Something had happened. I was lying on a hospital bed in the ward for pregnant/expecting women. The walls and ceiling seemed quite white to me. The sheets of the beds which were arranged in a column/row order were white. I was lying on one in the top-right corner if one keeps the entrance of the room at the left-hand side. I didn't see the entrance, but I knew it was there.
Two nurses were doting over me, telling me how it wasn't my fault that something had happened. It appeared that my unborn child had had a heart attack, yet I was the one who got the anti-coagulant injection. I got the injection in my left arm, when I looked at the spot I could see a kind of substance spurting out of it in a small jet of a few mm across, at the end of which (first a few cm, then about 1 cm high) the substance just seemed to vanish. I found myself wondering what it was and why no one commented on it, yet didn't feel very worried.
I knew that I was pregnant, a few months in. I didn't feel very worried about anything, mostly a semi-numb feeling, as though I wasn't fully aware of what was going on. Another part of me, however, was making itself known, pointing out that I couldn't be pregnant since I'm intersexual, that it wanted people to know, especially the one nurse who spent the most time with me, yet the rest of me didn't pay attention to this complaining part. Somehow it felt okay to ignore it.
One or more women in the room were talking about how great it was to have children almost from the very start of the dream, with the two nurses talking about it as well. Saying how it'd change my life for the better to have a child. Near the end I began to say how one child would be more than enough for me. The one nurse said something to the extent of how I could present the father (to my parents, it felt) and a mother. One of the other women then made a humorous remark about that comment.