ten weeks

I'm sitting here in a daze. The only thing I want is to hear my baby's heartbeat. I want something tangible to prove to myself that this baby is alive. That I'm not imagining things. That my body hasn't betrayed me again and I am just harboring a twisted mass of cellular trash instead of a baby. I have to wait one more week for an ultrasound.

Seven days.

One hundred sixty-two hours.

I am trying to be positive. I am trying to believe. But I am really, really scared.

When I first considered that I might be pregnant, I silently wished that it wouldn't be true. I wished for my life to stay just like it was. I didn't want to introduce anything new. I wasn't sure that I was cut out to be someone else's mom. I didn't think that I had enough in me to give to anyone else. I didn't want to do anything else to rock the boat.

Then I took a pregnancy test.

And another.

And another.

And everything changed. All that uncertainty went away.

I want this baby. I want this baby to grow and develop and be.

I am trying to stay positive. I am trying to believe. But, I am still really, really scared.