The Wonder Of It All Part 1

"This journal is the sole property of Womb. Read at your own risk — and don't say I didn't warn you."

NOTE: PART 1 OF TWO PART SERIES

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December 13

I'm not sure if anyone can hear me, but I think the world is coming to an end. This is serious!

I've decided to keep a journal, just in case I'm not around to share my thoughts with anyone. You know — document the end of my existence.

Seventeen years of nothing happening, staring at this dark, under-used space — well, except when my landlord pokes around once a month with that little plastic thing. What a mess. You'd think she'd find something better to do with her time.

Speaking of time — the first time I was invaded — what a total shock. It looked like a deformed finger.

But last night? Something wild was happening with the landlord. At first, I thought I'd missed the invitation to some party, and I was a little miffed.

The whole house was rocking. Things were bumping, and the temperature started rising — not as hot as a furnace, but close. I heard loud grunts, and they weren't coming from Miss Stomach or the Fart Factory either.

I heard the landlord, and I think someone else breathing heavily (giving the lungs a real workout), grunting, and growling.

Believe me, I am trying to document this perfectly so that when the end of the world happens, the aliens—or whoever is taking over—will understand precisely what took place.

Out of nowhere, something invaded my personal space. And let me tell you — it wasn't that little plastic guy this time. This was a full-on torpedo.

Thunder. Pounding. And then — I kid you not — the thing threw up.

All over me!

It reared its ugly head, spat all over, and then it was gone. She took a long shower, but I guess she missed a few spots because now there are squiggly little swimmers doing laps in here like it's spring break.

The Heart's been beating funny ever since. Not bad. Just different. Heavier.

I don't think this was planned. I heard her crying after. Or maybe I imagined it. If the Heart heard it, perhaps she'd explain. She usually knows about stuff.

Anyway, that's why I'm writing now. Peace is over. It's not a full-blown war yet, but something big is happening.

December 24

It's Christmas. I know that because of all the loud caroling and laughing outside. I figured if the visitor made it this far, the Jolly Old Man might help me out with this package — hand it off to someone else. I haven't seen the guy in the funny red suit, though.

December 25

Whatever this is — it didn't just pass through. It's made itself comfortable, like snuggling up in front of a cozy fire.

I tried to convince myself that it might be a weird cramp. Maybe something the landlord ate. But no. It's growing.

Those squiggly worms even left.

I don't even know how, but my walls — my entire self — feel different. Stretchy. Sensitive. Like I'm being decorated from the inside without the Christmas lights.

I tried to nudge it out. A gentle flex, a polite squeeze.

Nothing.

So, I wrapped around it instead. I don't know why.

Instinct? Habit? Curiosity?

"She's only seventeen," I murmured.

(Okay, thought — but if anyone could hear, it'd be the Heart.)

There was no answer, but Heart pounded. She's aware something is different.

I'm not sure either of us knows what's going on.

But I think I'm starting to care — and that's terrifying.

February 22  

Will wonders never cease? Now there's a toy drum in here — or maybe some really strange gas bubbles. It sounds like faint, fluttery beats.

I gotta ask Heart about this one.

What if I've got a tumor? Or a ticking bomb?

Tick… tick… tick.

Oh dear Lord — I take it back. I'm sorry I ever complained about that torpedo spitting all over me. Someone, do something!

I'm not ready to die. Will tomorrow come?

February 23

Whew! It's another day, and Heart blew my mind. She got all mushy on me and explained the toy drum — well, the beat —  it belongs to my visitor. Heart says I'd better accept that I've got a roommate. 

February 25

I felt it today — the faintest blip, like a toe-tapping in the dark. And my own rhythm stumbled a little.

I don't think I'm alone anymore.

The landlord — she rested her hand on me today. Just for a second. Didn't say a word. But I felt her fingers press gently into my skin.

Not hard. Not scared. Just wondering.

I think she felt it, too.

I've never done this before.

She hasn't, either.

But something's starting.

Could this be what I've been waiting for? Seventeen years of lying around doing nothing, and then this?

March 1

Heart spent some time with me today, which was sort of a sex education session. She said one of the squiggly worms found this egg (can you believe all this stuff that invaded my spot?). Anyway, when they got together, some magical miracle happened, and what became my roommate is what humans call a baby.

A baby? Heart says it's something like a doll, but much better.

March 4

I'm not sure about all this — shouldn't I have been consulted about it? Heart says it could be a she or a he.

