I’ve heard rumors about these alleged crazy pregnancy dreams, but now that I’ve experienced them, I have to say, HOLY EFFING SPITBALLS. (I meant to say spitballs, but autocorrect changed the word to spitballs, so that works too. I MEANT SHITBALLS, god damn it autocorrect!).

These dreams are the realest thing, I can smell, taste and feel everything in them.

I’m saying these dreams, plural, because I’m assuming I’ll have more of them, but so far there’s only been one.

I was at the end of labor, I had already pushed and when I looked down, I had given birth to a full grown man who looked very similar to Dani. He looked over at me and said, “Mom! We’re late to my wedding!!!”

I jumped out of the hospital bed, ran through the revolving doors with him holding my hand, and we flagged down a taxi. “Driver, take us to my wedding!” said my fully adult newborn son.

We pulled up to a wedding venue that looked like a generic mix of all the wedding venues I’ve ever photographed and we realized we had missed the ceremony, the cocktail hour, and most tragically of all, the portrait session. Sprinting into the venue, we were immediately pulled onto the dance floor for the mother-son dance, which in Chile is the waltz.

That’s when I realized I was bare-assed in my hospital gown and woke up laughing and crying at the same time.

(update: there hasn’t been more than that one. So I’ll take it at face value. I’m having a boy and he’s going to be born full grown.)