The Dreams That Taught Me to See Her
How learning to see differently changed everything.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve had vivid dreams. Sometimes they are nightmares, sometimes they feel like blessings—often depending on what’s happening in my life at the time.
After Paige was born, my dreams began to change. And I wanted to share how they’ve changed, in hopes that it might give you a different perspective on your own dreams.
When the Heart Hasn’t Caught Up Yet
I think our subconscious is often the last part of us to accept things.
We can logically understand a situation. We can even say the words out loud. But until our hearts and souls truly receive it, something inside us still wrestles… still hopes… still resists.
The Dreams I Used to Have
When Paige was first born, I had dreams—real, vivid dreams—of Christmas mornings where she was running and playing with her cousins in Alabama.
I dreamed of her riding a bike.
I even dreamed of teaching her how to drive one day.
After her diagnosis, those dreams continued—but they became heavier.
I dreamed of her without a tracheostomy.
I dreamed of her eating normal foods.
I saw her running outside, sitting up in church like a “typical” little girl.
I heard her voice forming full sentences.
Those dreams were beautiful.
But they were also filled with longing.
The Dream That Changed Everything
Then one day, during her second year of life, something shifted.
I had a different kind of dream.
We were outside at a potluck. Paige walked up to me wearing her foot braces, moving a little crooked with her gait trainer, a helmet on her head—and she was having the best time.
She was laughing.
She was engaged.
She was full of joy.
And to me… that dream was amazing.
It was a gift.
It was exactly what I needed.
Dreams That Feel Real
A few months ago, I dreamed she said “Jesus” during a prayer.
She was using her speaking valve, and it sounded just like her voice does now.
Another day, I dreamed she was in physical therapy. She pushed herself up onto her feet, holding my hand.
She took two small steps…
then stumbled and fell.
And I woke up smiling.
That was an amazing dream.
“I Love You”
One night, I dreamed I was tucking her in.
I placed her pulse oximeter.
I connected her feeding tube for her midnight meds.
I said, “I love you.”
As I turned to walk away, in her small voice—with just her HME on—I heard something that sounded like:
“I love you.”
What These Dreams Taught Me
Over the last couple of years, I’ve tried to put this feeling into words.
It’s the feeling of my subconscious finally accepting my daughter’s condition.
Accepting her path.
Seeing her progress.
And learning to dream in a new way.
Not in giant leaps…
but in small, meaningful steps.
Why the Small Things Matter
These dreams feel different.
They feel grounded.
Real.
Possible.
They remind me of God’s power and grace—not just in life-changing miracles, but in the quiet, steady work of small things.
Instead of dreaming only of what may never happen, He’s begun showing me what could happen.
And why the small things matter so much:
- Putting her in the stander every day
- Showing up to therapy
- Praying with her—even when she can’t yet say “Amen”
Because those small steps… are building something.
The Freedom of Acceptance
Acceptance is a kind of freedom.
It’s the freedom to rejoice in every step your child takes—no matter how small.
It’s the freedom to have a dream where your child is disabled… and wake up smiling instead of crying.
It’s the freedom to see joy where you once only saw loss.
Final Thoughts
And that, my friends, is the gift.
That is the work of our Lord Most High.
