Last night, I dreamed of Cora. I’ve never met her or her mom, but I can’t forget her either. It’s important to me to remember this baby, for no one who is remebered is truly lost.
In my dream, I was somehow back in time to December 1st & I was at Cora’s hospital. You know how dreams are. I wanted to find her, & there she was sharing a big bed with lots of other babies. I recognized her by her glow. So pink & perfect. I rushed to ask a nurse to give her a pulse ox test, & they did. I then went to tell Kristine that they had a chance to save Cora. And that was the dream. I woke up & for a second, I thought Cora was saved. & then I remembered she wasn’t. That I did not go back in time. And I cried.
A few minutes later, an earthquake hit the house, & I put my arms around my cosleeping baby waiting for more, but there was none. And it hit me again, how lucky I am to be able to put my arms around my baby.
There has to be some reason the world lost Cora. Why would this baby touch me more than others? I can’t comprehend the loss of Cora, of Layla Grace, of all the others. Why does it happen? Why doesn’t it stop?
I have a hard time grieving for a celebrity like Peter Graves or Corey Haim. One lived a long life, one squandered his short one. They left moms and children behind, but they had a chance to fly, & I want Cora to have had that chance too.
Fly, little Cora. You are not forgotten.