The first time I heard it was when Rock was away at work. It was an unbelievable scream full of fear. It was 4am. I was in a deep sleep when the screams and cries vaulted me from bed. Pebs was in his crib across the room from me. I ran to him. He was laying in his crib. His arms and legs spread out as if he was falling. His eyes were all the way opened, looking up to the ceiling but in a blank stare. I picked him up, but instead of him naturally embracing my hold, his arms and legs stayed opened as if he was falling. I tried to hug him, but his body was stiff. I began to rock him and tried to calm him down. He kept screaming. He kept crying. I felt helpless. I was lovingly trying my best to comfort him, to let him know mama was there, but his night terror wasn’t stopping. It lasted for maybe a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. When he had finished screaming, his crying was mixed with heavy breathing, some gasps as if the fear was still lingering in his thoughts. He was crying and gasping as I held him, rocked him, and comforted him. I squeezed his little toddler body until his breathing slowed down and became somewhat normal. I pulled him away and looked at his swollen eyes from all the crying. I asked him if he was okay, but he just fell back into my arms ready to fall back asleep. How I wish he could’ve talked to me about his nightmare.

The night terrors started after he turned one. They weren’t very often but usually when Rock wasn’t home. It was frightening to see my baby boy in such fear. I tried to explain how scary it was to Rock, but he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t calm him down. One day, he was finally home when it happened. He was able to see the fear, the true terror in Peb’s eyes. I could see how it affected him seeing his son and being so helpless. He understood what I had been going through. He realized there was nothing at that moment that we could do to help Pebs. I saw the fear in Rock’s eyes when he saw Pebs, his little arms spread out, his back arched, his eyes looking straight up with nothing but straight fear in his eyes, his screams full of dread.

These episodes didn’t just happen in the middle of the night. There were a few times we were in the car and ‘he’d wake up in his car seat in complete horror. I would have to sing, speak to him calmly, until he was out of the nightmare he was experiencing. He would always need a few seconds to catch his breath, calm down, and then, he’d fall back asleep. I discussed it with his pediatrician, but she assured us that they were just night terrors and he’d “grow” out of them. I’m sure you know by now, that’s not what I believed, and he didn’t “grow” out of the nightmares.

Looking back at these episodes, it’s hard not to think about how much he knew or felt. Was this a revelation of what was to come? I know it sounds silly or torturous in a way, but I also had a dream of Pebs passing away in my arms the Friday before the tragedy so it’s not unbelievable to think this could be a possibility. It is hard to imagine this happening to a baby, toddler per say, but if you had experienced just a tad bit of what I went through, this wouldn’t be hard to believe. I know God was with my Pebs when he left this Earth and went to Heaven. I imagine him being welcomed by so many loved ones, Angels, and Jesus! I can imagine them embracing him, loving on him, and all of it making sense all in one touch. But for my human mind and heart, it’s hard to understand the why behind it all. Why did my Pebs have to hurt, to fear? Why did he have to experience that type of nightmare? Did he dream of his fate before it happened? Did he know what was going to happen? So many questions unanswered, and it could drive me insane if I constantly dwell on them because the answers I’m seeking can’t be answered here on Earth.

I know what I experienced with my son. As a mom, we know our kids better than they know themselves. I know Pebs wasn’t just having a nightmare. I saw the terror in his eyes, the fear in his screams, the agony of trying to breathe when it had finally passed. I know what I saw and what he felt. It was real. It was scary. Do I know exactly what it was? Will I ever be able to prove it? Only God and Pebs know, and I’m sure when I see them in Heaven, it will all make sense. I won’t even have to ask. It will all be known. Writing about this was hard. It was another reality that tears me apart. It was part of our nightmare. I write about it for others. I write for Pebs. I write his story so that I never forget. I write because that’s what I feel led to do. I pray that it reaches those that it’s meant to reach.

“As for inflicting our sorrow on other people, one does not want to go around blathering and crying all the time. But perhaps it is our gift to others to trust them enough to share our feelings with them. It may help them deal with some of their own.”

Martha W. Hickman

“I am not mad; I would to heaven, I were, For then, ’tis like I should forget myself. O, If I could, what grief should I forget!”

William Shakespeare

Grief has indeed pushed men and women over the edge into insanity. Sometimes we may have felt this way ourselves.

Healing After Loss, Martha W. Hickman