Because I wasn’t letting anyone know about my pregnancy, I kept a lot of my fears private, and thought maybe now I would share them.

Here’s something I wrote on September 28 when I couldn’t sleep one night.

My period’s a week late. I spotted for a couple days, day 27 and 28 or 28 and 29, thought I was getting my period, felt the bluesiness, the heaviness, but then it didn’t come. Now it’s a week late. It’s probably nothing, probably just the stress of the transition, the move, being here—the last time I got it was right before we came out here—but still, I think about telling Harlan I’m late, think about taking a test and my heart pounds against my ribs against my mattress.

What would I think? Just if? I guess I’ve been consciously having sex when I’m fertile, I mean there’s an unspoken and somewhat spoken agreement between us if not to try per se then at least to not try not to, and here I am wondering. I have such a distance from it. I’m completely removed, don’t know what I would feel, except for one thing: overwhelming sadness with regards to boo. I want boo to have me all to himself and I can’t bear the thought of his feeling somehow less, somehow less important, less loved, less the love of my life. That absolutely breaks my heart.

And not being near my parents. Tonight when I talked to Haig and Hamida, I told them how sad it is for my parents not to be near him and it almost broke my heart. The thought of my father unable to visit him a couple times a week, just to read to him, play ball with him, watch him roam around the yard. He is so attached to him, I feel like we should be there. It doesn’t matter how settled we become here, that we realize that Cambridge isn’t a bad place to be, that we learn to like it even, we should be there with them so that they can see their grandson every week, watch him grow, so he can know them the way I knew my grandparents. I believe that with every bit of my heart.

Today in yoga, kundalini, I held my hand over my belly and another over my heart, the way we did in prenatal yoga, just in case. I also wondered if all that breath of fire would be okay if I were pregnant and yesterday I lowered myself into the whirlpool at the gym for the first time and thought, oh shit! I can’t do this if I am, and only stayed in for a minute. I’m acknowledging the possibility, even though it’s unlikely. I don’t feel pregnant, but I didn’t feel pregnant the first time. I felt pregnant after the first IVF and I wasn’t, so clearly my instinct is off. I haven’t been pooping which is totally weird for me, not all day today and the last few days have been rough going, so strange for me. Was I constipated when I was pregnant? I don’t think so, but I think it’s a common pregnancy symptom.

Yikes, I just checked a website and it said you can take a test as soon as you’ve missed a period. I don’t want to know! I think I’ll wait a few more days. I can’t believe I’m even talking about this. I was thinking about the first time I found out, on the phone with Harlan, how excited I was…and now there is Aidan. But who would this new little person be? I’d have to go through the stress again, the anxiety, the discomfort, the genetic testing. Pregnancy is a huge big deal and then the sleeplessness again, the exasperation, the lack of time. I want to write my screenplay! I want to write my book! I haven’t even rewritten my birth story for publication! WTF?!