It has been a week since then. Roughly.

Occasionally, Mother will enter long periods of inactivity. I can only assume she is asleep during these periods. With that, I can more or less keep track of the passage of time. I do find it odd, however, that I am able to retain my consciousness unceasingly. I’ve only existed for roughly a week but I cannot seem to recall any break in my memory. Perhaps I do not require sleep? Somehow, as a fetus, I feel like I should be doing little else but sleeping. Or rather, to begin with, are my thoughts not somehow bizarrely constructive and lucid? My fetus brain most certainly should not be developed enough to support such a matured mentality. Perhaps my physiology is unique. How strange.

Speaking of which, after a week it seems that my body has more or less stabilized. That awful knife-like pain arrived with ever decreasing frequency, eventually stopping completely. However, wherever that sharp, gouging sensation visited, it would always leave a muscle aching sort of residual pain in its wake. In the end, it seems, I’ve only exchanged an intermittent sharp pain for a continuous dull one,

Even so, my situation isn’t all too terrible. My body feels somewhat… well, no, truthfully it feels extremely uncomfortable. Still, it isn’t anything I cannot handle. The pain appears to flare up only when I move, so as long as I keep my body relatively still it doesn’t hinder my everyday fetus life.

Within the past week I’ve also learned a bit about my family.

It would seem that I am part of the somewhat well-to-do Lancaster family. Mother and Father mention the name from time to time. As a fetus, my only method of gathering information is listening in on Mother’s conversations, so I can’t say I’ve gleaned much. I have, however, become much more familiar with my parents’ voices. Considering where I am positioned, I can hear Mother’s voice quite clearly. She has a lovely sort of gentle, clear voice. It has a refreshing timbre, reminiscent of a clean brook by a forestside. When she speaks, her voice has a way of reverberating through the fluid that I exist in which transmits the vibrations directly throughout my entire body. It’s as if the voice comes from within me, and from without me. It’s quite relaxing.

Father has a crisp, honest sounding voice. Truthfully, I don’t have much of an impression of it, because any sound that doesn’t come from Mother is muffled, as if coming from several rooms away. In fact, almost all speech aside from Mother’s is rendered unintelligible. I can understand Father to a degree because he spends quite a bit of time wrapped in passionate embrace around Mother. I must admire the two. They certainly give off the sort of feeling as if to say, “As long as you are with me, dear, I will willingly endure any sort of trial!” Come to think of it, I believe I’ve heard them say nearly those exact words before. Way to go, you two.

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From the conversations between them, I’ve also learned a bit about our family’s situation. It would seem we are of nobility, part of the aforementioned Lancaster Family. However, our position within the family itself does not appear to be favorable. I’m not aware of the circumstances but there seems to exist some sort of rift between Mother, and the rest of the family. Well I’ve never met the other members of the family before, personally, but if there exists some sort of enmity between them and a person as sweet as Mother, then they mustn’t be very pleasant.

Father is apparently of common birth. However, his talent appears to be extraordinary. I don’t quite know the details but it seems he at least has the merit to be employed by the Royal Palace. Whatever my Father’s line of work, if we consider his employer, surely he must be rather capable. In the place where the King and Queen reside, even the servants must be extraordinary.

Mother is an instructor at some institute. From what I hear, they’re giving her some time off to care for me. A bit of a shame, really. I would’ve loved to listen in on one of Mother’s lectures from my unique position. Well, it’s also not good for Mother to be exerting herself in her condition. It’s best to get some rest for the next few months or so, Mother. Health comes first, after all!

I do truly wish I was in a more favorable position to gather information. As you might imagine, being negative a number of weeks old does somewhat limit my options. Up until now I’ve been busy writhing about in excruciating agony so it hasn’t been bothering me all that much until recently, but…

Please consider. I am trapped in a dark, jar-sized container of fluid. Every time I move a jolt of pain shoots through my body. And despite all this my mind maintains a state of constant awareness.

Might I complain for a minute?

In short…

It’s boring! It’s irritating!

Having an adult’s presence of mind at my age could surely be considered an incredible advantage, but if God or the Fates or what have you were going to drop me into a child’s body, could they not have waited at least until after the child was born!? Observe, my stubby arms! My adorable, oversized head! I vaguely remember coming to this world with some sort of purpose in mind, but how am I expected to fulfill any sort of purpose as a minus-one-year-old fetus!?

Ahh…

My apologies. I lost control of myself for a moment.

Well, it seems that no matter what age they are, children simply can’t wait to grow up.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Mother’s sake I’d have half a mind to just crawl out and birth myself.