So much reviews! Wow, you guys! Thank you so much! They got me so inspired, that I already finished the next chap!

To the question if you really can get pregnant during pregnancy, yes you can, it's just really rare. - Luckily

And no I'm not gonna stop, after Summer gave birth. It's just that the story will end there.

I've got a sequel in process of planning.

I think we all know it now: I don't own anything.

Sixth month

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

What if I realize two months after giving birth that I don't wanna be a Mommy? What if I drown in a Bermuda-triangle of diapers, burbs and baby-bottles?

Why didn't I think about that before? Is there some kind of baby exchange-guarantee?

"This one cries to much, I'd like a model that sleeps 24/7."

You can test every big purchase you buy. You get test drives if you wanna buy a car, you even move together on trial. And if you don't like the music your partner listens to, you say goodbye and hit on somebody in the next music store. But a baby is for a lifetime. More than a lifetime. It's worse than a marriage. Who believes in eternal fidelity these days? It's said so easy at the altar and five you years later you tell somebody else the same.

Everything is just a stage in life. But how's that supposed to work with a child?

"That's Perry, my period-of-life-son."

Oh my god! That's the idea! I so have to start my own business.

You wanna know if you can be a good mother? Test it. Satisfaction or baby back.

But you can't do that with real babies... maybe dolls or robots...

Coop brought me back on the carpet. We've already got that... Baby dolls that cry, pee and need to be feed. It's supposed to get teenagers to use contraception. Damn!

"Katie."

"Like Katie Holmes? That women can nothing but hold still during intercourse. And you wanna name my daughter that? No. No way."

My daughter. Hear. Hear. But he's right. That woman is terrible.

"Lilly."

"Er..."

"Marget."

"Marget Roberts-Cohen. What? Do you want to torture her?"

"Okay. Okay... Adrienne... I definitely like Adrienne."

"Mary."

"Sofie."

"Paula."

"Kathryn."

"Hope."

"Fear."

"Helena."

"What if she's ugly?"

"Jenny."

"That's what the dog of the neighbors is called. Rose."

"Over my dead body."

If we keep going like this I may fulfill Cohen's wish and just kill him.

Our little girl won't have a name till she's twenty one. Or her names gonna be Anne-Marie-Katie-Jessica-Kathryn-Isabel-Tanya-Sofie-Sarah Cohen-Roberts. And if she's old enough she just picks out a name herself.

She'll probably spend a lot of time with her shrink, too.

"Look at that."

Cohen shows me a magazine cover. There's a baby with very long hair. It's probably a wig or maybe extensions but he has just fallen in love. Hopefully he'll take a bald baby too.

Since he got me pregnant Cohen's john-lecture did get a lot more intellectual. In the past all he read were comic-books.

It's ten o'clock at night and I'm lying in my bed. In the past this were the time were I styled myself up to be at the hottest party at midnight.

I'm so tired these days, the only parties I could visit are brunch-parties. And those shouldn't start before noon.

Cohen looks dreamy at a baby-picture.

"In half a year we will have a little brayer like that ourself."

"Not in a half a year. We'll have it in at least seventeen weeks and four days. Maybe we should start to think about a room and pacifier and stuff..."

Cohen looks at me in shock.

Another reason why men don't have babies. They would just miss the due day by oversleeping. I on the other practically count the hours.

Pregnancy isn't that great. It's not just pure amusement. Quite the opposite. It's hard work!

"We'll go to Pottery Barn next week. I promise."

Yeah... he promises that since over a year now. We wanted to buy a new couch for the living room.

"Lana?"

"What?"

"We gotta decide for a name. This little girl is almost there..."

"You're so right sweetie. So right."

With those word I turn off the lights...

"Tara... that sounds kind of majestic don't you think..."

Snore...

I could rent a room at my doctors office. I'm here all four weeks. And I'm lucky that I didn't get some complications...

Besides that the little Honey down there arises and presses against my stomach. That gives me bad brash. And after every going upstairs I breathe so noisily you could think I just won the New York Marathon.

But for my little Honey I take all those minor ailments. I'm just thankful for being spared of hemorrhoids and varices, which are not so rare during pregnancies.

But I won't complain. There are a lot of women who have to spend their entire pregnancy in bed. I guess they never thought that get laid once maybe means you have to lie forever.

Everything okay. The baby is fine.

I'm not so much. I wear yellow latex-gloves. The kind you use for washing-up. Only that I haven't turned into the super-housewife... No, I try to put on flesh-colored elastic stockings. I wouldn't get them on without the gloves, my doctor told me. And she's right.

I can't remember a moment in my life I felt less sexy then now. For being on the safe side I locked the bathroom. Every relationship needs its little secrets.

