Of Ramen Descent?

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I had another bizarre-o dream last night (One of the many uber-strange dreams I get when pregnant).  My baby was packaged in one of those blocks of Ramen Noodles and needed to be cooked out.  He didn’t quite cook long enough, so the noodles were still fairly blockish and stiff, so instead of fishing him out of a soupy bowl, we had to pluck the noodles off  and he was all gummy.  Ever tried to wipe spaghetti up from a table or floor and all it wants to do is roll around?  It was like that.

So is this my subconscious fear that he won’t “cook” long enough (I have a rambling, resenting vent about the way my first two deliveries went down, starting with my water breaking/leaking “too soon” before labor would kick in on its own…maybe I’ll share some time), or that we’ll end up with some clumsy home birth?  Am I envisioning his poor little future of “pasta night” at home with two big brothers?  More likely, the “cooking” I’ve been doing in my exhaustion has led to an MSG hallucination.

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