Birthing a 10-pound healthy boy didn’t take much thought before the internet: take the recommended vitamins, vomit, gain 40 pounds and spend 11 hours gasping for breath while strangers poke around my private parts. Easy-peasy. Seven months into another pregnancy the doctor showed concern after an ultrasound, and I found myself in the hospital on complete bedrest. 3 days after admission - and more concern - I had a 2-pound 4-ounce child cut from my not-so-protective uterus. The entity staring out from the incubator forced the question: why is this a human being while those children still in utero at the exact stage of development not considered human? In horror I recalled if still inside the mother such children could legally be killed with a needle to the heart, then dismembered for easier removal. My son blinked at me and I became prolife. Permanently. Without a flicker of doubt.
Our two-pound wonder who, we were warned, would not have the abilities of an average child; it would be best to lower our expectations.
Today: Calm yourself ladies, this Ph.D. candidate in Electromagnetic Metamaterials, world traveler, music lover, Catan expert and gourmet cook is married.
Did I mention he ordered Caesar’s Commentaries in the original Latin to read in his spare time? I am truly awed.