There are moments when everything changes — quietly, invisibly. You might only see a faint line on a test, yet something deep inside whispers: “something has begun.” The world looks the same, but you aren’t. It feels like a secret miracle, hidden between heartbeats.

The first days after finding out are often filled with quiet awe. Your body already knows what your mind can’t yet grasp. Cells divide, life stirs — and you become the space where something begins. It can feel huge and unreal at once, like standing between two worlds.

In that stillness, a new kind of awareness appears. You might feel stronger, yet more fragile than ever. Maybe you fear hoping too much, or worry that you don’t feel the way you’re “supposed to.” All of that is normal. This moment isn’t about understanding — it’s about allowing life to unfold in silence.

Alma’s advice:

• Let this moment be what it is — you don’t have to feel everything right away.

• Speak gently to your body; it already carries the wisdom you need.

• Write small reflections, not to remember, but to meet yourself in what’s new.

To know life has begun — without being able to see it — is one of the purest forms of trust there is.