It’s all about the embryo now. So I worry. About everything.

I worry when I’m cold and shiver. I worry when I eat McDonalds. I worry about cooking baby in a hot bath. I worry about my coffee drinking. I worry when I lye on my stomach. Then when I lye on my back. I wonder if holding in farts is bad for baby. I worry about what activities I can, can not and should not do. I worry about cramps, headaches, and hungerpains.

I worry. About Everything.

I worry about worrying. Shouldn’t I be calm? Serene?

But how is that possible when I’m cramping and farting with sore breasts and an over-active mind. Serenity, I’m afraid, can kiss my ass as I fart in its face.


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