Baileigh Solis

Cain,

So I'm pregnant.

I mean, I haven't had it confirmed by a physician, but with all the signs and symptoms adding up very quickly and two tests coming up positive, I'm pretty much going ahead and assuming it's a definite. I've already picked up some prenatal vitamins, sworn off the alcohol (which, hi, you have no idea how tempting THAT was), and am weening myself off of the caffeine. That's going to be a slow and difficult process because I RUN on it, but I'm doing it. Yes, I've read a book, try not to act surprised. And if by some weird stroke of luck happenstance I'm not pregnant, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Here's the thing, though. These books are written for normal women. I'm not what you'd call entirely normal. I have no clue what's going on in this freakshow of a body of mine. I have no idea what might happen. Obviously Slayers are physically capable of having kids: Nikki Wood had Robin, and there was at least one other Slayer I've dreamt about that had a child, which I'm trying not to think about, because it didn't end well for her or her kid, but anyway. Maybe there'll be nothing unusual at all. Maybe it'd be perfectly safe to find a good OBGYN in the phone book and book an appointment. And maybe it wouldn't be. So, guess what, you're stuck with me as a patient, because you know the most about our physiology, and you're the only person that I can trust with absolute certainty not to call The Enquirer if some weird Bella Swan thing goes down. I seriously seriously doubt that it will, but I'm not taking any chances.

So. There you go. I've already e-mailed Ethan and asked him to send you a copy of Nikki's Watcher's diary, if he's got it, and to get it from the Council library if he doesn't.

Hope you're well, and all.

--B

Does Hiro like Star Wars?