I had my first baby dream last night. It was a newborn baby boy, yet he looked like he was six months old. He was very cute (I am seriously afraid I will have an ugly kid) and he immediately started sleeping through the night. Jake and I kept fighting over who got to hold him when he cried. I woke up with a very peaceful feeling, as if maybe we aren’t completely ruining our lives. I must admit, I am still not completely thrilled about the prospect of having a baby. I sometimes wonder if we made the right decision. I know these feelings are probably normal and will probably change the minute I hear the heartbeat or see the little sea monkey on an ultrasound screen. It’s funny, I spent months trying to calm Jake down about trying for a baby, and now that it has become a reality he is constantly reassuring my insecure ass.

For the record, I have entered week 7 and I am not feeling much different. I am fighting off a cold so that might be distracting me from any prego symptoms. Still no nausea, though I still gag when I brush my tongue in the morning. My boobs don’t hurt as much, but I think I am going to need to buy new bras soon. The cups, they runneth over.