I had a strange dream a few nights ago.  I dreamed that I was with a bunch of girls, getting ready to go to the Senior Prom.  I couldn't decide on which gown to wear.  Because it was so close to Christmas time, my wonderful friend, Michele suggested that I wear the red, satin gown.
     All of a sudden, I yelled "Help me, I think that I am in labor!"  I felt something odd and reached down to discover, that I was crowning.  I looked down and saw a little head with dark black hair.  I started to push the baby out.  The cramps felt strong, but before I knew it, the baby completely emerged.  She had lots of black hair and an olive complexion.  She looked like a beautiful,  Italian baby.
     I told my friend, Michele, that I was not going to the Prom, after all.  It didn't bother me, though.  I was overwhelmed with joy, at this beautiful gift, of a baby girl.   And then, I woke up.
    What is interesting about this dream, is that I had it in the early morning hours of August 14.
     In reality, my one and only baby, that I miscarried...murdered by my Italian lover, during a brutal beating... was due to be born on August 13, 1992.  This child would be 22 years old now.
    I don't think that I will ever be over the loss of my baby.  I can't forget the terrifying, painful beating, that Pietro gave me, that ended  it's fetal life.   I can't get over the horror of  my miscarriage.  I can't get over the anger that Pietro killed my  baby.   And I was never able to conceive again.
     My heart will always ache for you, my little baby.