I’ve recently been reminded that back in my very earliest days, I was both a sperm and an egg. I had forgotten that small detail, but I don’t feel too bad about it, because it’s something most men have difficulty comprehending. We have a hard enough time interpreting road signs that say “No Turn On Red,” so the idea that we were once two separate cells from two separate people can be elusive. If you think about it, the fact that we all started out, in part, as a single egg should help men accept their feminine side with a lot less squirming and meaningless explanation. And maybe that’s the problem: we just don’t think about it enough to completely grasp the concept. So I decided to do a little research into my own personal history, and here’s what I discovered.
My father took two months to produce the sperm that began my life. Had it not been sent on its crusade, that sperm cell could have lived up to two weeks inside his body before being broken down and reabsorbed. This is another one of those things I’d never thought about, that sperm have short lifespans. And if I really push my mind to go where it would rather not, I confront the notion that I could have been reabsorbed, like some Buddhist raindrop falling into the Pacific. To be reabsorbed is to cease existing before anyone even knew you were there. Close call.
My mother, meanwhile, had been born with two million eggs in her ovaries. Given the fact that sperm cells go out in mobs of two or three hundred million, this number of eggs shouldn’t be a big surprise. But it was. I’d always believed that there was one egg for each month of a woman’s reproductive years. That would mean fewer than five hundred. So now I know there were a million of us in each ovary, and we’d all been in there right from the beginning. In other words, my egg half was already thirty-three years old by the time that two-month-old sperm cell showed up. This seems a little creepy, so I’m trying not to dwell on it. But some stubborn part of my brain clings to the inaccurate belief that the egg is innately female, while the sperm is male. And that causes me to wonder if this is why girls tend to mature faster than boys: they had such a big head start.
Here’s another thing I’ve never been able to pin down in my mind. Ovulation happens when an ovary releases an ovum on the fourteenth day of the woman’s menstrual cycle. (Ovum is Latin, and sounds much more serious than egg. In fact, it sounds as though there should be monks chanting in the background, their solemn voices echoing off marble floors and down dark, shadowy passageways.) Fertilization takes place when a sperm cell manages to penetrate the ovum. Sperm cells can live for up to seventy-two hours, but the egg survives no more than eighteen. This would seem to suggest that actual conception can occur only during those eighteen hours, but the potential for a baby covers a longer range of time, because the sperm are capable of waiting around up to three days for the egg to show up. Just to completely banish any traces of lingering clarity, pregnancy is said to begin on the first day of the mother’s last period before conception, even though the egg won’t be fertilized for another two weeks and the future father may be off at an all-male retreat for small appliance repairmen, with no inkling of his impending entrance into parenthood. The only men who understand any of this are gynecologists, or people who majored in advanced calculus. The rest of us spend our entire lives wondering how we got here, especially those of us who, as full-grown adults, can’t make sense of a bus schedule, or have trouble gaining entrance into a bag of pretzels.
What was it like when I was an egg, one of a million others patiently waiting for a chance to get close to the door? We have a saying in English that describes being squeezed together with too many people: “We were packed in like sardines.” That’s a strong image, but there are only eight sardines in a can. At least that’s what I’m told, because I have no real interest in sardines. But at some point in our past, we were all crammed into an ovary with a million other eggs. For decades, nobody moved and nobody said a word. Every month, thousands of the eggs died and were, I assume, reabsorbed. By her mid-teens, my mother was down to about 400,000 eggs. Still a pretty good supply, and more than enough to give me the feeling that I was doomed to sit forever in the dark stillness of that reproductive warehouse.
Then, when hope was all but gone, I found myself near an opening at the edge of the crowd. I was drawn across a gap, and before I could even identify this new experience of empty space and aloneness, something pulled me into another place, like a tiny dustball being sucked into a vacuum cleaner hose.
And soon, madness.
Swarms of swimming things, crazed, out of their minds, trying to get at me. But why? What did they want, these strangely aggressive young creatures? All those years of quietly waiting for something to happen, and suddenly I was the finish line in a special version of the Boston Marathon, designed for runners with absolutely no sense of direction. Signs advising against turns on red would have been pointless. Order had been replaced by chaos.
