My worst nightmare come true.

Months spent in a cosy cocoon, oblivious to what was coming.

As awareness grew, it was all about how comfy I was here, buoyant in my liquid bath.

Soothing tones of mother and father, crooning at the edge of my hearing.

Tender talk, wishes and promises of a beautiful life.

Hopes and dreams and plans.

I became cramped in the shrinking space, and longed for escape, for room to stretch and turn.

The stories became scary, daunting, threatening.

Mother’s voice.

Oh, I hope it doesn’t take too long.

Mary said her birth took three days, and she was in pain for two days before she begged for an  epidural.

Sarah’s baby came out blue and was in an incubator for weeks.

I’m afraid. What if the baby is hurt? What if I can’t bear it? What if ….

Oh mother, I thought. Please stop talking.