Well, I believe it's finally happened. The complete nervous breakdown that's been looming is now pouncing upon me.
After a very sad afternoon, missing him so much I didn't know what to do, I decided to just go to bed. So, Bryan came home from work and I said my hellos and then quickly folowed it with goodnight. (Sometimes, there is nothing else you can do but simply go to bed). I woke up a few hours later in a cold sweat and immediately felt panicked. I had a horrible nightmare about Samuel.
I don't dream about him often. I wish I could have happy dreams about him in heaven, all perfect and wonderful, but I don't.
This dream was terrorizing.
In my dream, we had to go to the hospital to talk to the doctors about something. When the nurse came in the room, she was holding Samuel - all wrapped up in a blanket - and I immediately asked to hold him. She said, "I don't recommend that" and faced me. As she turned towards me, I suddenly started screaming loudly as I realized he was not the Samuel I remembered, but instead a very bad version of him. I screamed and screamed, "Why is he still here!? It's been almost a year! Why is he still here?" I turned to Bryan and begged, "If he's here than what do we have in his little box of ashes at home??"
Everyone just stood there while I screamed in horror.
Suddenly, we were back home and I was in our room. I waked past the chair next to our bed and looked down. The bad version of Samuel was there, wrapped up in a towel. I screamed again and ran down stairs.
All I can remember is horrible screams over and over again.
I can still feel them. Terrorizing.
I woke up and went down to Bryan, shaking and sobbing as I told him about it. I almost opened the seal on his little box of ashes just to make sure they were in there!
Apparently, my brain is trying to figure out where he is. I just keep thinking, "it's okay, he's happy and safe", over and over. But I can't shake this gross, dark feeling I've had since I woke up.
The trauma of his birth and death is starting to show. We're too close to the anniversary of the start of labor and the long, hard week of his birth. Then, it's his birthday. Then, it's the anniversary of his death. Then the anniverary of the day I held him. Then, his funeral.
Oh. my. goodness.
Heaven help me for the next month...