“Yes?” I finally said, after adhering to my 3 call rule. A rule which allows me to ignore my child until they’ve called me at least 3 times, thus insuring that they’re actually vested in whatever it is they’re demanding in the moment.
Which of your ovaries did I come from?!” Izzy asked.
“I have no idea. There’s no way to tell.”
“YES! There is!”
“No, there isn’t.”
“There is! They tell you.” she said with the authority only a teenager can wield. Obviously, I’m the one who’s clueless about pregnancy and childbirth.
“No, honey. They don’t.”
YES! They DO! My science teacher told me.
Izzy’s science teacher is a beautiful young woman who I vaguely recall is recently pregnant with her first child. So as far as I’m concerned, she knows nothing. Even if she does teach science.
“There’s no way they can tell which ovary an egg came from without tracking it over time. Each month it’s a different ovary. I think they’d have to be watching you every single month over a long period of time to have an idea which side spit out which egg every month.
“They don’t. It’s something new.”
So I said “Well back in the olden days when I had you, despite going to and from my local medicine woman’s log cabin in a horse-drawn covered wagon every few weeks or so, they couldn’t tell which ovary released the egg a baby came from. In fact, we were lucky if they could tell we were pregnant at all. So sorry, we will never know.”
“That’s sad.” Izzy said. Walking away and sounding like she just found out she’ll never get to know her birth parents. I guess the fact that regardless of which ovary she came from – oh, or the fact it was my ovary, and my egg – that didn’t make up for the fact she would never know if her origin was the left ovary or the right ovary. Sigh.
“Sorry, honey. I guess you’ll have to accept that fact you’re an orphan.”
Then she squawked at me. Not sure what that meant.
Looks like the cold hard fact is that Izzy will have to go through life never knowing which if she’s the spawn of my left ovary or my right ovary. Maybe she’ll feel short changed in life because of it. Or maybe the love she has received from the owner of the ovaries and uterus that produced her will be enough to assuage her deep disappointment.
I hope so.
Or, I could just tell her she’s adopted.