The BabyCenter weekly update ironically mentioned that dreams get more intense your seventeenth week and they couldn't have been more accurate!
Wednesday night, while battling a nasty cold, I dreamed I had my baby. Well, not exactly... Here's what happened:
I showed up at the hospital and said "Where is my baby?" - I was not pregnant, I was normal, Skinny Jess again. The nurses all said "Oh, we will go get your baby" and I waited with my parents and Bill....and waited....after a while I said "Why can't I see my baby?" and the nurses all kind of looked at one another until one finally said, "We aren't really sure where your baby is right now."
Queue my (dead) grandparents walking in, suddenly in their 70's again and carrying one infant carrier, equipped with one wriggling little infant.
A boy infant.
I looked up at my mom and said, "He looks like a Blanke!" (her maiden name/my grandparents name) and she smiled and said, "No, he looks like a Bedsole."
And that is when I saw his face. He was a perfect, tiny miniature of Bill. I held him and cried and cried thanking God for this beautiful, perfect little boy. I could see every detail of his face. I saw his cheeks and his smile. I felt his full little belly. I saw he had big, bright eyes and looked exactly like my husband.
I looked right at him, smiled and said, "Hello, William."
Now I'm totally conflicted and don't know WHAT is wriggling around inside of me! All along I've been 100% convinced it's a girl, and now that I've seen the face of my son in a dream...I think this baby might be a boy!!
Either way, I'm praying for a healthy, wriggling little bundle of joy. Gender aside, all I want is a healthy baby. My love for him or her already overwhelms me.