Like A Virgin

Being pregnant has quickly turned me into a tightly wound bundle of nerves. I have developed an intense phobia of walking down stairs (which makes my crazy commute up and down subway platforms a joy); I am convinced that I am not getting enough protein and folic acid and my baby will certainly have permanent neurological damage; and there is the unspeakable crippling fear that the absence of nausea is the worst case (I can't even write it.) Now I can add sexual intercourse to my list and apparently there is a name for it - genophobia. M and I were doing what people do when they love each other very much. After it was not so much said, but done, I stood up and felt a rush of liquid falling down my leg. It was the much dreaded red blood. It was like I had popped my cherry. I had acquaintances back in my college days who referred to themselves as born-again virgins (mostly I think they did it to try to score with the catholic student center groupies), so for a moment I felt like I was touched for the very first time. Well actually I was terrified beyond reason, but later when it was clear that my baby was not in that unspeakable state, I giggled at the thought of being a 34 year old pregnant virgin. Next up is Papa Don't Preach because I'm keeping my baby.

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