I guess I must have baby fever again. The last three nights I have dreamed that I was pregnant. The situations varied a little, but in all three I was nearing the end of my first trimester, just starting to show. And in all three I was thrilled to be pregnant again. In one case I was even thrilled to be pregnant with our fourth child; we already had a third, a daughter named Harmony.
I’m not sure what’s behind the dreams. Scooter is now the age PJ was when I learned I was pregnant with Scooter, so maybe that reminiscing is bringing on the dreams. But the truth is that I kind of wish I was pregnant now, or at least thinking about it. I know it would complicate things, and I would be sick of feeling gross very quickly. Oh, and M is still dead-set against another baby right now. Those are compelling reasons to remind myself the dreams are just that and squash the longings for another baby.
But I wouldn’t cry if I found out by some miracle I was pregnant again, or at least they would be tears of joy.