Sweet Dreams, Sweet Child

I dreamed of my daughter last night. It wasn't the first dream I've had of her, and I hope it won't be the last, but this one stuck out as different to me. The first felt like an introduction, and in a sense, it was. I was only a few weeks into my paper chase and was living, breathing, speaking adoption. Normally when I dream, the people are faceless. I know my friends and family not by their face, but how I feel about them and the aura (for lack of a better word) that they leave behind. The first dream showed a sweet round-faced toddler with a bobbed chin-length hair cut. She was looking back at me from the sandbox, reassured that I was there watching her. I felt like I was seeing her through a camera lens. Last night I had two separate dreams of MayLing. In the first she is in grade school, no older than seven or eight years old. She is talking to me excitedly about her friends and her day at school. I remember focusing on her lips and thinking that they looked similar to mine and thinking with pride "this is my daughter!" The second dream she is older, probably in her twenties and an independent adult. Instead of her talking to me, we are sitting next to each other talking as equals much the way my mother and I interact when we are together. In a sense it felt as if my life had flashed before my eyes and I had a sense of what my future would be like. Even with the frustrations of my day, I kept coming back to the face of my daughter, a daughter that likely isn't even born yet. In these moments I feel so close to her and I pray that she is healthy and safe and that her birth mother is healthy and safe.
This morning when I read the local paper, I saw that the Associated Press had published the story of the new guidelines and the restrictions put forth by the CCAA that will soon go into affect. My heart breaks that MayLing may be my only child, but I am also assured that some day she will come home and we will be family. Until then, I will just have to dream about her.