As a former egg, I have no memory of that sperm getting in, or of being fertilized. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be talking about it in public. But apparently, the sperm’s nucleus merged with my egg nucleus, combining chromosomes and beginning the process of cell division. The one united cell split into two, then four, then eight. Now I am made of many trillions of cells. And so are you. The journey from there to here has been unlikely, on a scale that’s impossible to measure. But we are here, you and I. And there’s a question that follows us wherever we go: What do we do now? What do we do with this improbable gift, this chance at life that escaped so many millions of our tiny roommates? What do we do before we are, at last, reabsorbed?
Allan Douglas
February 16, 2012
I say we put a scoop of vanilla ice cream atop a double-fudge brownie and call it a day. This is way too much brain activity for so early in the morning.
I’d never realized that the egg has a 15-30 year head start on the two month old sperm. Somehow that seems perverse.
Thanks for the education, Charles.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
I hesitate to say this, Allan, but I’ve never liked brownies. I realize that you’re an open-minded person, but there are people out there who have trouble exhibiting a similar level of tolerance, especially when it comes to food. And so now I wait for the inevitable backlash.
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charlywalker
February 16, 2012
Feel like I’m reviewing my Anat & Phys classes….
Natural Selection, my man…….this world is already over populated and you wonder about the destiny of the unknown soldier sperm?
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Can’t help wondering, CW. I’m the one who got through, and this is the mind I ended up with. More natural selection, I imagine.
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charlywalker
February 18, 2012
Ahhh…. and what a great selection that was…
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azureboone
February 16, 2012
This was nothing like a classroom lesson for me, this was AWESOME. You did an AMAZING job intimating me with my origins, something I have NEVER done to such an extent! Life is truly an amazing concept.
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azureboone
February 16, 2012
LMBO okay, so, I read this in my email and then came and saw the pic at the top and just died laughing! So funny!
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Thank you, azureboone. I’m glad you liked it.
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The Sandwich Lady
February 16, 2012
I never thought about re-absorption. But I sometimes wonder about the other sperm that could have penetrated my mom’s egg when I was conceived…or my own eggs when my three kids were conceived. How would my life be different if I were someone else, someone with some of my genetic material but not all? How would my family be different if a different throw of the genetic dice had given me different children? I can’t imagine any other existence.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Great questions, Cathy, and they just add to the mystery. There are so many possible outcomes, yet only one becomes real. And then, as you said, it’s difficult to imagine any of the others.
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Sandra Parsons
February 16, 2012
The hubby and I are frequently joking how, in the process of making a baby (or practicing for it), we are actually ‘killing’ millions of her brothers and sisters. But then, if reabsorption is the alternative, aren’t we actually doing the merciful thing by flushing them down the toilet?
You see, as a biologist, I knew all the facts already. What’s new is your take on it (chanting monks and pretzel bags), and it never fails to crack me up and make me think. Thank you for that.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
I’d say you’ve taken the discussion at least a step or two beyond where I was. I wish I’d known you were a biologist, though. It could’ve saved me some time. Thanks for your feedback, Sandra.
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O. Leonard
February 16, 2012
Count me thoroughly educated now, and it took this long. What an amazing way to look at the whole process. This should be required reading in every sex-education class in the country. But I have to agree with Allan Douglas, it was straining my cognitive powers this morning.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
If you were thoroughly educated by me, you were in bigger trouble than you realized. Or maybe that was your strained cognitive powers talking. But thank you for the comment, O.
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Diane Henders
February 16, 2012
Ah, the big question: what will we do with the miracle? Realizing one is the product of a miracle kinda puts on the pressure to perform. Now I’m feeling all anxious and unworthy.
I’m leaning toward @Allan’s suggestion. Ice cream and brownies can fix almost anything. If I add a nice big scoop of self-centred obliviousness, I’ll be fine. Until you make me think again…
I’d say “stop that”, but I enjoy your posts too much. 🙂
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Imagine the flow chart for this one, Diane.
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Carol Deminski
February 16, 2012
Neil deGrasse Tyson’s got nothing on you my friend. Nice job.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Now that’s a compliment, Carol. Neil is one of my favorites.
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notesfromrumbleycottage
February 16, 2012
Charles, it is finally sunny out and I am enjoying your writing, as usual. Then you throw in the existential thought at the end. My head is now hurting. Must find chocolate to make sense of it all.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Thank you, Rumbly, for connecting an impressive, philosophical term such as existential to my confused thoughts. I’ll have to remember that.
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notesfromrumbleycottage
February 17, 2012
I am simply happy I spelled the word correctly.
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worrywarts-guide-to-weight-sex-and-marriage
February 16, 2012
Hmm? A cloistered nun and an appliance salesman walk into a womb . . . .
