It's almost impossible to remember how we were pre pregnancy. Were we ever happy? It's almost as if we have entered into an ancient warzone of good versus evil. I hopefully am fighting for good. The life of my unborn baby nestled deep inside me, while he does everything in his power to keep me at the highest stress level possible. I find myself constantly asking myself, " is he trying to make me miscarry or did i just find the biggest most selfish idiot on the planet?" With the latter being the most likely.
Two years, a simple age difference of two years, myself of course being the elder, however he claims he is the most mature. Which I highly doubt considering I am expecting a miracle. At eleven weeks pregnant in a fifteen week relationship I find our circumstance most relatable to the motion picture Knocked Up. However funny it may seem later on, it is not now. I've spent a majority of my days cramping and shedding lonely teardrops like a fifties crooner.
It has been a great oppertunity considering for years I thought I was barren and sterile. I know that I will be a good mother, my only question is can I be a good father as well?
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