I have been having way more dreams about this baby than I ever did with Oliver. I usually don't pay much attention to dreams, and I don't really think they 'mean' anything, but they sure are interesting!
I blame the latest dream on Peggy Vincent's Baby Catcher, which is an awesome memoir by a California midwife, detailing many of the countless births she attended, both in hospitals and in homes. Oh, and in cars. I just finished it a couple days ago.
Last night I dreamed that Ian and I were at some big event in a hotel - maybe a wedding reception? I was tired and having contractions so I left to go up to our room. As I was waiting with a big crowd of people at the elevators, Baby was moving around a ton and I lifted up my shirt to watch. I could see the outline of a little foot pushing against my left hipbone, and the head on the right side of my belly. Apparently I thought I was in labor, and I laughed and said, "No, baby, this is the way out!" as I used my hands to flip him head down. Then, suddenly, the baby was born! I caught it, grabbed a robe laying on a nearby chair and wrapped the baby up and sat down. Someone left to find Ian (hmm, he wasn't there - AGAIN!) and our midwife, who also happened to be at the hotel. When they arrived I realized I hadn't looked to see if the baby was a boy or a girl - guess what, a boy!
Totally realistic, right?!
But man, if I did believe my dreams mean something more....what does it mean when Ian is NEVER there for the birth? Hmm...