Little.
Big.
It hurts. It is an annoyance. I am regretting my transformation from flower to one of another sort. My stomach is protruding greatly, a bump growing far too big for me to stand as straight as I ever did, leaning me back to accept the weight. Aster has confined me to sitting and lying about, saying that moving about too much in this state would be harmful for both me and my seed.
I reply only with a few words I had learned from my friends, and recognize he is only watching for my safety. But I could do without this obvious hindrance. It hurts my back and leaves me reeling with a morning sickness that only serves to dizzy my head and worry his.
I think I would have rathered dropping my seeds in the dirt.
