I dreamt last night that I had a(nother) baby. I stood in a motel room that was decorated with birds and flowers, linen curtains with ruffled hems and a bedspread covered in brown and gold woodland scenes. I looked at Nathan, said "Should we get Winni? She might get mad." Winni is my midwife; she would never get mad. When Nathan opened the door to call her, I gave it a try -- a little push -- and out came a vernix-covered baby, cord hanging, pink and blinking.
It actually wasn't all that different than my real births.
Welcome, dream baby. I named you Birdie. You looked like your sister. If that was a premonition, it'd be cool if you could hang out in dreamland for a few more years. Love, Mama.