Brett Ortler’s note to his unborn baby.
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LANDLORD(S): Your Mother. (Your Mother asked me to write this on her behalf. I agreed, but only under the condition that I am henceforth exclusively referred to by all parties as Dad, ESQUIRE.)
City, State, Zip: Wherever your mother is; usually somewhere in the Midwest
Phone: Your mother’s womb has no phone, but it does have an umbilical cord that could theoretically function as one. Anyway, given that fetuses can be startled by loud noises, we know you’ve heard your mother’s repeated requests that you enter the world. She does not appreciate being ignored.
TENANT: Violet, the Baby
The sheriff (Dad, ESQUIRE, but wearing a sheriff’s hat) is scheduled to evict you on February 9, 2015, your due date.
The eviction will take place on the date named above unless you either:
- Move out of the property and return control of it (your mother’s uterus region, in addition to secondary aspects of the property: her hormones, her bladder, her personality etc.)
- Pay and Stay. The tenant has the right to pay the amount ordered by the Court (your mother).
Before we get to that, your Mother has one immediate request. That small, balloon-shaped thing you keep mashing your fists (or feet?) against? That is not an emergency exit, nor is it any sort of food dispenser. That’s your mother’s bladder.
Also, we’re hoping that once you’re out and about, you are a little less…violent. Your mother and I already have several nicknames for you—the UltraViolet™ is our current favorite—but the other day I made a “bit of the Ultraviolent” reference and ever since you have been, as your mother put it, “punching the hell out of my ribs.” By all accounts, it’s like a dojo in there, and we fully expect that when you are born you’ll certify for at least a green belt in Judo and/or Juijitsu. Lest you think I’m exaggerating, the other night your mom was sitting on the coach just staring at her stomach as you moved. To the uninformed, it might seem a peaceful, even idyllic scene. Even greeting card material, “Mother-daughter bonding” or something to that effect.
But every so often the gentle wave-like motions are punctuated by a sudden flurry of punches or kicks, like when you mash the controls enough in Mortal Kombat III and inadvertently activate one of the special moves. This is instantly followed by grimaces and sighing from your mother. And I’m not exaggerating here; just last night, I was sitting next to your mother, and she said, “Come here, she’s punching,” and sure enough, I literally saw your fist punch out quickly, in a jab that would have made Sonny Liston proud. (This seems an appropriate time to mention that kidney punches are considered bad form in a normal fight, and that’s especially true when you live inside someone’s abdomen and kidneys are essentially your next-door neighbors.)
So, as you can surmise, the Court would really like to go through with the eviction, so if you decide to stay, we hereby demand that you immediately turn over enough money to cover the mortgage for the last nine months. (Note: We demand U.S. tender or hard currency. Placentas, umbilical cords and/or amniotic fluid will NOT be accepted in lieu of payment because that would be very gross.)
Addendum: As an additional incentive for you to leave the premises, we will actually pay you to come into the world. We have already prepared (1) a place for you to stay, and your accommodations have (2) toys, (3) many adorable outfits (we hope you like purple!), and (4) a big brother, and we have also notified our friends and family about your imminent arrival, so you already have your own entourage.
Warning: Once the sheriff begins the eviction, the tenant does not have any right to re-enter the property or re-claim any property. Please pay special attention to that last part. You may not, however much you liked the womb, attempt to re-enter the “property.” That would undoubtedly scar the entire family for life.
Addendum: We will most certainly dispose of any abandoned property, because anyone who wants to keep a placenta hanging around (literally) is more than a bit off. We certainly promise not to deposit it in the street, where people would probably mistake it for some sort of deceased jellyfish.
AFFIDAVIT OF POSTING: I hereby certify that I posted a completed copy of the above notice on the premises (your Mother’s stomach) described above on 2/5/2015.
Signed: Dad, Esquire Signature: Date:2/5/15
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Photo credit: meg hourihan/flickr