It was the FIRST full day home with my new baby boy. I sat cross legged on the couch in front of the TV not really watching a program on fashion that I was too post-term to even consider.

I glanced down at his wrinkly nose and round face. He was asleep, again. For the next few hours I could do whatever I wanted or needed to do around the house. But I was exhausted. I had been up four times during the night for feedings and it felt like each time had gotten harder and harder to fall back asleep. I needed a nap and it was only the middle of the morning!

I wanted to tell him off for keeping me up, yet he was so darn cute, and innocent. I looked at his tiny features, his beauty. I could picture him growing and becoming someone important.

Suddenly the scene, the very show on TV, the couch, my position, the baby cradled in my arms in a blanket, was all familiar. I had dreamt this before! His face, his smirk as he passed gas, all of it! My clothes, the angle of the sun, every detail was exactly as I had dreamed.