Location: St. Vincent & Grenadines

You were driving home in the dark on one glass-slippered heel, window sliced open and bathing in the snowliquor of the night air. We heard you singing, and couldn't bear to wake you.

22 June 2007

Today we had an ultrasound done and got to see some foetal porn. They sent us home with two wide-open crotch shots and a face silhouetted in silver static. Nose at the same slope as Genevieve's. The crashing, sucking thunder of a four-chambered heart, visible on the monitor, quivering like a jellyfish. All systems go.

A little girl.

Girl on film. Girl in my lap. Woman on the table. Female dog at home in the livingroom. House full of estrogen and me, still, with the one and only Y chromosome. Why? It's always been this way. I am most at ease in a room full of females, most myself. I must admit I wanted a son, as I did the first time around, only more so since this will be my last child. Sake of variety, and also my greater familiarity with the experience of being a guy. Would have been nice. But being the father of a little girl is pretty freaking awesome, so it's all good.

It's those dowries that are going to kill me. I'd better start investing in goats and oxen.


Blogger Das Person said...

We wait all that time, and look upon the miracle of life, such as it is, and where do we look, finally? Between the legs!


7:12 PM  
Anonymous Anh said...

Ha to the dowry joke. ha. ha.

11:40 PM  

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