FIC--Mr. and Mrs. Fertile
Feb. 29th, 2008 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficsbydeenasTitle: Mr. and Mrs. Fertile
Rating: Teen (use of the f-word and shit)
Words: 1200
Pairing: Harry and Ginny
Summary: Ginny speaks about becoming a mother.
Author Note: This popped into my head two days ago and I couldn't exorcise it until it was written.
I'm not complaining, really. I'm just pointing out a few things.
I love being a mother. I love my children.
I love my husband. I love being his wife.
But most of all, I love having sex with that man. Really, it's possibly the closest thing to heaven this side of…heaven.
And that's what leads me to my problem.
We're fertile. Too fertile for my taste. And randy. Well, that goes without saying.
I mean, before we were married, we used every means of birth control available to us, Muggle and magical, simply because the idea of getting pregnant before we were married scared the shit out of us. Okay, fine. My mother's reaction scared the shit out of us. However, once those rings were slipped onto our fingers, it was as if something turned off inside both of us and we became careless.
And that's exactly what happened one month and twenty-five days after we got married; I got pregnant with James.
Harry was thrilled. I was thrilled and my mother became a nervous wreck. She wouldn't go to my remaining Quidditch matches even after the team doctor assured her several thousand times that I would be fine. In a way, it was a good thing that there were only four regular season matches left. I ballooned the day after my last match.
James Sirius Potter was born ten months, eighteen days, seventeen hours, ten minutes and forty-one seconds into my marriage.
Which leads me to…
Albus.
I mentioned the fact that Harry and I were randy, as well as fertile, right?
Well…you know that infamous six week check-up witches get after having a baby?
Apparently, not only was it a signal to my husband that we could fuck each other's brains out again during the rare times our son was not attached to my breast but it was an alarm that went off inside his balls and my ovaries.
Albus was conceived three months and twenty-eight days after his brother was born.
At this point, I was angry and repulsed by the mere thought of my husband making love to me. I was throwing up, had heartburn to beat the band and suffered from the most excruciating headaches I have ever imagined. I was the very definition of a witch, if you know what I mean.
But it was all worth it when that little boy with a complete head full of black, black hair was placed on my stomach.
This time, I was absolutely adamant with Harry that we would not get pregnant again for another ten years. Having two boys twelve and a half months apart was ridiculous. I was not going to add a third.
Now, Ron and Hermione got married three years before we did, simply because Hermione didn’t want to get caught straddling Ron anymore by Mum. She has an uncanny knack for detecting pre-marital sex under her roof. It wouldn't have been an issue if Ron wouldn't have been so cheap and not got a flat right away rather than living at The Burrow.
About a year before Harry and I got married, they began trying to having a baby. When I got pregnant so quickly, Hermione couldn’t even look at me for three months. Ron, ironically, had one hand or another on my belly every time that he saw me and asked me questions. That only served to make Hermione angrier. She avoided me and shot me deadly looks until the day I went into labour. Rather than stay outside with Ron and the rest of my family, she stayed by my side, apologizing for her behaviour and helped Harry coach me through the delivery. She was the second person to hold James.
And as it would happen, two months after James was born, Hermione got pregnant, and well, you know about me.
So, Rose was born a month before Al.
Now, back to Harry and I.
Harry agreed that we really needed some time to be parents…hell, we needed time to be a married couple. So we went back to our dating days and practised the kind of birth control we did before we were married. It took a lot of the spontaneity out of our sex life, but I was bound and determined not to have a third child in nappies.
Unfortunately, Mother Nature is a cruel bitch. Despite our best efforts not to get pregnant, five months after Al came along, I found myself knocked up once again by the Boy Who Lived to Reproduce. Needless to say, Harry slept on the couch for a week and even when he was permitted to enter my bed, I was in no mood to do anything but sleep.
I know it wasn't his fault, nor was it mine. In fact, after I got pregnant the third time, my Healer became rather concerned about us. She ordered tests on Harry and poked him in all the embarrassing places. I was also subjected to the bloody tests and after three hours of waiting for the lab results, Harry and I found out that we are both one of the .02% of the Wizarding population for which common birth control potions are ineffective.
Unfortunately, four months into that pregnancy, I lost the baby. Up until then, I had always taken it for granted that once I got pregnant, the baby would follow. It was devastating, especially after having two beautiful boys. Harry was wonderful, said we could try again and, believe it or not, I laughed. I told him we'd never "tried" to have a baby. It always "happened." It took me awhile to get over the guilt from the miscarriage because I had been so angry about getting pregnant again. I felt that it was my fault that the baby died and somehow, it was God's way of punishing me. I started to spiral down into a scary place I never want to return.
How'd I get out? Yep, you guessed it. I got pregnant.
At this point, James is almost three and Al almost two. Mum had done her miracle and got James potty trained four days after he turned two-and-a-half and Al is well on his way to accomplishing the feat as well. Sometimes, I really love my mother.
So here I am pregnant. Again. But I'm okay with that. If we are meant to have these children then so be it. It's nothing we can control and frankly, seeing Harry be a father to his children is the most wonderful sight in the world. He gave up so much of his life for others and to see him enjoy life is perhaps the best gift I could give him.
By the time this one comes along, James will be three-and-a-half, and Al, two-and-a-half. It'll be rough, I know, but I have a feeling Harry will finally get his girl this time. Things feel completely different this time and, I confess, I asked the WombWatch technician if the baby was a boy or a girl. There was no teeny tiny penis.
