It all started because of a dream. One about Pokemons, or more specifically, evolving a Pidgeotto into a Pidgeot. Admittedly, I was evolving some of my Pokemons before hitting the sack, but to actually dream about the virtual monsters was another thing altogether.
My husband and I had a huge argument some nights ago. It was about my pride and unwillingness to see my own faults. He was so hurt that he went straight to bed after his shower.
If the interviewers knew the type of student I was in school, they would probably have rejected my application right away. I was hyperactive, restless, and even “overly dramatic”—according to one teacher’s description in my report card.
It wasn’t an easy decision. I was comfortable where I was. Besides, I had spent more than half a decade in this environment. My workplace was basically the same university I had studied in.
A little over a year ago, my husband and I found out that I was pregnant. We were naturally overjoyed, but also a little terrified of the actual birth process. Giving birth is a painful, messy, and dangerous process.