“Typical gestation for this creature is ten years.” A long tongue flicked out and licked the doctor’s eye as she spoke.

I sat on the examination table, miserable. “This has been going on that long.”

The third eye on the doctor’s head looked at the wall while the other two looked shocked. “We need to schedule a cesarean immediately.” She consulted the computer and frowned. “I can get you in next Monday.”

I closed my eyes, turning my thoughts inward. My hand went to my still flat belly. No movement greeted my touch. “Are you sure?” I whispered

“The ultra-sound showed the creature plainly,” the doctor placed a webbed hand on my shoulder and smiled. “She’s ready to come out.”

Slowly, I nodded.
***

Back home, I glared at my husband. “I go in next Monday.”

His innocent blue eyes looked surprised. “Did they figure out what was wrong?”

“Yeah,” I went into the kitchen to make dinner. “It’s a girl.”

It was a moment before that registered with him. “What’s a girl?” he stepped up behind me. I felt his arms come around me, pull me close. He kissed my neck. “I meant did they find the problem with your bleeding?”

I nodded, putting my head back against his chest. What could I say? We were human beings living among monsters. How could I be pregnant with anything other than a human? I listened a moment to our two children playing in the other room. I placed his hands on my belly. “The problem is a girl.”

He spun me around, joy on his face. “We’re pregnant?”

I fell against him, tears finally falling, dampening his shirt.

“When are we due?”

I mumbled into his shirt. “Next Monday.”

His hands stopped rubbing my back, and the silence I heard spoke more than any words he could have said.
***

Monday came and he took me to the hospital. It still didn’t feel right. The bleeding had started again, and I felt gross. I needed to change my pad or I would have to change my clothes soon. He patted my knee.

I felt awful, like he was judging me. “These creatures spontaneously appear,” I couldn’t look at him. “The doctor said one of them wouldn’t be attracted to me enough to want me. Apparently, I wouldn’t be attracted to one enough to have an affair, either.” I sighed. There, it was out. He had been wondering it. I had simply saved him the trouble of mentioning it. “I named her Phoebe,” I spared him a glanced as I got out of the car.

“You named her?” his face screwed up in confusion as he got out of the car. “Were you planning on keeping it?”

I glared at him again, clenching my teeth in frustration. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be the right mother.”

I felt the sigh of relief rather than heard it as I turned and entered the hospital.
***

Pre-op was quick. I was admitted by a sleepy green man with seven fingers on each hand, and escorted up to surgery by a fuzzy purple nurse who was no taller than my waist. They tried to make pleasant conversation but I was miserable as I walked away from my husband. He sat in the waiting area watching me go, anxiety obvious on his face.

I sat in the preparation room in my gown as the almost human nurse took my vital signs. “How did this happen?” I felt like I might cry.

She smiled, showing sharp yellow teeth, patting my shoulder. “No one really knows.” I saw her forked tongue flick as she spoke. “They don’t procreate with their own. I see a lot of women come through here with this condition.” She didn’t refer to it as a pregnancy. Finished entering my vital signs into the computer, she put her hand on my knee. “Statics say about eighty percent of women have one at some point.”

“What sort of creature is it?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. “No one will tell me,” my voice dropped to a near whisper.

The nurse looked sympathetic. “They are an amoeboid race, blobs that live in the darkness beneath the streets. They have complex blob like bodies, but that’s all we really know. They don’t usually come in for health care.” She smiled her ghastly smile again and looked out the curtain. “The patient is ready.”

A burly man at least seven feet tall came lumbering into the room. He sat on the stool vacated by the nurse and turned his yellow eyes on me. “My name is Narglesnort, I’ll be your anesthesiologist today.”

Narglesnort explained that for a cesarean, I would be semi-conscious, given a spinal anesthetic. He added that I would most likely not want to see the creature. He did not refer to it as a baby, and I wondered what was so terrible about these beings.

He led me down the hallway toward the delivery room, a converted operating room with the large round lights hovering over the central bed. My doctor stood there, gowned and masked, but I could tell she was smiling at me. Narglesnort helped me get up on the bed, and began to administer the anesthetic.

No sooner had I felt the pinpricks of injection, numbness spread from my waist down. I was not sleepy. Lying back on the bed, I watched the doctor put a divider sheet over me. I couldn’t see what she was doing. It was somewhat unnerving to hear the sound of the scalpel as she began.

I let my eyelids droop, listening for the sounds of squelching. I decided a blob wouldn’t cry. No sounds came though, and when I opened my eyes, the doctor was smiling at me. I saw that I was in the recovery room.

“How did it go?” I whispered, still groggy.

“Just perfect,” she still smiled.

“Where is Phoebe?” For a moment, I worried she would tell me somewhere nearby.

Instead, the smile faltered for a moment, but she blinked and the smile was back. “You named her?”

I nodded, “Even if I can’t mother her, I still feel like her mother.”

The doctor seemed to consider this. “One of her kind is on staff here, and when we deliver one, he takes the newborn down to one of their surrogate mothers. She will be safe.”

I had a sudden urge to see her, wondering if it were really impossible. “Will I ever get to meet her?”

The doctor just patted my arm. “You concentrate on recovering. Once you go home, you’ll have about a month down ahead of you.” Turning, she walked away.

The fuzzy purple nurse came back to monitor my progress. Though after a moment of chatter, I realized it wasn’t the same fuzzy purple nurse. She took my vitals, monitored my reactions to the anesthetic as it wore off, and promised me supper when I got to my room.
***

There was no supper when I got to my room. I had to wait for breakfast the next day. The staff were all so nice, but no one would tell me if I would ever get to meet Phoebe. Several of them were appalled that I had named the creature, simply referring to her as my ‘fibroid’. I gave up talking to them and that evening, my husband came to take me home.

Walking was difficult for about a week, but I healed quickly. Humans have a tendency to bounce back well. My husband never spoke of Phoebe to me. I liked to believe he knew I was still sesitive to her.

I often wonder how she is, if I’ll ever meet her. Would she like to know her mother? She’s the third born in our little family and her siblings don’t even know who she is. I still consider her my daughter, even if she is a monster.

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