Only three months into this pregnancy and I feel like a completely different person. My breast are heavy, they hang in ways I’m not accustom to.

My hips sit wider and thighs curve together more often than not. My face is getting chubby and my checks always tell the story of an embarrassing memory.

My mind doesn’t seem to move as fast. It lingers over colors longer. I slip in and out of daydreaming.

Anger seems foreign – frustration distant.

At night when I lay in bed before I fall asleep – I cry. It’s been years since I’ve cried like this. My chest fills with joy & anxiety & hope & the blank unknown – then I drift off to sleep on my soggy pillow to the most vigorous dreams of my life.

These dreams smell so real and when I wake up in the mornings, they stay with me. They don’t run from the day light of a cognitive mind.

I can’t walk as fast. Actually, I can’t seem to do anything fast. Fast is no longer in my vocabulary. It’s been replaced with “easy does it” or “careful”.

I take my time. I take naps.

I take snack breaks that make people around me giggle. I smile more.

My husband fills our time together with foot rubs and jokes and awkward trips to the mini market. Friends and family call more frequently for the latest breaking news of the belly.

The round of my stomach is still easily hidden behind fall sweaters and coats.

Nothing can conceal my excitement.