It’s all starting to make sense now.
Very funny and clever as always.
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
Thanks, WW. It’s always nice to hear your opinion.
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Linda Sand
February 16, 2012
In my young adulthood, a sperm and egg managed to mate and grow for several weeks before being reabsorbed. I still mourn that planned-but-never-to-be baby. Yet I enjoyed your version of the creation of life and Sandra Parson’s comment about practicing for it. Now if only you didn’t end by helping me feel guilty for mismanaging my own miracle life…
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bronxboy55
February 17, 2012
I understand how your mind clings to images and thoughts of what was supposed to be. When life snatches something precious from us, it can become even more real, and the feelings connected with the loss never go away. As far as mismanaging your own miracle life, I doubt you’re any more guilty of that than the rest of us. Please notice that I said, “What do we do now?” I intentionally didn’t say, “What should we have been doing all this time?” because it’s too late to change what we’ve done or haven’t done. But as long as we’re alive, we always have now, and the chance to do something different. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, Linda, and for your heartfelt comment. I appreciate both.
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Patti Kuche
February 16, 2012
Deep thought and fascinating speculation! I was always curious as to what the nuns and priests did with their eggs and sperm, hiding away in the mysteries of their habits. . . considering how keen they were on making sure the two met as often as possible elsewhere in the parishes.
Looking forward to Part 3!
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bronxboy55
February 18, 2012
I think I’d rather not know about the nuns and priests. I had a hard enough time when I discovered that they actually ate food.
Thanks for the comment, Patti. But who said there would be a Part 3?
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magsx2
February 16, 2012
Hi,
I didn’t know even half of what you have written, it certainly does make you wonder about the ones that missed out. 🙂
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bronxboy55
February 18, 2012
Mags, I didn’t know most of what I wrote, and I’m still not sure I understand any of it.
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estherlou
February 16, 2012
This was awesome, imformative and cleverly interesting. Thanks so much. Loved reading it.
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bronxboy55
February 18, 2012
Thank you, Esther. I’m glad you enjoyed this. I certainly had fun writing it.
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rangewriter
February 16, 2012
Your next book, perhaps? A comprehensive, entertaining, and factual account about the miracle of life? Wonderful. However, it would probably be banned from Idaho schools. ;-(
“I could have been reabsorbed, like some Buddhist raindrop falling into the Pacific.”
So glad you weren’t!
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bronxboy55
February 18, 2012
Hey, why are you always talking about my next book? What about yours? I think you’re a wonderful writer, and I have no doubt there are many incredible books inside of you, waiting to be written. (You’re mad at me now, aren’t you?)
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rangewriter
February 18, 2012
So we have a little nagging circle going here, eh? Actually, I will be editing someone else’s book in preparation for CreateSpace publication. Starting that project next month and looking forward to it. My book, if it ever happens, has a loooong way to go. But really, I love the way you handled this topic. These two posts, compiled in a small book, would be a wonderful teaching tool for …junior high? (I’m not an educator, so I’m not sure about academic levels.)
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Amiable Amiable
February 17, 2012
What do we do now? Personally, I’m waiting for you to explain menopause and hot flashes!
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Tori Nelson
February 17, 2012
Yes! Please shed some light on cramps as well 🙂 Brilliant post!
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
This could be a whole new category of blog posts — writing informative articles on subjects I know nothing about. (Or maybe it wouldn’t be so new after all.)
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She's a Maineiac
February 21, 2012
Add me to a growing list of people waiting for your take on these subjects, Charles…
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
I think I’m too much of a coward, Darla.
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Anonymous
February 17, 2012
Greatly enjoyed this post, but must confess that Amiable Amiable’s comment is what turned my chuckles into extended laughing out loud. Hope you accept the challenge!
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
AA likes to see me get myself into trouble.
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Amiable Amiable
February 27, 2012
I just like to see someone other than myself get into trouble, Blud.
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Marie M
February 17, 2012
Hmmm. I didn’t plan to be Anonymous. Is that anything like eggs and sperm not planning to meet? At least both can say, “How did THAT happen???”
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
I’m not sure how it happens, Marie. Do you have to log in first before leaving a comment that shows your name?
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Barb
February 17, 2012
Amazing facts. I’ve often wondered how things would’ve been different with sperm # 432, instead of sperm #86. Fascinating.
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
The question seems to lead in two completely opposite directions: either it’s all incredibly random or it’s perfectly planned.
