
I open my eyes slightly while I stretch…still warmly buried under the covers. It’s dark…but I hear birds chirping outside so I know it’s morning. I check the clock. 6:15am. In about 15 short minutes, my youngest will climb out of his bed, go to the bathroom, then go back to his room to check his clock. He will see that it’s not 7 yet and get back in his bed. He knows he’s not allowed to get up until 7. So, he lays in his bed…singing, snapping, clapping, playing. One would think at 6:30 in the morning I would be annoyed. But I’m not. I lay there and listen to him…and I smile.

In the early stages of my last trimester I had a dream that my son was born with a birthmark on his face. It was a coin-sized, purplish mark on his cheek. I remember feeling complete and utter anguish for my son during this very vivid dream.




