Pregnant. There, I said it.

I knew it was true before I took the test. My temperature was staying high too long. I became very sensitive to smells. Cow's milk? Forget about it. My pee darkened just a little bit.

I sit in class, repeating to myself Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. It is a boy.

I have an appointment tomorrow at the clinic: The "Women's Clinic". I'm going to pretend that I am 100% sure that this is the best thing to do.

I know that it is, for me, for us, for him. At this point, I could not provide the sort of life that I promised I would. There is not enough money, stability, square-footage, time.

I could stand up and say, We're having a son in October, and we would make it work, but at what cost?

I worry that we will never 'get around' to having children. That Daniel is too cynical - that he does not want to subject another person to this terrible, modern world. I worry that this will be the last time that I feel the heaviness of pregnancy.

So, these are my last 24 hrs.