[ WP ] A pregnant woman discovers that , by absorbing the stem cells of her foetus , she is able to regenerate her own organs . Theoretically , if she continues to get pregnant , she can live forever .

It wasn ’ t until after the first 2 children had already been born that I discovered something was amiss with them. They were 3 and 5 years old. Martha and Kelly, respectively, such beautiful young children. Kelly had eyes just like her father ’ s. Soft blue that faded to grey just before the pupils. She shared his personality as well. The way she spoke was so sweet and her innocence was more than I could I hope to have created. However, I could not help but notice she seemed, less than complete. 
 
 It started to show when she was first able to walk and say her first words, I thought it might have been a mental disability, but it proved to be quite different than that. While pregnant with her I felt more rested and relaxed than I ever had. My energy levels spiked, I needed less sleep, and I felt youthful. It was a phenomenon, an unprecedented one. 
 
 No one had ever described pregnancy like this before. Nobody in my life had seemed to have experienced such an increase in health. I had seen other women pregnant before. I had seen them without the desire, or will, to go about their daily activities. Pregnancy had taken a toll on their bodies. It was punishing and painful. For me, though, it was livening. It was pleasant and seemed to heal me. Pregnancy was the best drug I could find. 
 
 I thought it might have been just a fluke. That first pregnancy had to be a mental lapse on my part. The euphoria of having my first child kept me thinking that the experience was enthralling. The second pregnancy proved that notion wrong. This time I focused on the feeling more. I focused and was able to draw more life out of it. The high I got from my pregnancy was not only thrilling, it was so invigorating I was able to accomplish much more than I had in my 32 years before than. 
 
 Then Martha was born. She was premature by about 2 months. She was so small and feeble. The doctors were barely able to keep her alive. Her first 3 years of life were in and out of hospitals. I barely saw her. I don ’ t really know who she was. I felt an odd connection to her, though. Similar to the one I felt with Kelly, but more powerful. It wasn ’ t really a parental connection. It was separate from that. Martha was connected to me in a way I can ’ t quite describe. 
 
 My body had never felt better. I could swear that I did not age one day since Martha came. I didn ’ t look a day over 23. When Martha passed, she looked older than I ever had. She was only 3 years old. No one could figure out what was wrong with her. I ’ m pretty sure I know what happened to Martha. The night she passed I slipped into a heavy and deep sleep and a dream took me away. 
 
 I saw Martha, though she was healthy and alive. She was going about life and accomplishing so much. I watcher her grow up to become a beautiful young woman. I watched her change the world with her small print. She had children, my grandchildren, and they did so much for us as a family. Martha had this opportunity to live a full and fantastic life. I could see how many people she touched and how many loved her. 
 
 I awoke in a pool of tears. My pillow was drenched, my eyes were red, and I could not shake this undeniable feeling of guilt. My heart was weighed down, somehow I knew Martha couldn ’ t live because of me. Martha ’ s life had been taken from her and those years she would have lived, were given to me. I could not explain how I knew. I could just feel the life in me. I could feel the time I had stolen from my own daughter. 
 
 Kelly, my sweet loving Kelly, passed away when she was 10. Again I had a dream. Very much the same as when I dreamed of Martha. A heart wrenching tale of what Kelly ’ s life would ’ ve been. It had almost become too much. My soul was pained by the two lives that I had somehow taken. But how? How did I do that? How did I sap the life from their innocent lives? 
 
 When I was 42 years old, I looked not a day over 25. I felt the same. I had a hunger. My body yearned for more life. I could tell the years I had taken were starting to dwindle. I could tell my body was starting to age again. I could feel the cells in my organs dying and being regenerated. I could see a ticker in my mind, a countdown to my death. It ate at my mind. It sucked at my every thought. 
 
 I couldn ’ t focus. I couldn ’ t work. My body was filled with this pain of knowing my life was temporary. My life was running out. I was going to die. Be it in 5 years, 10 years, or even 50. It didn ’ t matter. I was so painfully aware of the fact that death would come. My body felt so heavy and I could feel it dying. I could feel it ever so slightly ticking away. My life-force drained, albeit slowly, but enough that I could not stand the pain. 
 
 My third pregnancy was over in 4 months. I miscarried. Again I had a dream. A nameless man was growing. I watched him go through life. I watched my son grow up to be a man. I knew how much I loved him. When I awoke I felt nothing. All I knew is that my timer had been lengthened. I knew my life was going to continue longer. I never could tell by how much, but I knew it was there. 
 
 Again invigorated by the life of my child I was able to do so much. My understanding of anything increased substantially. I could do anything I desired. I knew that I had the aptitude to do what I would feel I needed to make my life complete. I had been given a gift. The gift of immortality, at the price of the lives of those I was supposed to sacrifice for. Instead, they now sacrifice for me. 
 
 Only the feeling seems to be draining faster than it did with Kelly or Martha. I need more. I need to live. I need their lives. I can ’ t endure the pain of slowly dying. I can ’ t go through that again. I can feel it edging toward me. The methodical call for death. There is life out there for me to steal. I only need to find someone I can take it from.
