One of those days

Today is the 2nd. It has been 3 months since Phineas passed. So far, his death date has been much easier to handle. His birth date is the one the strikes me down with the remembrance of the awful events that occurred. It is another Friday, three months since that Good Friday. His death was so peaceful and right. Not right, but right in the sense that it was the right decision.

I have been thinking so much lately about some of the things that I felt before he was born. About a prophetic dream I had 3 years before he was born. So many things that lead me to believe that he was never meant to stay.

When I was pregnant with Cordelia, we didn't find out her gender until later in the pregnancy and we both thought that she might be a boy. One night, after we had discussed some names for boys, with Phineas being the front-runner, I had a dream. I will not give all the details as it was a sacred experience for me, but it was profound and oh so correct.

I dreamt I was recovering in the hospital after having a baby boy. One that I hadn't properly seen. There was a flash and that was it. There were people around me and they were discussing his name. That Phineas was the right name, but that John should be his middle name. There was a distinct urging for us to "remember". Then, there was a flash of pain and blood on someone's hand.

And so it was. Despite all my best laid plans. I was going to have a home birth. And yet, he was born in a hospital. I saw merely a glimpse of him as he was wheeled out of the OR. I recovered in a dark room. Flashes of pain and shock. And his name was Phineas John.

Throughout my pregnancy with Phineas, I always had this strange feeling. Like I wasn't really pregnant, that I wouldn't really have a baby. I couldn't bring myself to talk about how he might fit into our daily lives. I couldn't think of it, I could not imagine it. I had a hard time preparing for him, buying clothes and other things felt really strange. Like it didn't matter whether I did it or not. I felt a lot of guilt and shame for these feelings. It wasn't that I didn't love him or want him. I did so very much, but I just couldn't see these things coming to be. I could not explain it. I thought maybe that I was just busy with the girls and overwhelmed by the move and Nate's long work days. I am sure it was not just that now.

We were struck by lightning. His life was so brief and the manner of his delivery was so rare, it feels undeniable that all these things all connect. It was going to happen. It was really meant to be.

After the dream, I thought that by "remember" we were meant to remember an ancestor named John and that Phineas would carry on that name. Now, I am sure that we were supposed to remember our Phineas, the sacred prophetic dream, his sacred name, his sacred life. He has changed us. Improved us. In some ways, I think he saved us. All of these experiences are sacred. I am so glad to have him. I hope that I will continue to remember him and honor his life.