Twisted Pregnancy Dream

I dreamt last night that I miscarried. This wasn’t the first miscarriage dream I’ve had since getting pregnant. That’s part of why I wrote these entries, to try and get the thoughts out of my head. And I it worked, but last night I had one of those dreams that lasts all night, no matter how many times you wake up and go back to sleep. If it hadn’t been so ludicrous, it would have been scary.

First, my uterus fell out. I think this came from two things: knowing I need to do my keigles (yes, it’s harder being a woman than you can even imagine), and watching David Blaine rip his heart out last night, courtesy of Celebrity Smack.

Anyway, my uterus fell out, and I picked it up, and found this really teeny tiny baby inside, looking at me with wide eyes and saying goo-goo ga-ga. My mom appeared with a neighbor, who smiled and said, “Congratulations!” And I said, “But I’m only 14 weeks!” She filled a big glass with water, put the uterus and baby in it, and smiled again.

Then I went to the doctor, but all the facilities were outside, and I kept saying, “My uterus fell out, I need help.” The remainder of the dream, I followed around this doctor who was a combination of Richard Branson and Bozo the clown. At one point, I was peeing in a trash bag held by a handsome young medical assistant in the middle of a crowded courtyard. He kept trying to walk away before I was done. Typical man!

When it came time for surgery to put my uterus back, the surgeon said, “OK where is it?” I mentioned the glass of water and he just shook his head. In the dream I started crying, then I woke to John yelling “Mommy,” at the top of his lungs. I felt nauseas.

I don’t like mornings, or nausea. But this morning? I welcomed both. Tonight? Me and that medical assistant will change things around a little bit.