irby's miracle baby.

Dear Irby and Ian,
I married “Andy” a year ago. He has three children from a prior marriage. He had a vasectomy eight years ago, but promised he’d have it reversed so we could have a child together. He didn’t get around to it, but I’m pregnant anyway. At first we felt it was our miracle baby. However, 15 weeks later, Andy is now “sure” the baby isn’t his. Things have gotten so bad that I moved out of our house. How do I convince him that I haven't cheated and to let me back in the house?

irby: i have to be straight up and admit right out of the gate that i don't know shit about how babies are made. oh, i know: penis vagina sperm egg. but that's about where the understanding of human conception begins and ends for me. when i think about making babies the first thing that always springs to mind is that opening scene from the movie "look who's talking." that's right, bruce willis narrates my mental image of fertilization. shut up, i'm dumb. i mean, i'm in my goddamned thirties and still don't have a grasp of how menstruation really works. the other day some bitches in my office were talking about uterine lining and i had no idea what the fuck they were talking about. is that the poop and pee babies eat when they're inside you? HOW IN THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW.

but i do know a little something about miracle babies. a year ago i thought a dead baby fell out of my goddamned ass. i sat down to pee and passed a giant clot of raspberry jelly from my ladyhole and, convinced i'd had a miscarriage despite the fact i hadn't had sex in over a year, i called my gynecologist immediately and asked him what i was supposed to do considering that i had until very recently been gestating the king of the jews. seriously, that little blob of condiment was an immaculate conception if i'd ever seen one, unless my vibrator is way more lifelike than i'd previously thought. the doctor sighed patiently as i poked the lion of the tribe of judah with the pencil we keep in the bathroom at work for dudes who like to do crossword puzzles while they shit. "i think it has an eye," i said, peering into the bowl and stabbing at the son of man's unformed fingers and toes. "can i put him back in? is there some way we could attach him to my egg factory? DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA HOW WEALTHY I WILL BE IF I CAN CARRY THE LAMB OF GOD TO TERM IN MY WOMB PLACE?!"

"that's not a baby," he said patiently as i fished around in a bowl of water that would surely turn to wine the minute i could rescue that little clump of eternal life. "get your hand out of the toilet and put a tampon in, stupid."

"you might want to watch your tone," i warned. "the father, the son, and the holy ghost are my baby daddy. you're about to fuck around and get yourself smited." that little jelly jesus kept slipping through my goddamned fingers, so i gave up and "borrowed" an emergency tampon from the box of them we keep hidden under the sink. then i had a fucking temper tantrum. the median age of the women in this building is 137 years old: WHO THE FUCK IS BUYING JUNIOR TAMPONS?! that shit is like trying to soak up your period with a fucking cocktail straw. or a q-tip. my gaping vagina laughed merrily as that shit disappeared inside my body, never to be heard from again. thank god for puppy training pads.

and i don't know shit about vasectomies, either. so i just looked on the old wikipedia, and how shameful and lonely and sad is it that my ladyparts got a giant tingle from the halved-penis diagram that accompanied the article? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? i am legit sexually aroused by a chopped-off penis side view?! i skimmed the article, and there's a picture of a shaved scrotum that's all bruised up after having undergone a vasectomy, and i'm ashamed to admit that i stared for, like, three seconds too long. okay, i looked at it for at least a minute. some hairless purple balls with a nasty-looking incision captivated me for a minute and a half. two minutes. i stopped even reading the goddamned article, i just couldn't tear my eyes away from that chicken-skinned scrotum. for, like, five whole mintues. even the drawing, which for some reason is labeled in spanish, got a second look. and maybe a third. i swear on my under-born baby jesus that the older i get the more i sexually regress. i have access to real porn! ten sleazy minutes on craigslist and i could have access to a real penis! but no, i'm sitting in the dark in the conference room at work looking at some textbook artist's rendering of a man's canal deferente and his escroto and trying not to think about putting them in my butt.

oh dear sweet toilet baby jesus, i am that asshole in your high school biology class who gets a boner when you get to prokaryotes and plant diversity. i'm in the back of the class trying not to break into a sweat when the teacher throws the "bee pollinating flowers" documentary on the old projector machine. fucking gross, man. excuse me teacher, can i get a hall pass to the bathroom, please? fap fap fap.

here's what the internet says about vasectomies getting non-cheating bitches pregnant as hell: "men with vasectomies have a very small (nearly zero) chance of making a woman pregnant." and i know what you're going to say: LOOK AT THAT NEARLY. and i hear you, peach, but i know a lot of people. and very few of them are exceptions to the rule. and i don't know andy, but he seems like a sensible dude what with the chopping up his vas deferens and all, and i bet he did a lot of research and shit before making a decision this big. or, um, small? anyway, DUDES ARE SO SENSITIVE ABOUT THEIR FUCKING DICKS. way more sensitive than i ever get about my national geographic tits or stubbled labial folds. if you don't fall to your knees and praise that jiggly sack of meat like the second coming of a certain bearded hippie we'll refer to as THE SON OF THE LIVING GOD it hurts every single one of their feelings. i cannot even imagine one running to the penis doctor to have his shit snipped without first consulting a panel of experts. according to the genius who edited this wikipedia entry, SOME MEN LOSE THEIR SEX DRIVE. these motherfuckers would rather live without eyes, trust.

so your ass got caught being a huge, lactating dirtbag, and that's cool. i just hope, for your sake, that your baby daddy is white. or whatever andy is, so you can keep up this ruse. (ain't no black dudes calling themselves "andy," but that's another topic for another time.) you can keep trying to game this dude, i guess, or you can come clean about the time your peapod delivery came and you were so depressed because andy had been acting distant and you were having really bad pms and your forehead acne came back and your mom called to yell at you and that delivery man looked SO good and SO strong in his crisp green uniform unloading the boxes of imitation cheerios you didn't order but were now stuck with because they'd run out of the real ones at the warehouse into your apartment that you were overcome by lust and tackled him to the ground and made love on top of a bag of cat litter and three 28-oz cans of crushed tomatoes and now you're pregnant and you have no idea whether or not that little asshole is going to slide out of you wearing a snug green polo shirt and a ball cap with a bunch of peas on it.

better yet, what you should've done was run into the room screaming, "call the three wise men, my belly is full of the blood of them lamb!" while doing the sign of the cross. it might also help if you could levitate or some shit. you better teach that kid to walk on water, too.