Waves of nausea fill me, like morning sickness. I sit in “guarded” optimism.
Narda is wanting to talk about it all the time, I’m nervous to even speak about it. I’m afraid it won’t happen.
I’m waiting to have the conversation with my boss about a “possible” leave of absence. I don’t know how it will go, well, I hope.
Narda’s making lists of everything we need, and reading a book about a baby’s growth, week by week. I read the first few weeks, “for educational purposes only.”
Why can’t I let myself feel excitement? I’m afraid to. I want to wait until the last possible minute to jump for joy.
This is the closest we’ve ever become to being parents, and I feel like I’m walking on Karmic eggshells.
I hate feeling like this, I want to give into the joy, instead of the anxiety.