The dreams haunt you.

One of the awful things about losing Maddox, other than the obvious, is that I have terrible, haunting dreams now. For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed every night, in color, and often my dreams are bizarre. Add grief to that and I have a lot of messed up dreams. They're dreams that stay with me all day, dreams I can't stop thinking about.

Last night, I dreamed that Andrew and I were pregnant with another boy. We were at the hospital because I was in labor, and when it was just the two of us in the room, it came time for the baby to come. I can't tell you how real the anticipation from my dream felt, how excited we were at another chance to be parents. With Andrew by my side, I gave birth to our second baby boy and to our horror, he wasn't breathing. I laid the baby down on the bed and tried to revive him while Andrew ran to find a doctor or nurse to help us. I begged and begged the baby to please, please wake up, to please breathe... please not again. Of course, my attempts were in vain.

These dreams are awful.

In the weeks immediately after losing Maddox, I dreamed about him several times. It's one of the reasons I avoided sleep at all costs. In all of my dreams, he was either stillborn or he was born alive but I knew he was going to die. In one dream, we were still at the hospital and a nurse was changing his clothes. When she handed him back to me, he was awake. I looked at the nurse and said to her, "Thank you. My baby was born dead, but now he is alive."

It's heartbreaking to live and relive our loss in my dreams. Frankly, it's exhausting.

Before bed last night, I prayed that God would give me a glimpse of how Maddox is doing, if that's even allowed. Instead, I dreamed I gave birth to another stillborn baby. I'm not upset with God though; I think it's Satan trying to kick me while I'm vulnerable and down. He's using my pain and my anxieties to hit me where it hurts.

But Satan can't win - not now, not ever.