Most of the time, though I've told almost everyone I know about it, I don't really let myself believe that I am pregnant this time. It seems too fragile to possibly be for real. I've learned too much. Pregnancy? That's something that happens to other people. It's sort of the way I felt all through high school about sex and boyfriends. Someone else made them up, because man, there was no way that was going to happen to me.
Then I fell asleep at my desk yesterday. Not spontaneously, because that would be scary, but I was so exhausted, I just put my head down on my jacket and slept. It was a suggestion I read in a pregnancy book that I also didn't believe in. Who could ever be that tired?
When I woke up after ten minutes of not quite slumber, I sent an e-mail to Trotter: I guess I'm really pregnant.
She replied: I certainly hope so because otherwise? Creepy!
I came home and went to sleep at 7:30. On my best days, I may be lame, but I sure hope that falls into the pregnancy lame category.
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