My doctor prescribed me those stockings. Because the threat of a thromboses. Cos Cohen in me fly into vacation. Hawaii. Two weeks. Last chance.

In a few weeks no airplane takes me with it. Cos what captain wants to stopover because a women gets into labor.

I wanted to do a adventure vacation in Uganda. But suddenly Cohen was a little bit worried (usually he told me that pregnancy is a total natural condition...)

I also suggested back paging through Asia or touring through Australia with the car...

Well Hawaii is nice too.

Fifteen big belly's. Unbelievable it's like all the pregnant women of California go to vacation in Hawaii... And all won't just one thing. Enjoy the last few weeks without a braying package... A second honeymoon. Alone with Cohen. Sun. Beach. And Sex.

I'm so excited.

I'm so bored.

I'm feeling like a beached whale. I lie here all day and just change my position from time to time.

Cohen does sport (yes that's right Seth Cohen is doing sports!). I tried to keep up with him but after one serve and falling out of the sailing boat I decided that the way from our room to the restaurant or the beach is just enough...

No sign of romantic or honeymoon. I'm tired and I got brash. 24/7.

But at least Cohen is fine. He met this super thin and super tall chick from New York during sailing.

Now they spend all day together.

"We're going for beach volleyball!" She shouts at me.

"Come with us!" Cohen invites me.

"No thank you! I've got my very own volleyball here!" I'm pointing at my belly. "I just finish reading my book! ... Have fun!"

I don't think they even heard the "Have fun!".

Of course I could go with them. But I'm afraid to fall or the ball hitting my belly. And watching makes me jealous of all the models in their tight shorts and tops.

I'm sighting and go on with my reading. "Every baby can learn how to sleep".

I feel already banned.

Burp instead of beach volleyball.

Buggy instead of BMW.

Baby bottles instead of Cocktails.

If I think about how much fun Cohen has right now I keep thinking if it wasn't unfair to not ask him if he wants a baby at all.

But men just don't have a biological clock while women have this time bomb inside...

Maybe he isn't ready to replace the non-stop party with non-stop stress.

Maybe he would go better with a wife that is younger then me.

Maybe I shouldn't base our future on a lie.

Maybe I stop thinking bullshit and get my ass into the pool.

Maybe Summer, maybe.

I'm back at home. The last night at the hotel was pretty nice. There are a few specific position I still can do, even if I don't move so well anymore. I bet those bitch from New York isn't able to do those!

This guy from Vogue called today. They want to do a second interview in about three to five weeks. Looks like I'm short list.

That's great! All I need now is a Summer-double without a blown up stomach.

Maybe I just have to eat more. If I put on 40 pounds nobody's is going to notice my belly. But I guess they'd rather hire a mother-to-be than a fat woman. It's Vogueafter all.

I also could put on a chador and tell them I convert to Islam... I just gotta think of something.

They, presumable, won't believe me if I tell them I swallowed a basketball.

It's so typical. Men don't have to chose between career and family. For women it's the most important question, right after "What shall I wear today?".

I don't know one single man who ever had to worry about getting his job back after his wife gave birth. They also don't have do worry how to get there weight back.

Let's face it. If Cohen had a job interview and would tell those people, his wife is seven months pregnant, everybody would be delighted. A man who works hard to support his family. Applause!

Why can't we just lay eggs? Even the egg of a ostrich isn't as big as a whole baby.

That would be very practical wouldn't it? You just sit on it while driving or watching TV. And for traveling there would be a heatable suitcase.

And if the baby comes out after nine months it would just get up and grab something out of the fridge.

But what's reality. Nine months pregnant and after that ninety years of: "Mom do..., Mom pay..., Mom make..."

Well I asked for it!

I get some lukewarm gel onto my stomach. We are at Doppler-ultrasound today.

Cohen sits next to me and holds my hand. We both wanna watch baby.

But first of all we wanna now if everything is okay with Victoria (Cohen's favorite) or rather Lilly (my favorite - it's nicer, isn't it?).

And there she is. With her thumb in her mouth. Almost waving at us. Hi mommy. Hi daddy.

The doctor hits a few buttons and we look right into her brain. Two kidneys. A liver. An empty bladder. The doc tells us she just peed. Into the amniotic fluid. You could also say into me. Great. Now I'm a toilet, too. I better don't finish that thought...

"Do you know the gender?"

Cohen nods and I open my mouth: "It's a female."

The doctor looks at me for one second before falling into laughter.

"A female!"

Now what's funny about that? I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the ultrasound while Cohen and the doctor crack stupid women jokes over my belly.

Typical male.

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