I am afraid. I am afraid that I will take my test and it will be positive. I am afraid that my beautiful baby that I have worked for, loved, and cried over will be like the other babies that I care for at work. The ones that were given a tough start to life. Ones that now, into adult hood, need help being fed or can't even swallow food. Would I love my baby all the same? With every fiber of my being, yes. But the fear overwhelms me.

I am afraid that I will take my test and it will be negative. I am afraid that the pain will crush me, and that the one thing I want most will never be a reality.

I am afraid that I will pick at my body and my habits and find problems that don't exist, just so I can have something to blame. Something to hate.

I am afraid that the pain I will feel could turn me into a calloused and petty person. I am afraid of the jealousy that I will feel as I see friends and family with their rounded bellies and baby shower invites.

I know this rant makes it seem like this is all I think about, but it really isn't. It is a slow and steady trickle of doubts, fears, and insecurities. A trickle that pools into my brain and heart until it bursts out because I can no longer keep it inside. A stream that I need to learn how to deal with in a healthy manner.

Where do I go from here? I have no idea.

I just know that it needs to be taken one day at a time.