Memories

They said I'd never forget. Well, I haven't. I'm sure I never will.

Yet, there's this recurring dream that wakes me up every few weeks. I had it again last night.

I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby move. Big belly, glowing, strong, healthy, ready to give birth.

We decided a long time ago - as a couple - that we didn't want to do the new-parent thing again. Really, we talked about all of the pros and cons and financial considerations and decided quite rationally that it's something we don't want to do.

But this dream keeps waking me up. And it's not just a night-time dream. I think. So when it woke me this morning, I told Wood about it.

"So is that what you want, to be pregnant?

"I don't think so. I mean, when I think rationally about all of the things that being pregnant means, it's pretty easy to talk myself out of it. But, at the same time, I want a different experience. But that's not rational, and even though I don't understand it completely, you don't want to do it again.

"So, you're saying that you want to have another kid but you've not talked to me about it because I said don't want to do it?

"Well, yeah, you don't want to. Besides, do you enjoy being a parent?

"Yeah! I do. But I don't know about managing everything - I don't do well with all of the pressure.

My sister and I talked today. Turns out that last night she had a dream that I was pregnant.

Weird.

I decided a few weeks ago that I want to write my story. Wood laughed and said he was sure it was a fleeting thought. That I was high on the success of my friend that has recently had her first book published.

At first it was going to be "15-20, for life". It would be about those formative years spent trying have an adult relationship and failing miserably, only to find those experiences as the impetus for a completely different life. I've been thinking about it (pen name or real? in secrecy or public? to friends or family? How much of *my* truth to write? what about the blank spaces, how do I fill those in? Memoir? Novel? Story? Happy ending? I started another blog page but haven't posted yet.). I'm still trying to get past the laughter that emanated from he who is my life partner now, to find the thesis statement - my voice - for 15-20 for life. But it's not 15-20 for life. It's much more than that.

I can't quite get the total story yet. I think it starts somewhere in an oh-so-safe-suburban home where an 8 year old girl writes about her life and frustrations with complete and utter honesty in her notebook only get an ass-whoopin' that haunts her ability to write to this day. "So, you think suburbia's safe, huh?"

I'm trying to give birth. To something brave, strong, healthy and true. It's a story. And maybe a baby too.