I was never the type of person who imagined my future in detail. I knew at some point that I would like to be a mother, but I hadn't given it much thought before I first found out about our daughter.
It was May of 2016 and my Papa had just passed away. I made an appointment to see a medium the day before his funeral, hoping I could say goodbye to him through her since he was unable to communicate in the hospital before he passed.
The night before my scheduled appointment I had the most vivid dream of a beautiful field full of wild flowers. The flowers were red, orange, and yellow and grew tall enough to swallow the lower half of my body. I was in my own body, draped in a beautiful white silk and cotton gown with lace trim. Laughter poured out of me as I ran towards the open clearing ahead of the wild flowers. I glanced up and saw a little girl running towards me with a hand full of red flowers. Her dress matched mine, and hung freely from her body. She had my eyes and Mike's smile. Darker blonde hair was piled on the top of her head in a mess of a bun. Laughter erupted from her tiny body, producing the cutest sound I had ever heard.
I awoke the next day and held on closely to that dream. I had no idea who that tiny girl was, but her spirit seemed familiar to me somehow.
A few hours later I sat in front the medium waiting to speak to my Papa. She told me things no one would know that reassured me she could really communicate with him. (I can dig more into this part of the reading in another post) Then she told me about the little girl.
"Do you want children?" She asked
"One day" I replied (feeling sort of unsure of the answer if I'm being totally honest)
"I see a little girl hovering around, waiting for you to be ready. You've seen her too haven't you? She's showing me a hand full of red flowers"
My heart stopped for a moment. I pictured her again in my head, reaching her tiny hand towards me with a fist full of red flowers. Their stems hung all the way down to her tiny knees as she laughed while she ran towards me.
Fast forward to June 6th of 2019, the day I found out I was pregnant. June 6th is a D-Day, a fact that had been engraved in my head since a very young age. My Papa would ask me almost every year "Do you know what today is?" "D-Day" I would reply. As soon as I saw that second pink line, I laughed out loud. "D-Day" I repeated out loud before the panic of pregnancy set in.
I had always imagined that I would have a boy first. ALL my sisters have boys, and my trusty chinese birth chart (which was right for 99% of my family) showed I would have a boy. (For evidence hover to age 29, MAY).
Mike and I had the most difficult time agreeing on names for ANY gender, but I heavily focused on boy names since I was convinced that is what I was having. One morning Mike rolled over and said "if it's a girl, then we will name her Peyton". Perfect I thought to myself. I was a DIE HARD one tree hill fan, so Peyton had been on my list for a girl's name for quite some time.
Then the blood test results came back. It was a Friday evening and I was getting my hair done. Luckily I had my phone on me.
"The blood tests all look great. Would you like to know the gender?" She asked
It was 5PM on a Friday. I knew if I said no I would have to wait until Monday to find them out. Despite Mike not being with me, I answered "yes"
"Its a girl" She said
My heart raced and tears filled my eyes. I pictured her again, running towards me in her white dress holding onto those red flowers.
Her middle name came from my sister Rachel, who accompanied me to my 10 week ultrasound that would check the baby for down syndrome. We watched as the sweet tiny girl inside of me kicked her legs. At that time I had no idea it was a girl, so once I found out I knew her middle name would have to be Rae.
Then she came early on Valentine's Day, my grandmother's birthday. I laughed in the shower that morning at the irony that both dates which started and ended my pregnancy were attached to my sweet Papa. As I held our sweet girl in my arms the first time I glanced towards the ceiling and whispered "thank you". Maybe he could me, and maybe not.
I painted the painting at the top of this post for her nursery as a reminder of the time she was once a dream running towards me. A period in time which I suffered a great loss, but was given a reminder that life is still beautiful.
Now my almost 5 month old is laying beside me in her boppy, playing with a toy and giggling at herself. Sometimes I still see her then look up to the sky and say "thank you", wondering if my Papa is smiling down on us like I smile up at him.
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