Greetings from the Brain! I have a crucial message to convey to you on behalf of the entire body.
First off, huge thanks for all you’ve done in helping to propagate our species. Your efforts in bringing Baby 1.0 and Baby 2.0 into the world are unforgettable, and we owe you a great deal for your bold proclamation of, “I need a baby!” It was a clear call, and you were absolutely right—we did need those little ones.
Thanks to your contributions, we managed to address this need with remarkable speed and efficiency, a feat that would have made us the envy of any 1800s family farming rutabagas and needing to quickly expand their clan.
However, before you get too eager and start releasing eggs in celebration, I must inform you that, as we are no longer 19th-century farmers, your services will be coming to an end. After the arrival of Baby 2.0, a cease and desist order will take effect regarding all baby-related matters emanating from your corpus luteum. No longer will we heed your incessant reminders about how adorable or wonderful babies are, nor will we be overcome with emotion upon spotting a random newborn at the park.
The Nose concurs that aside from Baby 2.0, baby sniffing is off-limits, and if by chance the delightful scent of a baby’s head wafts through, we will take all necessary measures to cleanse the air before it can reach anyone’s heartstrings.
I must also highlight the toll this has taken on your neighbor, The Uterus. Thanks to your enthusiasm, she has been on high alert for the past 10 weeks, and let’s just say, her patience is wearing thin. She has filed an official request for your departure from the lower abdomen, and that request is currently under review.
Before you consider using our current heavily pregnant state as a defense, bear in mind that any arguments you present will fall on deaf ears—literally. The Ears have suffered enough from the colicky cries of Baby 1.0 and are prepared to file their own eviction notice if Baby 2.0 proves similarly vocal.
The rest of the body and I want you to understand how serious we are. We are as serious as a heart attack—one of which you’ve nearly caused with your pregnancy scares. Let me be clear: we are done having babies.
That said, you’ll be pleased to know that The Heart remains your biggest fan. If it were up to that sentimental organ, we would have a whole brood of children and a menagerie of rescue pets. But the coin toss went my way, so I’m here to officially declare the end of reproduction. Ding, dong.
Due to your significant role in expanding our family, you will be allowed to continue releasing eggs monthly until you eventually wither away into the useless, shriveled remnants you’re destined to become. Furthermore, since we can’t pinpoint which of you is responsible for our offspring, you’ll both receive a participation trophy as a token of our gratitude.
Unless there’s an apocalypse or a need to colonize another planet, you must refrain from reminding the body of your desires or holding it against us that you have nearly 2 million additional eggs ready to go. If storage space is a concern, perhaps consider evolving and embracing the idea that sometimes, less is more.
We appreciate your understanding and cooperation with this new plan.
Warm regards,
The Brain
In Summary
The message is clear: after the arrival of Baby 2.0, the ovaries will cease their baby-making activities, as the body has decided to stop expanding the family. While the ovaries have played an essential role, it’s time to move on.
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