3w6d

It all began as a passing thought last week in the shower, thinking that there was an awful lot of hair going down the drain, something that happens only when I’m pregnant. Or perhaps it began with noticing how often I had to pee. Or when I realized I was a day late (today) and took the test that would show two thin blue lines. Maybe it was the dream I had a few days ago, in which I was lactating and sprayed milk across the room while D. sat tacitly and nonchalantly watching the whole spectacle. But none of these things, really, mark the beginning. No, the start was when I told him on the phone and was met with near silence. And it had definitely begun when I told him I’d spent most of the afternoon huddled in a ball on my bathroom floor, crying, and all he did was tell me he needed time and space to think.