On Giving Birth in the Dream World…

Birthing dreams…those are the worst.  I’ve had several over the last twenty years.   I probably average one or two a year now.  They were more frequent in our early years of trying to conceive, since obviously, my mind was often consumed by my desire to get pregnant.  Even though I’ve (mostly) moved past the  point that I desire to have a baby…although I’m doing nothing to prevent it; still allowing God room to do a miracle though I’m not expecting it…having birthing/baby dreams are the thing that rattles me the most at this point.

I cope pretty well now with the big stuff that used to send me into a deep depression.   I can go to baby showers, go to the hospital and see a friend’s newborn, and a year later go to that first milestone birthday party.  It’s the stuff that goes on inside my head, especially in my subconscious, that can send me into a tailspin more quickly than anything.  I think it’s because during the dream there is such a sense euphoria then upon awakening I’m back to harsh reality.  Needless to say, the ensuing day/days are never my best mood wise even when the dreams are on the bizarre side (sometimes I dream I give birth to a baby but once it’s put in my arms it’s one of my cats—I’m sure a psychologist could have a heyday interpreting that!)

So, I had one last night.  It went something like this:  I was taking a bath when quite suddenly I began having “pains”.  The next thing I knew I was giving birth right there in the bathtub.  It was sort of a “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” scenario.  I gave birth to tiny, premature, yet healthy baby girl.  Hubby would not let me get out of the tub, so I drew her to me and began to nurse her (I always nurse in my birthing dreams—another interesting aspect a shrink could have a field day with).  Hubby called the paramedics, and they came.  I was embarrassed that the paramedics were seeing me naked, but it was a passing embarrassment, because I was elated and surprised that I had a baby girl!  After that the dream kind of trailed off.

It wasn’t the last dream of the night, so upon awakening I didn’t really remember it until I started taking a shower…in the flowing water the memory of that dream hit me like a ton of bricks.  Then I was hit with a depression that almost rendered me unable to go to work, but I powered through, although  the memory of the dream has haunted me all day.

I really wish those dreams didn’t jar me as much as they do, but because I’m dealing with the subconscious I can’t fight off the tidal wave of feelings they dredge up like I can do with waking thought.

Here’s to hoping I have sweet and baby-less dreams tonight…