2595. Glad tidings

Ella wasn’t keen to tell her parents she was expecting a baby. She was twenty-one and didn’t live at home, but her parents were very traditional and would be upset at her promiscuity.

Things were starting to show and Christmas was coming. She always spent Christmas with her parents. She began by telling her parents (on the phone) that Janus her boyfriend was coming for Christmas too. Of course, Ella’s mother was delighted! “I do hope he’s a nice boy, Ella.”

Tell her parents she must. Twice she dialled the phone and cut off things before anyone could answer. The next thing her mother phoned. “You’ve tried phoning twice and both times you’re not there. I hope you are alright.”

Ella broke down. “I’m pregnant. I’m expecting a baby.”

There was silence. Then the unexpected happened. “That’s wonderful, dear.” Mother and daughter chatted for a good half hour.

Christmas came. Ella’s father proposed a toast. “At first I was a bit grumpy, but now with Ella expecting this is probably as most like Christmas we’ll ever get! Happy Christmas one and all!”

2529. Heteropaternal superfecundation

Quite frankly Brooklyn, I’m amazed that you didn’t know the meaning of heteropaternal superfecundation. I thought everyone would be familiar with the term. I suppose if you live a protected life with little bearing on reality then you might have escaped knowing what such words mean. Goodness knows the extent of ignorance in society. I have no idea what they’re teaching in schools these days.

Let’s all say “heteropaternal superfecundation” three times to imprint it on your memory. One two three:

HETEROPATERNAL SUPERFECUNDATION!
HETEROPATERNAL SUPERFECUNDATION!
HETEROPATERNAL SUPERFECUNDATION!

Excellent! Now don’t be late tomorrow children. It’s a special day, with the drag queen performance in the library reserved strictly for the kindergarten.

1938. Water birth

Kathleen was expecting her first baby. She was both excited and full of trepidation. She had investigated every possible manner of giving birth. There were all sorts of theories – some to ease the pain of child birth; some to ensure the baby wasn’t disadvantaged in any way.

In the end, after much research, Kathleen decided upon an underwater birth. Yes! A water birth was best. Of course, it would take place at the local birthing centre under the direction of a qualified midwife.

The time arrived! There were no complications. It went as smoothly as possible. Kathleen was relieved and surprised. By the end of the day she took the baby home.

It’s always a big decision for a mermaid whether to give birth in water or on rocks.

1825. Naming the child

It was to be the first birthday of Robyn’s firstborn, a girl, and the first grandchild of Mario and Dora. Robyn organized a little party for the occasion.

Robyn couldn’t believe that a whole year had gone by since the birth of her daughter. She had spent ages, both before and after the birth, in selecting a name for her child. It had to be something different; something uncommon but pronounceable; something that wasn’t silly and sounded like a proper name. Robyn thought of Keats, but really that was more suited to a boy. She thought of foreign names; some of the African names were beautiful but no one would know how to pronounce them properly.

Of course, it could be said that Robyn had spent too much time in selecting a name for her daughter. “Just name the child!” Robyn’s mother had said.

Now, a year on at the party things still weren’t settled. Robyn made an announcement.

“I’m changing the baby’s name. When I named her originally I thought the name was beautiful, but not so any more. From now on she will be known as Veronica and not Corona.”

1812. It’s so rewarding

Gabrielle was forever having babies. She would disappear for a time and return with a baby; perhaps three or four times a year. She would then, with a great deal of pain and for quite a sturdy envelope of bank notes, hand the baby over to the adopting couple.

She had managed twenty to thirty babies over the five years since she started having them. Those adopting thought she was the real mother. Officially she worked for the Central American Children’s Foundation. This charitable body was responsible for getting babies with a “condition” – usually a heart condition – and taking the baby for a time to have heart treatment in a more sophisticated country.

“Of course,” said Gabrielle to the personable person next to her in the plane, “we don’t let the parents come. They don’t understand. The first thing they would do if they were in the hospital would be to pull the tubes out of their poor baby. That’s why I’m travelling alone on this plane with the baby but without the parents. When the baby is well we return it to its parents.”

Upon arrival in the more sophisticated country the baby would miraculously get better, and the adopting parents would gratefully hand Gabrielle a tidy sum. Thus far, Gabrielle had helped babies “get a better life” from seven different countries.

“It’s so rewarding being able to help people in this way,” said Gabrielle.

1766. Do not take this…

How am I to know? (Excuse me a minute while I get my reading glasses; these days I can hardly read a thing without having to squint). The bottle of pills says on the label “Do not take this if you are pregnant”. How am I meant to know if I just got pregnant or not?

Doctors these days seem to proscribe medicine willy-nilly. This prescription is from the doctor attached to the Retirement Village. The pills are for my arthritis. The doctor doesn’t seem to care. He never asks if I’m trying to get pregnant or not. Goodness knows my husband and I have been trying for a few years; without much success I might add. But you never know. These pill things that I’m not meant to take if I’m pregnant could do their dirty work just at the very time I am at last going to have a baby.

