Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Conception

Allow me to be clear about one thing.  There is nothing about pregnancy, pregnant women, the gestation and birthing process – that does not horrify and/or disgust me, basically from the point of conception until you have a child of age 3 or 4.  I’ll even back that up to the point of ejaculation, because while I understand it as the inevitable end to a process that I otherwise take no issue with and have even been known to enjoy, I’m not exactly in love with sperm.  Raise your hand if you love sperm.  Anybody?  Huh.
Sara has known about her pregnancy since about day 5, as she rather freakishly assumed she was knocked up and took a pregnancy test after not enjoying her sushi quite so much as usual one day, rather than considering that sushi from the food court at the mall may not be the tastiest or the freshest.  Knowing my aversion to all things related to embryos, she treated me to the information almost immediately, simultaneously announcing that it would hurt her feelings enormously should I contrive to avoid her for the next 9 months.  Besides, she suggested, she was relying on me to do the drinking for two – a concept I’ve taken quite literally.  I’m committed to be there for Sara through every stage of her pregnancy, drinking.  The day of the delivery I expect to be there for her in the waiting room, perhaps dulling my senses to my discomfort with the situation by suckling vodka-soda from an Evian bottle, and nursing a good strong buzz.
I held off on starting this out of respect for the volatile uncertainty of the first trimester, so here we are at week 13.  It would be too time consuming to recap all of the events of the last 13 weeks, so I’ll merely divulge the most important development:  twins.  Yes, twins.  As I was living with them on the fateful night that Chris filled Sara up with his demon seed, I feel I bear some culpability for this predicament.  The raw sexual energy I can’t help but exude clearly resulted in an increase of fertility in the household.  Sorry guys.
So there it is, twins.  And apparently, wild berry coolers, as I have somewhat unwisely enlisted Sara to assign me weekly liquor consumption requirements.

1 comment:

  1. Shouldn't this really be drinking 3? I guess I always assumed the drinking for two referred to helping out the unborn spawn. You know, set an example for them to follow when they see a picture of you passed out on the delivery room floor.

    Either way, I don't see how drinking for 3 could hurt...