Warnings

I am 29 years old and I am going gray.  Really, I have more than my fair share of gray hairs already.  I'd like to blame it on genetics - my great-grandmother had gone completely white well before she hit 29.  But I don't think genetics is the answer in this case.  No, I blame my five year old.

Camden is a wild man.  He is also sweet and loving and fun.

I believe that the Lord gives us prompting - even warnings - through the Spirit.  And I believe He's been giving me some pretty strong warnings about this boy for quite some time.  As in, since he was a newborn.  I've known since Camden was born that, despite the fact that he was my quiet, calm, easy baby (the complete opposite of his brother), I was going to have to be very careful and protective of him.

See, I have nightmares.  Not the kind of nightmares you have after watching a scary movie (I don't do that) or telling ghost stories by the campfire (I'd rather sing silly songs).  No, I have very powerful nightmares, and they are always about Camden.

When he was tiny I used to have dreams of him disappearing from his crib.  I'd go to check on him in the middle of the night and instead of my sweet baby I would be greeted by a scary adult hand coming out of the crib to grab at me.  Or I would hear him crying and I would get up to go take care of him.  Only he wouldn't be in his crib, the cries would be coming from the basement.  And I would know, as I got to the top of the stairs, that somebody had him down there, and I was alone, and if I went down they would hurt me and then I wouldn't be able to save my baby.  Or even let anyone know he was in danger.  I spent many sleepless nights, even after he started sleeping through the night, just watching my baby sleep.  Because those dreams were so scary.

It's been a few years since I last dreamed about Camden being harmed.  But last night my Camden nightmares came back.  Last night, in my dream, I watched him fall two stories to the concrete floor below.  Thankfully, I woke up as I was running to where he would have landed, so at least I was spared the image of my little boy on the ground after that fall.  It was terrible enough as it was.

I can't help but wonder, what does this all mean?  Why do I dream such horrible things about my sweet little boy?  And it's not because I'm a crazy, paranoid parent (I hope!).  Have I ever dreamed that Jake was in danger?  No, not once.  But Camden, all the time.

I think I am being warned.  He is a special little boy.  He is smart and cute and has incredible energy and charisma.  I have no doubt that he is going to go very far in life.  But he is fearless.  He thinks the crime is worth the punishment.  He doesn't believe me when I tell him something is dangerous or will hurt.  He'd rather discover those things for himself.  And I have to watch him like a hawk.  Because he is a great kid and will be a great man.  As long as I can get him safely to adulthood.

Sometimes I worry that I won't be up to the task.  But as much as I hate having nightmares about my baby, I also have to give thanks for them.  As scary as it is to wake up convinced that my little boy just fell two stories, I am grateful that it didn't really happen.  And I am grateful for the warnings I receive, as his mother, to watch and care for this special little boy.  I know that because of these dreams I pay more attention and am more careful to watch and to teach him to watch for danger.

I just wish these warnings would be a little less stressful for me.  My hair can't take it.