This is worse than an invasion. I might have a boy taking up space in here. That can't be! I have signs saying 'Girls' Domain, Boys Stay Out' and 'Girl Power' everywhere. And this torpedo – told you it was a secret operation – might have dropped a male – one of those dirty, smelly things — inside me.

March 5

I didn't sleep much last night. I'm trying to understand all this stuff Heart is talking about. She says if it is a boy, I'm stuck with it.

Okay, weird question…

How do I know it's a boy?

I don't know — like, I haven't seen anything. But I feel it.

There's something bold about the way he moves. Like he's testing his strength already, trying to stand before he's built.

Today, he kicked. Not just a nudge — a full-on HEY, I'M IN HERE.

I flinched. Then smiled. (If I could smile. Pretty sure I don't have a face.)

March 16

Nobody's said anything yet, but I'm putting my money on he's a boy.

The landlord talked to him this morning. Just a few words, low and unsure. Still, it was the first time I felt her trying to connect.

The Heart responded with a rhythm I'd never felt before — almost proud.

We're all figuring this out.

But we're starting to fall in love with him.

One by one.

March 23

Something's wrong!

Today, the landlord cried all day. No music. No smiles. No humming like she did last week.

March 24

The landlord went with this guy in one of those thingamajig things they call a car. This one needed a major overhaul — it was loud. And the music was blasting. But I still could hear his voice — I mean, how dare he talk to the landlord like that? She should kick him to the curb.

She cried and kept rubbing across my stomach. It felt sweet, like she was trying to reassure the roommate and me.

The next thing I knew, the contraption stopped. He got out and slammed something hard. The landlord sat there until he started yelling at her. I didn't get it all, but he was telling her they were doing this.

My walls cramped so hard with fear. All I could think was they were going to shoot another one of those torpedoes off, and I'd have another roommate.

Instead, we found ourselves in an office. It was cold and had those funny beams in the ceiling that buzzed. (Note- Later, I did ask Brain about those, and she said they are lights.)

The man's voice was mean, like when the landlord's dad wanted his point understood. He kept telling her that she had better listen before it was too late."

She was trembling, causing wild vibrations to flow through the house. Between the sobbing and his yelling, it was hard to get what she was trying to say. But I think she was saying she couldn't do whatever he wanted.

Inside me, my roommate is still. No kicks. Just quiet.

I tightened. Tried to hide it. I don't know how, but I wanted to pull it closer to me.

She cried.

And for the first time, I felt something break in me, too.

I wanted to let go. To make it stop — for her, for him, for all of us.

But deep down, I knew that choice wasn't mine.

Heart stayed steady. Slower but steady. Brain went into high gear, mumbling about it's a life, you can't do this. You don't destroy a gift from God. I think that's how she calmed down.

After a while, she whispered, "I just need time."

We all did.

April 25

It's been a month now since that guy's been around. She seems calmer and no longer cries.

It's been a busy time. I didn't write about it because, between you and me, it had nothing to do with the end of the world. Unless you are me — then it was just darn humiliating.

We went to another office. It was brighter, and the humans were nicer. She put those long, lanky things she stands on up into some metal contraptions, and someone tossed a white sheet over them. At first, I thought it was Halloween. But no – it was far worse than any spook house I'd been to. This human in a white coat began turning on all these bright lights and probing and prodding in you-know-where. It couldn't have gotten any worse unless another human had been filming it.

I could tell she didn't like it much, but the girl human was really kind to her, whispering motherly words to my human, assuring her that everything was going to be alright, just to trust in the Lord.

I get the stuff about the Lord, but between you and me,

He needs to have a few heart-to-heart talks with people like that. Maybe explain about loving thy neighbor.

The landlord didn't say much after that, but something in her Heart felt stronger. She kept whispering, "I'm going to have a baby." So, I guess she's discovered the name for what's been growing inside me. Baby!

She's scared. Brain and Heart have been busy helping her make the right decisions, but as far as I can tell, she believes she can do this on her own.

I don't know what's coming next.

May 1

Today was a great day. The landlord and another human (a real chatterbox) went out to lunch and then shopping.

The landlord bought a blanket. Yellow. Fuzzy.

She kept shoving her face into it and saying real goofy stuff like "I love you." Now, even I know you don't love blankets. Maybe like, but love? Oh well, maybe she thinks it's safer than the torpedoes.