At least I'm not nursing the cat...

Had my first birthing dream this pregnancy. I was at Dean and Elizabeth’s house and there was this pack of obnoxious blond six year olds that wouldn’t leave me alone. In the dream they were Dean and Elizabeth’s kids, but their actual children where nowhere to be found. I went into labor and we decided that instead of dealing with yet another nightmare drive with Mark trying not to hit any potholes or take any curves too fast that we’d just have the baby at their house. And after they ushered me into their newly remodeled bathroom, I was all over the idea. Now, they had managed to stick an entire roman bath like set-up into their cookie-cutter tract home. Don’t get me wrong, their house is awesome, but there is NO WAY you could fit a roman bath in there. It was like water birth heaven in there AND you should have seen the walls. Think 1950’s comic book pages painted six-foot high… big blonde bombshells in scenes of mock horror and Dick Tracy characters lurking under streetlights, all in bright vivid colors. Elizabeth had apparently painted these images on her walls in a weekend while corralling the half-dozen blonde terrors. She’s amazing.

So Mark calls the midwife and tells her she'll have to travel down there for the birth and she's cool with it, but wants to know if I have all my birth supplies. In classic GingerLane fashion, I've purchased them and left them all in the car, so low-and-behold Mark just runs out to the car to get them. The dream didn't continue through the actual birth, but it was cool none-the-less (except for the obnoxious blond freaks). It felt like a "problem-solution" dream where no matter what was thrown at us, we just dealt with it. Very nice.

With my pregnancy for Lily I just kept dreaming about nursing the cat. Trust me, this was way better.