Seventeen days left. 

I haven’t slept well in over a week, and I realize now, 

a little too late, 

that I should not be doing a preorder for my own sanity.

My first launch. 

It feels a little like waiting to see my baby for the first time. What will they be like? Will they be okay? Will people like them?

It’s different of course, but the emotions are just as complicated. 

With almost everything ready to go, the one little thing that remains is driving me to dream in big round circles about all the horrible things that could happen.

I tell myself it’s okay, whatever happens is fine. But just like a teenager at a new school, I worry about failing miserably. 

Will I be crushed? 

No matter how much I remind myself I’m writing for the love of it, not for for the reknown, my stomach sits higher in my throat than normal.

Just over two weeks left to figure out what I’m doing. 

Maybe the next time will be easier, or maybe not. My second and third pregnancy were just as fraught with emotion, after all.