six weeks

Apart from owning the boobs that ate Paris, I don't feel pregnant-and it's scaring the living shit out of me. I've been bloated and tired and feeling a little odd the last few days, but today?

Nothing, nada, zip.

I'm bloatless, alert and apart from feeling a little het up because I dreamed I miscarried last night and am convinced I'm about to do so in real life, I feel fine.

There. I said it. I'm convinced the baby's dead.

If I'm still gestating now, and continue to do so, it's going to be like this for nine months, isn't it?

Also, I wonder if I'll ever write about anything else again.

Good grief.