Tadpole

Remember that a few weeks ago I discussed symptoms?  Well, if not, scroll down a bit.  I can't be arsed to link to a post right now.

I still have no confirmation, but I can tell you that I reread It Sucked And I Cried by Heather Armstrong (Dooce) and now I cannot pee with anything that feels like satisfaction.  And I haven't started.

If this is too much for you, apologies.  Move along to something more interesting.

Nightly, I lie in the bed, pat my lower belly, and tell myself that I'm not pregnant.  This internal conversation goes something like this:

I know you're not there, Tadpole, because there's no way you could be.  But if you are, Hi!  I think you might want to consider a different womb.  Mine's messy and weird and full of gunk and goo and hopefully things that you can softly bump in to.  Of course you're not there, but maybe you will be in the future when I've got my head and finances more ready to have you.

Tadpole, my belly is warm and weird and I want to pee like a normal person and why am I feeling this mix of heartburn and nausea?  'Cos that's no fun at all.

(I've got to talk about this somewhere and where else than here?)