Last night at 4 am I woke up crying. Crying. And though I knew it was a dream, it still really hurt. And my crying woke Travis up. Baby must've been kicking me, but I don't remember him moving much, I just remember my dream, vividly.
Poor Travis must've been so confused, I just started whimpering.
In my dream, my Sister Robin and I and a few others were playing some strange form of freeze tag. She was it, and I was the closest to her. I was pregnant in my dream, and we was out to tag me. I was getting away, and she didn't like that, I had to freeze-and she got just close enough to poke me hard, a long pointy finger jab in my side, between my ribs and my baby bump. It hurt SO bad, and she kept digging in. I started whimpering-hurt that she would hurt me, and scared that my baby was hurting, and in some genuine serious pain. So, I started whimpering out of pain and betrayal, and then I realized I was awake and whimpering in real life. And though the pain was subsiding with reality getting less and less fuzzy, I couldn't stop. My whimpers turned to soft sobs, and that's when Travis woke up and asked what was wrong. Still feeling sensitive from the "jab" that I now understood must have been the baby, but hurt from the dream, I just softly sobbed out my sad story, of "Robin...dream...tag...poked me" and cried harder. "It really hurts"
Bewildered, he put it together and laughed, and assured me "Do you know who was poking you?" ....**more sobbing**...."Charley"....
and he chuckled and I tried to laugh/cry and calm down as a wave of re-flux made me sit up. Travis gently rubbed my back and I readjusted some pillows. I laid back down to try and sleep.
****Several hours later****
"Hello????....We're here!"
uhhhh....
I hear the shower running and barely start to realize that Stefani and Ashton are here.
Travis in the shower
I overslept.
She has to get to work
its 8:30!
So I shout back, "Hi! Just a minute" and search for my robe.
Stumbling out of my room unable to open my eyes all the way I apologize and excuse my grogginess with my 4am adventure. She laughs and excuses herself, I wobble back to my room to find some clothes, Travis is done with his shower-time to snarf down some cereal and drive him up to campus for his work day.
On the bright side, I realized at 4 am that Charley is indeed what I want to name my baby. We've been planning it all along, however, I often find myself unable to call him Charley. I've resorted mostly to calling him baby. "When baby comes" "Baby will just sleep in our room in the beginning anyways" "Kendra painted baby's room" "Baby is awake" "Baby is dancing" "Baby is kicking"
In all these instances, I could totally have used the decided name, it just, seemed weird to say it. But, at 4 am, in my sleepy whimpering stupor, in reply to the question "Do you know who really poked you" He was Charley. And it felt right. I don't know why the name business has seemed like such an overwhelming task, but-now I feel secure about it. I Have a son, and his name is Charley. No matter what happens, he is mine, and I know who he is.
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