It was a very vivid snapshot of what my subconscious apparently thinks it would feel like to be pregnant for nine months condensed into one night. Let it be said that I am a) single, b) not even sexually active (partially by choice, mostly not), c) not even thinking about having kids.

Scene one: I find out I'm pregnant, sitting on my toilet and staring at the pregnancy test with a mixture of disbelief and joy and fear and excitement. I run out, scream at my Partner "I'm pregnant" and we cry. He kisses me.

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Scene two: I have a panic attack. I can't breathe for a long time. Partner finds me curled in the middle of the floor, sobbing about how I'm not going to be a good mom. He orders Chinese takeout, and puts on Edith Piaf, and plays with my hair until I calm down.

Scene three: We go shopping for baby stuff. I hold up a little onesie that is so cute, it makes me cry. Partner puts the onesie into our cart.

Scene four: We have a big fight about naming Baby. (I don't remember what names we're fighting about, but I do know that he will not be named Xander.)

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Scene five: Baby starts responding to us when we talk to him, moving more when we talk to him. We play a lot of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald and the like and dance around the apartment, Baby between us. I like to tell Baby stories. Partner listens too.

Scene six: My feet hurt. My back hurts. I'm bloated and gassy and feel like a whale. I complain about stretch marks. But Partner spends a lot of time rubbing my belly, and it doesn't make me feel fat or ugly.

Scene seven: Partner keeps saying "When Baby gets here, we'll do this" and "I can't wait to do that with Baby," and it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.

Scene eight: Partner wakes up, bleary-eyed, and walks in on me, covered in paint and having just finished panic-painting Baby's room. He hands me a coffee. I sit in my rocking chair, he sits in front of me with his back resting on my knees, and we say "we're ready."

Scene nine: I'm out shopping in NYC with a friend. I feel one contraction, but it's not really bad and I have so much I still need to do so I just pick up my pace. I'm paying at the counter when the contractions start to get really bad. My water breaks. My friend freaks the fuck out, rendering her useless. I apologize for the mess, get into a cab and direct them to the hospital. I'm admitted, she calls Partner, and then...we wait. I pace a lot, breathing hard through the pain (which doesn't feel so bad at first and I'm cocky about it until one brings me to my knees). Doctor checks if I'm dilated enough and I think surely because it's been hours but I'm not. I get a sinking feeling that I'm going to have a long long labor like my mother had with me. The contractions get worse. I grip Partner's arm and snarl for an epidural. Doctor says I'm ready. Partner and I share a look. I'm wheeled to the delivery room. He's holding my hand, our fingers laced together. My heart is racing at a million miles a second.

And then I woke up.

So. Um. What?

The thing is, I'm ambivalent at best about having kids. I'm sure it's great, and I really love hearing about all the new moms and their babies here on GT, but I'm not so sure it's really for me. As ambivalent about the whole thing as I am, I was actually a little sad that I woke up. Part of me really wanted to hold Baby! Is that normal? Why am I dreaming about being pregnant?

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Anyway, this dream has made me feel all the feels today, and I can't quite articulate what those feelings even are.