I have had 2 dreams about Trek since Vesper was born. I have only had 9 dreams before those in the 2 years since he died, so that’s a lot for me. They were so simple. The first was 2 weeks after her birth. I was holding him, and he was as he was, towards the end of his life-adorable, small, and big blue eyes. I could tell he needed some pain medicine, so I asked Jarrett to bring me some morphine, and that was it. It was serene and he was in my arms, a perfect moment. The other was 2 nights ago. Vesper was alive in it, but I did not see her, I just knew she was there because I knew the milk in my breasts was hers. Someone else had Trek and I ran over to them. I knew he was supposed to be gone, I was a little surprised to see him, but not really. I calmly took him, and shushed someone who was trying to tell me that he was not supposed to be there. I knew he just needed me to hold and feed him. In the dream I was relieved that I had already given birth to Vesper and that I had milk for him. I started to breastfeed him and soaked in his beautiful face and that was all. Perfect again.
His absence has been intensified since Vesper has been born. The 7 year gap between her and Conner seems huge.
there is literally a huge gap where Trek should be standing
In my head and heart I see him there, but knowing that most people around me don’t know or see him, kills me. Jarrett and I were talking about how it would be to add a 3 year old Trek to the family mix right now. I would be younger and lighter and free and so completely overwhelmed with joy. My nest would be full.
When Trek was taken from us at 14 months old, the natural cycle of parenthood just ended in a millisecond. There would be no potty training, or play doh, or funny dances, or cute phrases. It never came. It was cut off so painfully and sharply. It was so easy when Peyton and Conner transitioned from baby to toddler. My energy had to go up, as a toddler always demands. It was amazing fun, I built forts in the living room, we planted fairy gardens, I ran everywhere just so I could keep up with them. But it never came with Trek, that natural rise in energy. And no matter how I try to recreate it to keep our lives and energy the same for the boys, nothing will ever be that organic or pure as when your child is leading the way.
I would have played Play doh with you for hours Trek.
We are taught our whole lives that things will get better. I think its partly a human thing, and partly an American one. If you scrape your knee it will eventually heal, if your heart gets broken there will be another love, if the money is not there one month, you still magically live in the same house the next and have food on your table. It doesn’t always turn out perfect, but for the most part, it has always been true, things get better or work out.
That is why it is so conflicting and completely uncomprehensible when your child dies. Your brain and coping mechanisms, immediately go to the place where it will get better. It searches and searches, but it never finds the answer, because it won’t get better. They won’t come back, and you won’t ever feel whole again, you literally will never be whole again.
But part of me must believe it. I feel myself going towards a dark place, where I fully comprehend that I will never see Trek’s hair grow long enough to grow curls, never watch him throw a ball, say a word, write his letters, feel him hug me, run, make a friend, walk down the aisle, conquer a fear, hold his own child, meet his wife, me hold his child. I comprehend pieces of it, I have dark moments full of tears and longing and claustrophobia because I want it to happen sooooooooooooo bad, but it just won’t. I want to scream and do something, anything, to get him back.
Maybe I know it won’t help, that I can’t do anything, or maybe some part thinks it can be fixed. I would not be surprised if someone knocked on my door right now and handed him to me. I think it would be like my dream and I would just hold him and love him and feed him and be his mommy again. I think I would think, “see Chelsea, it does get better, it always does”.
I remember when my milk dried up a few weeks after Trek died, I was so worried. What if it was a mistake, what if he still needed that milk, what if he came back and it was gone. Maybe that is why I am having more dreams of my baby. I feel like I can truly take care of him again since I have milk.