I’ve finally started to have dreams about the river fry, probably prompted by the recent arrival of baby paraphenilia in the house and subsequent nursery –building activity. Mostly pleasant, thank Maude. I guess the “I’m going to be a shitty mother” paranoia hasn’t quite set in yet. First was a dream about getting the hang of breastfeeding, wherein I was a little concerned we weren’t doing it right, but the fry was fat, healthy and happy (with curly hair and freckles, for some reason. Weird since neither Curt nor I have freckles). With big sausage-like arms and legs. So in the end, a nice reassuring dream. Then last night it was about the actual childbirth. Wherein I proceeded to shock and amaze the hospital staff by shooting the little bugger out in less than an hour, with my mother and Curt playing catcher since the nurses & doctor were all on break or something, secure in their expectation that it would take me somewhere in the range of 12 – 48 hours to deliver.
Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that this is my body’s way of lulling me into a false sense of complacency with some kind of feel-good hormonal cocktail, kind of like that hallucinogenic flower pollin that got Spock all silly and happy on that episode of Star Trek??