Lately I’ve been dreaming I’m pregnant. When I’m asleep, that is. During the day I’m so very not-pregnant that no one even bothers anymore to say oooh, maybe you’re pregnant when I complain of nausea or tiredness. This could be because I’ve made it so abundantly clear to anyone who’ll listen that I’m Not Ready or perhaps it’s just that everyone knows I go to bed exhausted at about 8:30 these days and nobody believes in immaculate conceptions anymore. Where’s the faith, people?
I think there are three types of pregnant dreams. The first are just plain bizarre (the baby is a green martian with George Clooney’s face/the person having the dream is a man, or Paris Hilton.) Others are wishful thinking (the woman wakes feeling warm… then empty). And the third kind: nightmares (not really any need for explanation here, is there?)
I think my dreams have been a heady cocktail of the latter two types. Being pregnant with Little Bean was such a magical experience. If I conveniently forget the weeks spent more attached to a bucket than any other person or object, that is. But there really is something awesome about literally being pregnant with expectation. Reading all the books and talking quietly into the night about how little foetus is now the size of a walnut or a grapefruit. Musing over names and equipment and imagining future family holidays (back before I learned that Family Holiday is an oxymoron). Feeling utterly connected.
Honestly I think that the Bean’s decision to wean has increased my nostalgia for those womb days. I guess breastfeeding is a kind of dynamic umbilicus and feeling the loss of it can lead to yearnings. And tantrums muffled by a few litres of amniotic fluid might be a little quieter too. Is that why mothers of toddlers still bravely get themselves knocked up again? So they can at least have someone quiet in their family, if only for a few months?
Anyway, these dreams are simply that. Given that I still haven’t recovered from the emotional shock of the early weeks with The Bean, having two children is pretty much my nightmare scenario right now. And the possibility of having twins keeps me awake at night (counting days to see if a period is late takes time, you know.)
Deep down I know that the longing will win out over the fear sooner or later. Part of me can’t wait. Right now though, the other part of me is going to take advantage of nap time and make a cup of tea because we all know that if I have another kid that won’t be happening. Except in my dreams.