knocked up.
I just had the most vivid dream ever in my life.
Simply, I dreamt that I got pregnant.
It was a drunken one-night stand with a guy I know in real life, though I refuse to say who because I know it'll be met with a lot of disdain and stupid jokes. He and I were fooling around, I remember him distinctly wearing a condom, but I guess it broke sometime during the act. You know how it goes.
Since he now lives out-of-state, he went back to his place of residence across the country and I went back to my life. A few weeks later, I begin feeling very sick and chalk it up to the stomach flu. My mother, however, is very suspicious and asks about what I've been up to. After days of vomiting, she thinks I may be pregnant. A home test will later prove this to be true.
Mom says, "Whatever you feel like doing -- keeping the baby, giving it up or having it . . . taken care of, I want you to think long and hard about that one -- I'll be right there with you."
I consider all my options and decide to keep my unborn child. Mom says that I should tell the guy I was with ASAP. I can't reach him on his phone and leave him a message telling him we have something urgent to discuss. He calls me back a day later and I explain to him the situation.
He says to give him a few days to come back to town and secure a job, he wants to be here with me. He even offers to rent an apartment for us to share and perhaps get married for the benefit of the baby. We tie the knot a few weeks later in a hasty ceremony at city hall.
Finally, the big day arrives and, for whatever reason (can't remember), he can't get to the hospital right away but eventually shows up in time for our daughter to be born. We name her Chloe, though she was born with a lot of respiratory problems.
We live happily together for a year before Chloe dies of said problems. I'm naturally traumatized, but not remorseful I kept her, even if she was sick. Because I loved her so much when she was alive, she definitely wasn't lacking anything. And I remember being with her when she passed, so I was blessed to be with my baby in her final moments; that she slipped away knowing how adored she was.
A year or so after her death, my husband suggests we try for "another miracle". Then I wake up with a raw throat, like the morning sickness was real, and a very clenched and upset stomach, like I once had a little life squirming around in there. To date, I've never had a dream half as real. I've really underestimated how strong my desire to be a mother is . . .
EDIT: I completely forgot today was 9/11 until I read my friends list. Shows you how much it affects me six years later.
Yes, it was tragic and surreal and terrible, but I think all this "ZOMG anniversary!" shit is grossly inappropriate and exploitative. It happened and it's awful, but do we really need to be bombarded with those images of the towers collapsing past the point of desensitization? Can't we all mourn and grieve privately at this point? All the news stations are putting on this big, over-the-top, utterly phony show and just URGH.
Maybe it's because I didn't have loved ones working or living in that area. My heart, of course, goes out to the innocent that perished, but I'm not going to throw my hands up and make a sad, sobbing display of myself along with the other half of the country to show how affected I am about what happened in 2001.
Yeah, yeah, that's wanky, but I'm tired of having the events shoved down my throat. I remember that day clearly, I don't need to be reminded at every sickening turn. On top of that, we have those fucking ridiculous MOVIES and docu-dramas, wtf. Enough.
Simply, I dreamt that I got pregnant.
It was a drunken one-night stand with a guy I know in real life, though I refuse to say who because I know it'll be met with a lot of disdain and stupid jokes. He and I were fooling around, I remember him distinctly wearing a condom, but I guess it broke sometime during the act. You know how it goes.
Since he now lives out-of-state, he went back to his place of residence across the country and I went back to my life. A few weeks later, I begin feeling very sick and chalk it up to the stomach flu. My mother, however, is very suspicious and asks about what I've been up to. After days of vomiting, she thinks I may be pregnant. A home test will later prove this to be true.
Mom says, "Whatever you feel like doing -- keeping the baby, giving it up or having it . . . taken care of, I want you to think long and hard about that one -- I'll be right there with you."
I consider all my options and decide to keep my unborn child. Mom says that I should tell the guy I was with ASAP. I can't reach him on his phone and leave him a message telling him we have something urgent to discuss. He calls me back a day later and I explain to him the situation.
He says to give him a few days to come back to town and secure a job, he wants to be here with me. He even offers to rent an apartment for us to share and perhaps get married for the benefit of the baby. We tie the knot a few weeks later in a hasty ceremony at city hall.
Finally, the big day arrives and, for whatever reason (can't remember), he can't get to the hospital right away but eventually shows up in time for our daughter to be born. We name her Chloe, though she was born with a lot of respiratory problems.
We live happily together for a year before Chloe dies of said problems. I'm naturally traumatized, but not remorseful I kept her, even if she was sick. Because I loved her so much when she was alive, she definitely wasn't lacking anything. And I remember being with her when she passed, so I was blessed to be with my baby in her final moments; that she slipped away knowing how adored she was.
A year or so after her death, my husband suggests we try for "another miracle". Then I wake up with a raw throat, like the morning sickness was real, and a very clenched and upset stomach, like I once had a little life squirming around in there. To date, I've never had a dream half as real. I've really underestimated how strong my desire to be a mother is . . .
EDIT: I completely forgot today was 9/11 until I read my friends list. Shows you how much it affects me six years later.
Yes, it was tragic and surreal and terrible, but I think all this "ZOMG anniversary!" shit is grossly inappropriate and exploitative. It happened and it's awful, but do we really need to be bombarded with those images of the towers collapsing past the point of desensitization? Can't we all mourn and grieve privately at this point? All the news stations are putting on this big, over-the-top, utterly phony show and just URGH.
Maybe it's because I didn't have loved ones working or living in that area. My heart, of course, goes out to the innocent that perished, but I'm not going to throw my hands up and make a sad, sobbing display of myself along with the other half of the country to show how affected I am about what happened in 2001.
Yeah, yeah, that's wanky, but I'm tired of having the events shoved down my throat. I remember that day clearly, I don't need to be reminded at every sickening turn. On top of that, we have those fucking ridiculous MOVIES and docu-dramas, wtf. Enough.