my DIY baby

I just woke from a dream of twins. Two little boys (always little boys in baby dreams all my life, but never two) called Mike and Carl. No, I didn’t name them. Though I went through much of the dream less concerned about who did than I was upset that these kids weren’t breast-feeding and yet they were already somewhere in the neighborhood of two months old. I wondered how I’d missed the opportunity to start and was feeling panicky that they wouldn’t be interested and I’d never get to try it.

I sense there’s a part of me that assumes we’ll play this Try To Get Pregnant game for a year or so, and then there will be a baby… or two. * Poof! *  So suddenly here we are, two kids and no strollers and a bunch of strangers are naming them for you because you haven’t been paying attention for two months.

As soon as I realized they weren’t breast feeding of course I wanted to try it, so held them up and – I’ll spare you the details, but honestly, they didn’t have a lot to work with. I couldn’t get any milk going, because I have no idea how to do that. Still, Carl did a pretty good job of latching on. Carl was already my favorite – he had the placid face of the little boy from Mad Men. Mike probably did too, but I was having a hard time getting a good look at him, as he always seemed to be in a routine with someone else.

Then I took Everyone Else in the dream to task for naming my kids Carl and Mike, while scouring a rather minimal library for something by La Leche League.

Funny what makes its way into your consciousness.