Dear Ovaries: Your Time Has Come to an End

home insemination Kit

Hey Ovaries,

It’s me, the Brain, reaching out to you on behalf of the entire body with some important news. First off, let’s give credit where it’s due—you’ve been phenomenal in your role of helping to create our little ones, Baby 1.0 and Baby 2.0. We’re grateful you kicked off this adventure by declaring, “It’s time for a baby!” That was a pivotal moment, and you were spot on.

Thanks to your efforts, we’ve managed to solve the baby-making dilemma in record time, which, if we were living in the 1800s and needed to birth a dozen children for our rutabaga farm, would have been a great success. But let’s not get too carried away celebrating just yet, because it’s time to face the music: your job is coming to an end.

After we welcome Baby 2.0 into the world, a formal notice will be issued to halt any and all baby-related activities from you. No more reminders of how adorable babies are, no more tears shed over random newborns in the park—it’s all over. The Nose agrees that aside from Baby 2.0, sniffing out baby scents will be strictly prohibited. If any traces of that irresistible baby aroma accidentally waft through, trust me, we’ll do everything we can to clear the air.

I also need to mention the toll this excitement has taken on The Uterus. She’s been on high alert for weeks now, and let’s just say her patience is wearing thin. An eviction notice is being drafted as we speak.

And just so you know, any arguments you present based on our current state of being heavily pregnant will fall on deaf ears—literally! The Ears are still recovering from the colicky cries of Baby 1.0 and are ready to evict you if Baby 2.0 turns out to be just as loud.

We appreciate all you’ve done, but we need you to understand how serious this is—serious as a heart attack! Speaking of which, you’ve almost given us a few scares, and any future surprises of that nature won’t be taken lightly. To put it plainly, we are done having babies.

On a lighter note, The Heart is still your biggest supporter and would have loved to add at least 13 more kids (and a few rescue animals) to our family. Luckily, I won the coin toss, so I’m putting a stop to further reproduction. Ding dong!

You’ll still be allowed to release eggs monthly until you reach your, shall we say, retirement phase. And since we can’t pinpoint which of you is responsible for our precious kids, you’ll both get a participation trophy as a token of our gratitude.

Now, unless we find ourselves facing an apocalypse or colonizing another planet, please don’t remind the body of your remaining eggs. If storage is a concern, consider evolving—less truly is more.

Thanks for your understanding and cooperation in this matter!

Best,
The Brain