Baby bumps in the night

Last night I had a dream that I was in severe pain and had to go to the hospital. Good thing I was there because I suddenly went into labor and delivered a child. WAIT, SAY WHAT DREAM? And then the doctors kicked me out of the hospital cause I don't have health insurance. And I was back to freaking out because WAIT NOBODY SHOWED ME HOW TO FEED THIS THING. (Even in my DREAMS the fact that I haven't seen a doctor in like 2 years haunts me.)

Isn't this sounding like a nightmare?

Well it got better because we got home and over time I learned some things about my unnamed baby boy (I barely had time to realize he existed, I didn't have a name yet! Though I do have grand plans to name my child Oak Sterling.) I learned that my son was SERIOUSLY KICK-ASS. Besides being chubby and cute, he cried silently, which was a definite plus in my book, and secondly, he had over a few weeks magically learned to talk. I greatly appreciated that he took the time to do this since he technically had been an unauthorized uterine stowaway and we hadn't met with the best of first impressions.

So I went on Facebook to tell everyone that I had recently acquired a super-cute baby that could TALK (Clearly that was a priority here, not hunting down the phantom man who unknowingly impregnated me in my sleep or asking my baby if he by any chance knew how the hell he'd learned to speak so fast.) and when I posted this and looked later, everyone was all, "So and So likes this!" "Oh congrats!", "He's so cute", not "WHEN THE HELL DID YOU HAVE A BABY?"

I would have even accepted a "Come again? Did you say your newborn child was using words? Because that's only slightly impossible."

This either means:
A. I need to do some sit-ups so that the world and myself knows when I'm harboring a tiny human.
B. My friends are idiots.
C. I have some really screwed up dreams.