24 Songtahn, 1838 CC
I am in trouble, and I am loath to admit it.
I am almost four months with child, and have started to show no matter how I dress. I pray to Lyssa and to Dwayna and to Melandru that it will pass well, because to be certain, I am not sure whom I should direct my prayers to. I did pray to Kormir in the early days, however, pertaining to the truth. Because the truth is; the child is a merchant's, not my fiancé's. He knows. It happened before we met - thank the Gods for that at least - and I told him once it became clear that we were meant to be together. Which was, well, really quickly.
It pained him so much. He wanted to break it off initially, rather unsuccessfully. Two days later he came back with a lump in his throat. He wanted to try, because he did love me and the child is an innocent. It hurt him so much, though, to see me struggle with another man's child, and there was not a single thing I could do. I considered terminating, but that would be an affront to Lyssa. He has since come around a little. He lays his hands on my belly, and he assured me that the child will least of all lack a father, and that he wants to be close. And if it is a girl, he offered to recognise her as his own. But I do not want him to live a lie for me, and I do not want the child to live a lie. Never mind the rumours. In truth, I think I am more anxious than him at this stage, filled with guilt.
The father has been missing in action for a month since the Pact assault. I am presuming he is dead. We did not get along well, but it was our stupid responsibility. He made a promise beforehand, that if a child came of it, he would take the child in and care for it. At the time, that seemed agreeable, because I did not have the means to raise a child, and there was no prospect that we would get married. I found out afterwards, of course, that he was engaged. His now-wife has been nothing but furious, but they stayed together. Surrendering the child to him seemed less and less pleasant as the weeks tallied. At some point, we were in agreement about shared parenthood, which would mean shuffling the child back and forth. Not ideal, but I cannot deny a child its father. He went missing after that.
What makes matters worse, is that my appetite has been the worst. A year and a half ago, something happened that had me malnourished entirely. My appetite has never recovered. I had gotten into the habit of eating cooked egg in the morning, and one or two bowls of broth or soup over the day, which was about as much as I could stomach. Since four days, this has been reduced to nothing at all. I tried three spoons of broth (I could not stomach more), and was consequently sick on the floor, three spoons lighter again.
At the clinic, they want to force-feed me if my appetite does not recover itself. They say it's all in my head, though my gag reflex feels very real. I am scared for my life. Or rather, scared for someone else's. What makes matters worse is that this is not exactly the first time. A year and a half ago, my period had stopped, and I thought nothing of it thinking it might be a response to malnourishment. A few weeks later, I had a dead thing in my hands. That was not pleasant at all, and I do not want that to happen ever again. But I swear that as soon as something enters my mouth, I desperately want it out rather than in.
I am at wit's end.
Writes With Ink Brushes