I had a long, unsettling dream this morning.
In the first part, I was pregnant. My mother and some of my work friends were planning a baby shower. They were telling my husband that he couldn’t come. To his credit, my love was having none of it. He was full on arguing with the ladies about his right to be there. It was sweet.
Later, my husband and I were getting an ultrasound. The tech was moving the sensor around on my belly and I swear I could feel it. Cold gel and everything. Eventually, the tech pointed to a screen and showed us not one, but two babies. As he offered us congratulations, I felt a panic attack beginning to build up in my chest. I was unprepared for two babies.
I’ve talked about my reluctance to get pregnant again in an earlier post. It isn’t something I really want. However, my husband doesn’t have any children and I feel a little guilty about being so unwilling.
There was a long period that we couldn’t even discuss it. My first pregnancy was emotionally traumatic and I’m still trying to heal from it. I’ve made large strides but I’m still too afraid to let it happen again. I keep telling myself that it would be okay one day, but I’m not getting any younger. My window is slowly closing.
I won’t dwell on it, but I needed to get my thoughts out.