A few nights ago I had a dream. I was with my kids at some gathering with other Catholic families. I didn't know anybody and was engaged in that get-to-know-you small talk. Even though I was carrying Mary, now three months old (for real, but in my dream too), several women asked me how far along I was. "Sheesh," I thought, "don't they see the baby? Surely I look more postpartum than pregnant?"
Then I looked at one woman, and I realized, in that way that you can read minds in dreams, that she had seen the baby. The question was really their catty way of telling me that I should have more children, that I was a bad Catholic for not being pregnant again already. "I haven't even started my cycles yet," I thought in my own defense. But it didn't matter. I was judged and condemned.
But it was just a dream. In real life, we try hard not to judge each other. In real life, we're not catty. In real life, we don't read minds.
And in real life, I don't look three months pregnant. Right?