I knew that this day would come- the day when I was harboring a fugitive inside my virgin walls. My life has been absolutely upside down the past month. Turns out creating life is a difficult undertaking- it's eerie to think that there is brain activity going on inside me that is not mine, nor do I have any control over the secondary heart beating in my belly.
I got to see it on Monday- sure enough it had a flickering pen line of a heart. Little nubs that will one day be arms, and in seven months... I guess I will be a mother. I feel more like a mothership than a mother. The parasite inside of me makes me hungry, nauseous. Makes me angry, sad, and say things I totally mean. Makes me feel more anxiety, less anxiety than I ever though possible. It has been such a roller coaster, and besides the curiously alcohol-free nature of my life the past month and some... I don't look much different.
I notice the paunch getting more defined, even despite the pounds I've lost. My chest is heavier and more sensitive than ever. I have the biggest bags under my eyes I've ever seen.
I've confided my secret in few- my grandmother makes me the happiest. She is full of hope and love, and strange words of wisdom. The rest of the family finding out makes me both anxious and that we will be judged- and at the same time I will feel so good after Saturday when everyone will know.
So far the baby is healthy. We are in our own place, and we are surviving. He is excited. I mostly worry, and feel nauseous.
About being a decent parent.
About managing working while I feel like total garbage.
About maintaining our budget.
About if our alien will sprout up normal.