Me and Malkhos's Folly
Jul. 27th, 2010 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
porphyryA few weeks ago, a co-worker of mine got married. He's only twenty-five, and his new bride twenty-three, and she's already wanting children. I harped against it all spring.
"Don't do it, Nathan," I counseled him. "Have some 'us' time first. Once you have kids, any time you two will have to yourselves is reduced to almost nothing."
So God got even with me. He made me pregnant instead.
Ah, divine retribution. Even the atheists I work with agreed. It's just too funny. When I told Nathan, the look of shock on his face is almost worth my being pregnant again. After all, I am forty-three. No one expected it, least of all me.
See the little bugger below:
The larger blob is his or her head. The smaller blob is his or her body. The white part, in real life, is flickering. That's his or her heart, which today was beating at 168 beats per minute. The baby measured exactly nine weeks and four days, right on target.
"Your chances of miscarriage," Dr. Dalla Riva said, "Just fell dramatically."
When I missed my period in June, I didn't worry too much about it. I thought it was the beginnings of menopause. A week or so after that, I started feeling nauseated all the time, and then I knew. Malkhos made me take a home test anyway, and it must of been pretty funny to see the two of us, standing there like two stupid fifteen-year-olds, staring at the two pink lines, wondering how the hell this could have happened.
My doctor, even, was surprised.
"I have women come in here at your age and can't do this with fertility assistance," he said.
"What were the chances?" I asked.
"One to three percent," he said.
Now why can't I, say, win the lottery instead if I'm so lucky? Jeez. It's especially stunning since it's hard for Malkhos and I to find time alone more than three times a year.
But I'm getting used to the idea, I suppose. I just hope Malkhos isn't too rusty with his expert swaddling skills.
"Don't do it, Nathan," I counseled him. "Have some 'us' time first. Once you have kids, any time you two will have to yourselves is reduced to almost nothing."
So God got even with me. He made me pregnant instead.
Ah, divine retribution. Even the atheists I work with agreed. It's just too funny. When I told Nathan, the look of shock on his face is almost worth my being pregnant again. After all, I am forty-three. No one expected it, least of all me.
See the little bugger below:
The larger blob is his or her head. The smaller blob is his or her body. The white part, in real life, is flickering. That's his or her heart, which today was beating at 168 beats per minute. The baby measured exactly nine weeks and four days, right on target.
"Your chances of miscarriage," Dr. Dalla Riva said, "Just fell dramatically."
When I missed my period in June, I didn't worry too much about it. I thought it was the beginnings of menopause. A week or so after that, I started feeling nauseated all the time, and then I knew. Malkhos made me take a home test anyway, and it must of been pretty funny to see the two of us, standing there like two stupid fifteen-year-olds, staring at the two pink lines, wondering how the hell this could have happened.
My doctor, even, was surprised.
"I have women come in here at your age and can't do this with fertility assistance," he said.
"What were the chances?" I asked.
"One to three percent," he said.
Now why can't I, say, win the lottery instead if I'm so lucky? Jeez. It's especially stunning since it's hard for Malkhos and I to find time alone more than three times a year.
But I'm getting used to the idea, I suppose. I just hope Malkhos isn't too rusty with his expert swaddling skills.
