But anyway, I'm here because I dreamed that I had a baby. The king and I have been trying for a year on Saturday, and during that time, when I haven't been choking down thousands of Vitex and dong quai pills or writhing in agony on the HSG table, I've been reading up on all the great infertility blogs. Like most of us, GetupGrrl over at Chez Miscarriage was my first, and from there I found ALittlePregnant and Tertia and Dooce all the rest of you wonderful women. And as the days went by with no sign of a period, much less an egg, I started to think I should get myself a blog and see if I'm cool enough to hang with those lovely ladies. I'm still not at all sure that I'm cool enough or funny enough, but the dream finally forced me into it.
The dream was simple. I was holding a gorgeous, chubby baby girl to my breast, and like magic, she started nursing. It was amazing. I felt so fulfilled. Oddly, as the dream went on, I realized that the king was not the baby's father; rather, an old boyfriend from high school was. But that was just weird dream-ness. The thing that really got me about the dream was how simple and perfect that baby's sweet little mouth and tiny hands were as I fed her, and how right we felt together. When I woke up and realized it wasn't real, I wanted to cry.
I thought I'd adjusted well to the thought that we don't have a baby yet, and given our impending cross-country move and the king's travel schedule, we probably won't have a chance to indulge in any serious fertility treatments for some time, but the way that dream affected me showed me that I'm still trying to deal with it. And so I realized I needed some way to work it out. So here I am, Internet. I hope you'll like me.