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Joseph M Kurtenbach
February 17, 2012
“For decades, nobody moved and nobody said a word.”
Hilarious imagery, as usual, Charles. I think somewhere there really were monks chanting your praises that moment you made it. Still are, in fact.
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
You always have something kind to say, Joseph, and I appreciate it.
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Body & Mind Balance
February 17, 2012
Absolutely brilliant!
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
Thank you, Anna. I don’t know about the brilliance, but I’m happy you took the time to read and comment.
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Cathleen Barnhart
February 17, 2012
My daughter just finished studying reproduction in biology class. I helped her study for the test…wish we’d had this piece to read! So interesting and funny and informational.
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bronxboy55
February 20, 2012
Thanks, Cathleen. I hope your daughter did well on the test.
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Ashley
February 17, 2012
I think my brain just exploded.
Loved this, and informative as well! I would love to see your article be required reading for my daughter’s “Reproductive Health” class. You educated me this morning and made me smile at the same time – no easy feat.
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
Thank you, Ashley. I’m still amazed by how much I don’t know about this topic.
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souldipper
February 17, 2012
After choking at least four times on my Yerba Mate, hooting with hilarity, and cleaning up the mess, I am left with the image of you mumbling, snorting and cursing over a bag of pretzels. My gawd, Charles, find another purpose, QUICK… My jaw can’t take much more of this!
You are such an adorable egg/sperm!
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
Thanks for the comment, Amy. Now I have to go find out what Yerba Mate is.
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John
February 17, 2012
You know, sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
That’s the truth, John. I’m pretty blissful about a lot of things.
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Sybil
February 17, 2012
What do we do with this improbable gift ? Me ? I leave wise-crack remark on people’s blogs. I am an adult-version of that annoying child, who tugs at your sleeve, endlessly repeating, “Look at me”, “Look at me” …
As for getting “reabsorbed”, I suspect the Almighty will quickly tire of me tugging at his sleeve, and will send me back.
“My father took two months to produce the sperm that began my life.” (WOW — that’s one hell of a long love-making session !
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
I’ve come to expect wisecrack remarks from you, Sybil. Thanks for not disappointing me.
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Val
February 17, 2012
I guess what we do now is get together with all the other eggy people and just Be. You’re making a point of Being very well, as usual. I am completely mind-boggled by this post. I’m long past making any eggy things (thankfully and I don’t miss ’em) but before I was past it, I never quite understood the goings on in the wombworld. (Apart from when someone wanted to do a snippity-doo-dah and then I understood enough to shout a loud and lingering ‘noooo!’) 🙂 (Actually it was the idea of having to wear support stockings afterwards that did for me, but don’t tell anyone or I’ll never live it down.)
I had to look up ‘No Turn On Red’ because as a Brit, it made no sense to me. Having looked it up, it still doesn’t, so my sympathies!
Oh, and – apropos one of the comments you received and your response – I’m not wild about chocolate chip cookies either. Too hard, and why waste chocolate by putting it in cookies? Much better to eat it as it is. Preferably lots of it.
Anyway, you be careful, Charles, or with a post like this you’ll be FP’d again…
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
You see, Val, in North America we drive on the right side of the road (and the correct side). When we come to a red light we’re allowed to turn right, as long as we don’t interfere with any traffic that has the green light. But at a few intersections, there will be a sign prohibiting such turns. It’s never clear why.
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Terri O.A.
February 17, 2012
Would Gandhi have approved of this post? I think so. 🙂
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
He would have definitely been on my blogroll.
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Terri O.A.
February 25, 2012
No doubt about it! Looking forward to your next post!
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writingfeemail
February 17, 2012
Some religious sects believe that every egg that escapes unfertilized is a tiny death of a would be life – hence the ritual cleansing baths that must follow. Makes me wonder what they think men should cleanse when all of those sperm go unutilized. Hmmm?
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bronxboy55
February 25, 2012
I imagine those religious sects were unaware of the thousands of egg deaths that take place every month inside the woman’s body. For that reason, I guess they placed great significance on the single egg going unfertilized.
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An Idealist Thinker
February 18, 2012
Is it true? Because I don’t think I learnt any of this in the 2 years I studied Biology. You think my teachers were scamming us?
First you take a Biology class and then you turn it on its head by saying this,
’What do we do with this improbable gift, this chance at life that escaped so many millions of our tiny roommates?’
‘What do we do before we are, at last, reabsorbed?’
