Fourteen years ago today, my dreams died.
This morning, I woke up with my hand across the scar that runs across my abdomen and realized what day it was. I haven’t thought about this day for years. Because it’s a day I’d just as soon forget.
It was the day I thought my dreams died.
Fourteen years ago today, I was in a hospital room being told I couldn’t have any more children. Hopes and dreams are so fragile, yet we all cling to them. My husband and I dreamt of having a big family. We had a happy marriage, a beautiful home, a son who was almost two and a daughter who was three. We could picture our kids, all close in age, coming home for the holidays with all their kids someday.
We’d just lost a baby. I was about four months pregnant. We got through that by telling ourselves that it’s okay, we can try again. But first, I had to have a D&C. Suffice to say, it didn’t go well. My uterine artery was ruptured, as well as my uterus and bladder. I lost over a third of my blood, and I’m lucky to be here today.
For a long time after that I forgot how to dream, or maybe I was afraid to dream. My basketball coach used to have a saying posted in our locker room that said, If you can dream it, you can do it. For awhile, I was afraid if I dreamed about it, the opposite might happen, so I stopped dreaming.
I’ve fully recovered. Physically and mentally. I have lots of new dreams, and I’m not afraid to dream anymore. In fact, if anything, I think maybe my dreams have become even bigger. The older I get, the more confident I have become. Watching my kids grow, seeing their wonder in the world, their confidence, their dreams, gave me hope. For years now, most of my hopes and dreams have been wrapped around my family.
A few years ago, I wrote a book. Well, parts of a book. I dreamed of having it published. Of people reading it. Of giving a portion of the sales to charity. My family has made sure that I never lost sight of this dream. They pushed me to finish it, to publish it. And I did. And my mom and a couple of my friends bought copies. I sold three books that first month.
A few months ago, I excitedly told my family I had somehow sold 27 books that month. I told them that I now dreamed of selling 1,000 books in one month. It seemed so pie in the sky that we all laughed and laughed.
It seems very fitting to me that day came today.