Only a few weeks left. *deep breath* I'm feeling a mixture of restlessness, excitement and terror. More so the terror, admittedly. These "what-if" scenarios keep on going through my head and are progressively getting more and more ridiculous. Yet I still worry. =_=; Vincent seems to be the only voice of reason as of late
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My mother won't be there staring down at you.
Yes I may cry like a girl, but knowing you, that's because you've grabbed me by the nuts instead of squeezing my hand.
You'll have the correct dosage of drugs, the baby will cry when he's born. No, I won't be smoking, yes he'll be the envy of all guys at school.
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But... but what if you get hit by a truck and then the ambulance takes the wrong road and and and then the power goes out and the doctor slips on a freshly mopped floor and breaks both his arms?! What'll I do!? Who'll deliver the baby?! ;_______;
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I'm sure that little brat of yours will be okay.
Fuck, I'm sure it ain't waiting on his mommy stressing like this right now.
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