Well, happened again last night.
I was pregnant in my dreams. Only not by anyone I would consider remotely a good father or friend or decent human being.
Really, brain? You had to put the douchebag in there?
Asshole brain.
And it was yet another boy.
This has got to stop.
Oh... I so hate pregnancy dreams. I hated them when I was in the throes of IF hell, because they toyed with my hopes and dreams. And I hate them now that we're finished with our family building phase of life, for just that reason. We're done. We've takes measures to permanently prevent babies from being made. I end up waking from the dreams panicky (re:my health concerns while pregnant, the impact on our finances a third child would mean, our lack of space in the hobbit hole, etc) and anxious. Seriously, the last one was a few weeks ago and it took me two days and the arrival of AF to shake the feeling it left with me.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness that I'm not the only one. It's like I'm torn between wanting children and definitely not. I'd much rather regret not having a child than having one.
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