After five daughters, we made the executive decision to shut the factory down. We laid off the workers. Now, we only use the equipment for recreational use.
We never had any trouble getting pregnant. Husband’s swimmer’s love my eggs – especially his female swimmers.
Husband is convinced that my insides kill off his boy swimmers. I prefer to think that his female swimmers are members of an elite group of sperm. Like military special forces. So exceptional that the males just do not stand a chance.
This is probably how our baby production went down:
My V-Jay was playing Beyonce’s Run The World (Girls) full blast on repeat. The female sperm were so pumped up that the male sperm got scared and swam down instead of up. Husband’s highly motivated girl sperm were on a mission to get the job done and they succeeded five times.
I do not look too far into the future for my own sanity. Hormones, dating, weddings, ahhhhh! Best to focus on the here and now. I will go nuts and probably drive my husband away if I worry about all that is to come.
There is a small part of me that believes that five daughters is God’s test for me. I’ve accepted the challenge. If I persevere and succeed, I can basically do whatever I want and still get into heaven.
I’ll show up at the pearly gates and say my name. Saint Peter will look in his book, read my bio and proclaim, “Why Yes. Charlotte McMullen. Bore and raised five daughters. Throat punched 25 people. No problem. Come on in.”
Hopefully, throat punching 25 people is the worst that I ever do. With my personality and the five daughters, I might need anger management.