Sadie

I had the most extraordinary dream last night.

Truth be told, I’m not sleeping well, not waking rested, even though I am unconscious for at least 8, sometimes 10, hours. I awake feeling very heavy in my body and feeling like I cannot physically drag myself out of bed. I’ve also gained 10 pounds inexplicably.

I know now that my body is telling me my thyroid is off again.

The energy it requires to call my NP and schedule the labs is almost insurmountable. I called my Louisiana sister instead. She’d been texting me from her doctor appointment, so I just hit that little phone button next to her name. Somehow that was easier than calling my NP, even though I have her number memorized.

We chatted briefly. I confessed my sin to her of neglecting to call my NP because she has a similar health issue and knows how it feels to be trapped under something heavy. And then she very abruptly had to go. They were calling her back.

So I called me NP.

Closed for lunch. Dammit. See?!

There was a heavy sense of urgency. That tightening of the jaw where I also thrust the tip of my tongue high and hard into the roof of my mouth but seldom realize I am doing it. A cinder block sits on my shoulders and chest. Breathing is difficult but I am forcing myself to take regular, purposeful, noisy breaths.

I can feel tremendous pressure between my legs. Something is presenting, and in quite a hurry.

I make my way around the corner struggling to walk faster and yet trying to prevent the mass between my legs from falling out.

I see Chris and verbally sigh a relief. “Oh, God, Chris. I’ve got to get into a bed. This baby is here!”

Chris grabs an instrument, kneels down before me, and peers under my dress to see all but the baby’s head protruding from my body.

In a flash, I am reclining on a hospital bed and being handed my baby. “Sadie,” I say aloud, and she clamps perfectly onto my left nipple, and the milk flows heavily into both my breasts. She feeds fully and deeply, and I can feel the difference from when Jackson fed. And my heart aches from the damned memory of our struggle.

She is perfect. Beautiful. Tiny. Pink. Healthy. She is a dream.