Dreams of a Tiny Casket

When I was pregnant with Charlie, I dreamed of a tiny casket. I dreamed about  weeping over a flower-covered, mahogany casket that was the size of a baby.

I have nightmares even ten years later about foreseeing the death of my son.

I must’ve been about 7 months pregnant when it happened the first time. I remember waking up in a cold sweat with a wet face, probably from crying in my sleep. At the time, I didn’t think much about it. And I didn’t tell a soul about it.

And then I dreamed it again. Several more times.

When we were taken into the “oh sh*t room” at the hospital, 4 days before our son was even due to be born, to be told that he would die, I remember thinking to myself, “I saw this coming.”

I’m haunted by the images to this day. The images of waking up, having dreamed of the unthinkable, and then actually being in a room in a funeral home  choosing a casket for my infant knowing that I had already seen this, cling to my brain like an old phone number. Try as I might, the images won’t go away.

Because of what Charlie died from, late onset Group B Strep, there is always a very small hint of guilt present in my mind. I have chosen to believe, because we will never know, that he didn’t contract it from me since I tested negative for GBS. Add to that the guilt of thinking that I foresaw this and that equals a good number of restless nights.

I know that I didn’t cause it, but what if there was something I could have done differently? What if I had taken him to the doctor earlier? What if I had told somebody, ANYbody, what I had dreamed? Would it have changed anything?

No, because it was my hand that was dealt.

But that’s one dream that I sure would love to forget.

Did you dream of your child’s future? Or did you have strange, foreboding dreams like I did?