It was the day of or the day after I gave birth to him. I had fell asleep after crying. I had been thinking since he was born still: "I am so, so, so sorry you didn't get to live, Isaac. I wanted you so much. I love you, son."
In the dream, I felt arms around me and found myself embraced in Isaac's arms. He wasn't a tiny, underdeveloped baby. He was a full grown man, and there was strength in his arms. I was surprised because he was taller than me. He hugged me, and I put my head into his neck and cried. He said "It's OK, Mom. It's OK. I know. I KNOW. We will be together soon." I told him "I love you, son. It will seem like such a short time for you, but such a long one for me." Then, he was gone.
I have no explanation for why I would imagine my son, who was so very tiny and helpless as a strong and full grown man. I do not know if that was God giving me a moment with my child or an image to comfort me. Isaac seemed so real. His solid, strong arms, the warmth of his body, the soft, sincere words he spoke, the sense of loss when he left...all seemed so very real.