Okay, so last night I had a dream about my baby girl.
I was sleeping pretty hard, as I often do lately because I am just SO. DAMN. TIRED. I wake up every few hours, but in between those few hours? I sleep so hard.
Anyway, so Ed came to bed and woke me up.
And trying to go back to sleep was nothing short of impossible.
(Oh, and when my alarm went off this morning? Layliana started jumping around. NO! It is NOT time to get up yet. That's just the first alarm. Oh well, I get her learned one day)
Anyway, so I was having a dream about her being born. And I pushed her out, and everything was just so hunky-dory. Seeing her face was magical. Holding her was everything I could have imagined and more.
And then we went home, kind of immediately. I remember thinking in my dream, Hmm, that's weird. They're sending us home kind of early. Must be because it was a vaginal birth.
And Layliana was just soo... Well, the way I described it in my dream was that she was a 'little spitfire'. So ... what's the word? Rebellious. Yes. That's the word.
I remember distinctly blaming her father for that.
But she was beautiful. A beautiful, little, perfect angel.
And then she got smaller. It was weird.
In the beginning of the dream, I was taking her around to see everyone (Even her father, because for whatever reason, he wasn't there to see her be born. More on that later.) Anyway, I was taking her around to see everyone in a regular car seat.
But by the end of the dream? She was in this small, porcelain, heart-shaped box. She was TINY.
I would open up the little jewelry box, stuffed with gift stuffing paper, and her laying on top of all of it.
Ugh. That's actually kind of terrible, and I hated the dream.
Except when I held her, when I looked at her.
It just made it so apparent how much I am going to love her.
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