But I will let you in on one thing that Harry doesn't know yet. Before I have my six week check-up, he's getting a vasectomy.
Rating: Teen (use of the f-word and shit)
Words: 1200
Pairing: Harry and Ginny
Summary: Ginny speaks about becoming a mother.
Author Note: This popped into my head two days ago and I couldn't exorcise it until it was written.
Mr and Mrs Fertile
I'm not complaining, really. I'm just pointing out a few things.
I love being a mother. I love my children.
I love my husband. I love being his wife.
But most of all, I love having sex with that man. Really, it's possibly the closest thing to heaven this side of…heaven.
And that's what leads me to my problem.
We're fertile. Too fertile for my taste. And randy. Well, that goes without saying.
I mean, before we were married, we used every means of birth control available to us, Muggle and magical, simply because the idea of getting pregnant before we were married scared the shit out of us. Okay, fine. My mother's reaction scared the shit out of us. However, once those rings were slipped onto our fingers, it was as if something turned off inside both of us and we became careless.
And that's exactly what happened one month and twenty-five days after we got married; I got pregnant with James.
Harry was thrilled. I was thrilled and my mother became a nervous wreck. She wouldn't go to my remaining Quidditch matches even after the team doctor assured her several thousand times that I would be fine. In a way, it was a good thing that there were only four regular season matches left. I ballooned the day after my last match.
James Sirius Potter was born ten months, eighteen days, seventeen hours, ten minutes and forty-one seconds into my marriage.
Which leads me to…
Albus.
I mentioned the fact that Harry and I were randy, as well as fertile, right?
Well…you know that infamous six week check-up witches get after having a baby?
Apparently, not only was it a signal to my husband that we could fuck each other's brains out again during the rare times our son was not attached to my breast but it was an alarm that went off inside his balls and my ovaries.
Albus was conceived three months and twenty-eight days after his brother was born.
At this point, I was angry and repulsed by the mere thought of my husband making love to me. I was throwing up, had heartburn to beat the band and suffered from the most excruciating headaches I have ever imagined. I was the very definition of a witch, if you know what I mean.
But it was all worth it when that little boy with a complete head full of black, black hair was placed on my stomach.
This time, I was absolutely adamant with Harry that we would not get pregnant again for another ten years. Having two boys twelve and a half months apart was ridiculous. I was not going to add a third.
Now, Ron and Hermione got married three years before we did, simply because Hermione didn’t want to get caught straddling Ron anymore by Mum. She has an uncanny knack for detecting pre-marital sex under her roof. It wouldn't have been an issue if Ron wouldn't have been so cheap and not got a flat right away rather than living at The Burrow.
About a year before Harry and I got married, they began trying to having a baby. When I got pregnant so quickly, Hermione couldn’t even look at me for three months. Ron, ironically, had one hand or another on my belly every time that he saw me and asked me questions. That only served to make Hermione angrier. She avoided me and shot me deadly looks until the day I went into labour. Rather than stay outside with Ron and the rest of my family, she stayed by my side, apologizing for her behaviour and helped Harry coach me through the delivery. She was the second person to hold James.
And as it would happen, two months after James was born, Hermione got pregnant, and well, you know about me.
So, Rose was born a month before Al.
Now, back to Harry and I.
Harry agreed that we really needed some time to be parents…hell, we needed time to be a married couple. So we went back to our dating days and practised the kind of birth control we did before we were married. It took a lot of the spontaneity out of our sex life, but I was bound and determined not to have a third child in nappies.
Unfortunately, Mother Nature is a cruel bitch. Despite our best efforts not to get pregnant, five months after Al came along, I found myself knocked up once again by the Boy Who Lived to Reproduce. Needless to say, Harry slept on the couch for a week and even when he was permitted to enter my bed, I was in no mood to do anything but sleep.
I know it wasn't his fault, nor was it mine. In fact, after I got pregnant the third time, my Healer became rather concerned about us. She ordered tests on Harry and poked him in all the embarrassing places. I was also subjected to the bloody tests and after three hours of waiting for the lab results, Harry and I found out that we are both one of the .02% of the Wizarding population for which common birth control potions are ineffective.
Unfortunately, four months into that pregnancy, I lost the baby. Up until then, I had always taken it for granted that once I got pregnant, the baby would follow. It was devastating, especially after having two beautiful boys. Harry was wonderful, said we could try again and, believe it or not, I laughed. I told him we'd never "tried" to have a baby. It always "happened." It took me awhile to get over the guilt from the miscarriage because I had been so angry about getting pregnant again. I felt that it was my fault that the baby died and somehow, it was God's way of punishing me. I started to spiral down into a scary place I never want to return.
How'd I get out? Yep, you guessed it. I got pregnant.
At this point, James is almost three and Al almost two. Mum had done her miracle and got James potty trained four days after he turned two-and-a-half and Al is well on his way to accomplishing the feat as well. Sometimes, I really love my mother.
So here I am pregnant. Again. But I'm okay with that. If we are meant to have these children then so be it. It's nothing we can control and frankly, seeing Harry be a father to his children is the most wonderful sight in the world. He gave up so much of his life for others and to see him enjoy life is perhaps the best gift I could give him.
By the time this one comes along, James will be three-and-a-half, and Al, two-and-a-half. It'll be rough, I know, but I have a feeling Harry will finally get his girl this time. Things feel completely different this time and, I confess, I asked the WombWatch technician if the baby was a boy or a girl. There was no teeny tiny penis.
But I will let you in on one thing that Harry doesn't know yet. Before I have my six week check-up, he's getting a vasectomy.