The baby certainly won’t be named after the doctor by way of gratitude I can assure you. I would change my doctor here and now to someone more sympathetic, but every doctor’s visit costs money and I’ve just paid the earth to the regular Retirement Village doctor. I can ill afford to go see another.

I’ve been so inspired by that 66 year old Italian grandmother who had a baby. An inspiration! If she can do it, so can I. It keeps me going. But I hope these pills I’ve been given don’t stop any possibility. We try frequently, my husband and me, at the Retirement Village. We’ve been here for two years now.

No! No! We’re not residents at the Retirement Village. We work here. What on earth made you think otherwise?

1373. So many choices

There’s more than one way to spell Wraymound, said Jihll, and I have named my newborn, Ykjhasdbvsdflafaskjlhbsadf – which is pronounced “Ramon”. It will distinguish her from all the other Ramons in the world, and could easily become the feminine form of the boy’s name.

I’m having a difficult time in deciding on a middle name. I was thinking of Lhsadfkjhksadfijhwuefkljhsadf. What do you think? Sound-wise it seems to go well with Ykjhasdbvsdflafaskjlhbsadf. Ykjhasdbvsdflafaskjlhbsadf Lhsadfkjhksadfijhwuefkljhsadf Yjhgljhgwqrfkjhgwqhgwer-Blkjxzclhjsfadkjj sounds pretty attractive to me. I’m gravitating towards it.

Now I just have to convince my partner. She wanted to name the baby “Betty”. If she wants a Betty she should make one of her own.

1147. Happy birthday darling

I can’t believe how the time has flown. Persia turns twelve today! It seems just like yesterday that she was born. Doctors said my wife couldn’t have babies. It was a grievous blow, and then Persia came into our lives. My wife has some Iranian connections, so that’s where the name Persia comes from.

Persia has been the joy of our lives. We always wanted a girl, and it was a girl we got. Coming home from work every weekday, it’s such a joy to have Persia greet me. I have never not felt the excitement. Tonight I brought home some special things to celebrate, and celebrate we shall. Also, my wife has had hidden away a little parcel as a birthday surprise. It’s a secret!

Happy Birthday, darling Persia!

As you can see, we really love our cat.

741. Welcome to our world

How wonderful! Angelka and Steve have just had their first baby. It’s a girl! They have named her after two aunts, Greta Robyn. Aunt Greta reckons she’s as poor as a church mouse, but it’s just to cover up the stashes of cash she seems to have; Aunt Robyn lives on a bed of bank notes. Of course, they didn’t name the baby Greta Robyn in the hope of getting a windfall from the aunts. They liked the combination of names and it is good to respect one’s elders in family matters. The two aunts are the only relatives that Angelka and Steve have.

And what’s this in the mail? It’s a parcel from Aunt Greta.

Dear Angelka and Steve and wee darling Greta Robyn,

Congratulations on the wonderful baby! And congratulations sweet Greta Robyn on being born! Enclosed are some baby booties I knitted. I hope they fit!!!! And they’re pink!
I can’t wait to see her.

Love
Aunt Greta.

And what’s this in the mail? It’s a letter from Aunt Robyn.

Dear Angelka and Steve,

I can’t let this occasion pass without saying I am horrified, literally horrified, that you have named your retarded baby after me. It is an insult. These days there are tests that can be done early in the pregnancy to determine wellness. I am utterly dismayed that you weren’t responsible enough to take this precaution.

Aunt Robyn

Listen the story being read HERE!

688. Priscilla makes a baby

Priscilla went to see the genetic physicist. She had already spent hours going through the glossy brochure selecting sperm donors for her proposed baby. It’s not as simple as it seems. In the good old days one would select a football player or a concert pianist or an astronomer to be the father. These days, with genetic engineering, one could select specific genes.

Priscilla had made notes: six foot three, no baldness in the genes, no hairy back, a deep bass voice.

She wanted a competent musician, but not one of those violinist people; nothing namby-pamby; more of a guitarist; they were always popular. And then, she didn’t mind what sport it was provided it wasn’t chess or curling or orienteering or something sissy like that. Rowing would be excellent, or even tennis or mountaineering.

Brain-wise, a good mix between science and the arts would be perfect, as long as one skill didn’t water down the other. A genius was best, but not necessarily a man for all seasons. Speaking of which, no gay genes please. For goodness sake! Oh dear! Goodness me! Her womb wasn’t a charitable organisation.

At last, with the selections made, the genetic physicist’s suggestions argued over, the modifications completed, Priscilla was implanted with one of her own eggs fertilised by… decisions, decisions… donor genes.

Today, her son’s all grown up. He looks remarkably like the genetic physicist and has his mother’s brains.