I think I would probably be perfectly happy keeping this baby inside me until she was ready if I didn't feel so pressured by society. I love being pregnant most of the time. I love the little kicks and turns. I love knowing that while she's still inside me, I can protect her. As soon as she's out, I can only do my best where that's concerned, and it will never be a guarantee. I love just sitting and relishing the moments when I start thinking about her and she moves around, almost as if in response to the love that I am sending her way. I love imagining what she will look like. Who she will be. What she will love. But, for some reason, I am not overly anxious to meet her deep down inside. Deep down inside, I'm....content. I'm happy that I'm finally here...that I'm finally living my dream of being pregnant. It feels wonderful.
