Heyo, Nut.

A baby-sized southern pecan.

Today is 8 weeks. I don.t know how I feel. Tired. Not especially pregnant, just worn out. I hope all is well under the layers of skin and muscle and bone. I hope there is a strong little heartbeat that is getting more powerful every day. But you never know, right? You never know how long we are here on this plane of existence. We'll see. No sense in stressing. Just nap. Just read Dune and dream of other things. Take long walks and look out at the duck on the lake. Kiss my boy too much.

I have been having dreams that are hard to see and harder to escape. The kind that will rerun the bad bits, just to make you relive them a little longer. Snakes and deep water and things I can't change. I am trying to rewrite them, but that brings sleeplessness, which is another kind of dream world. I'll try harder.

I would write more, but I am behind. Behind on so many little things. The kind of things that if you ignore them, they will make it to tomorrow, but then tomorrow is harder. Chip away at it, Kate. Get that shit over with. It's holding you back.

More whenever.