There was a hard, dirt path from the Creche to the little building I was staying in. As I walked towards the door I could feel the heat on my face, see the sun and knew that I would be sweating through my shirt by mid day. I didn’t care though because a smiley faced toddler was running up the path screaming manman (mother in Creole) dressed in a beige t-shirt and crocs on her tiny feet.
She wrapped her arms around me and I could smell baby powder and sweat. I was on my knees, tears springing to my eyes – this was my daughter.
My alarm went off and I woke up in my queen sized bed, light streaming through my window, Simba snuggled in my knee nook snoring softly.
It’s not a bad way to wake up-but that dream was so real I couldn’t help but cry wanting those chubby little arms to still be around my neck.
I am a short way in to a long waiting game for a referral, knowing that this will not be the first of many dreams to follow. Will I have a daughter or a son? I don’t know and I don’t care.
Thank God for dreams