Charles 🙂
(P.S. – Can’t leave without mentioning the many interesting comments, especially AA’s, Tori’s, Marie’s (what do you plan to do about that?) & Renee’s.)
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
I think I’ll steer clear of this topic for a while, AIT. I didn’t know what I was talking about in this post, so I should probably leave it to someone else to explain menopause and hot flashes.
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Elyse
February 18, 2012
This is not only a brilliant post, Charles, as always, but oh so timely. I think it would confuse the heck out of all the politicians trying to pinpoint life. To think it actually occurs BEFORE sex even occurs. This could mean that all conception started “In the Beginning…”
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
I had already given myself a headache with this post, Elyse, but now you’ve made it worse.
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Carri
February 18, 2012
Brilliant and fun. Look forward to reading more. First time lurker here…
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
Thanks, Carri. I hope you’ll come back.
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dearrosie
February 18, 2012
I agree with a previous comment – you should be a science teacher. Your notes are so easy to read and understand.
“Sperm cells can live for up to seventy-two hours, but the egg survives no more than eighteen.”
Wow… so much chance to make us.
I also love the drawing on the top.
Off topic, after our 5 mile hike in Malibu this afternoon we drove down the Pacific Coast Highway to get gelatos at our favorite Italian gelato store which I’ve blogged about before. I had two scoops – hazelnut and coffee. It didn’t disappoint 😀
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
From now on, I’m going to think of you every time I have gelato. I hope it’s soon. Thanks for the comment, Rosie.
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cnickal
February 19, 2012
As far as I know, my egg wasn’t a pedophile when I got concieved, because my mom was 17. That’s not pedophilia yet, right? And also, it’s true that some men might get to their femenine side with this, as some might think about suicide… Oh sexism…
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
I think you have the beginning of a post of your own there, cnickal.
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Jessica Sieghart
February 21, 2012
I have to say, until I read these last two pieces of yours, I had never thought about how incredibly lucky it is to be born. But then again, if one of the other spermmates had been successful, I wouldn’t have known that I wasn’t going to be. You’ve boggled my mind with this concept.
I don’t really believe we are here for a particular reason, but thinking about it does rather make me want to be the best that I can be. I agree with Dearrosie, you should be a science teacher 🙂
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
I agree completely with your conclusion, Jessica: “…thinking about it does rather make me want to be the best that I can be.” That seems to be the best way to look at the incredible luck.
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She's a Maineiac
February 21, 2012
You did it again. My mind is blown. I am so relieved you add sentences like “trouble gaining entrance into a bag of pretzels” because it brings me right back down to solid ground again. I can handle pretzels (mostly).
It’s all just too much for my brain to comprehend. So I will get all Zen now and say– we are all the same, we are all from the same source, we have always been and we will always be. (ah, I feel so peaceful just thinking about that concept) The eggs, sperm are miracles like everything else under the sun. But truly we are all simply energy that is constantly transforming and evolving (let’s hope!)
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
That’s a great response, Darla. The reproductive process really is very mystical, and mysterious.
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Priya
February 22, 2012
“What do we do before we are, at last, reabsorbed?”
How about giving those trillion cells a chance to say thank you for making me to the pioneers — the sperm and the egg?
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
That brings up another interesting question, Priya: Do the original two cells still exist?
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Priya
March 1, 2012
If a grain of sugar and a grain of salt dissolve in some water, do they cease to exist?
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Lyndi
February 24, 2012
“What do we do before we are, at last, reabsorbed?”
Excuse me, um, if I could just squeeze by here, thank you so much, excuse me, oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…excuse me please. Is that the door?
57 years later.
Excuse me, um, if I could just squeeze by here, thank you so much, excuse me, oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…excuse me please. Is that the door?
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
Maybe we have our personalities before we have anything else.
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Lyndi
February 24, 2012
I am new here, and to the world of blogs in general. As an avid reader, may I say that I am crazy about your writing. I dare say I get an absolute buzz every time something shows up in my email.
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
What a kind thing to say. Thank you, Lyndi.
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buckwheatsrisk
February 25, 2012
Just wanted you to know that I nominated you for the Sunshine Award. I know it’s weird for you I just had to mention you on my blog, because you’re blog posts are awesome!
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bronxboy55
February 29, 2012
I really appreciate your thoughtful comments, and the award, too.
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buckwheatsrisk
February 29, 2012
my pleasure! much deserved
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mostlikelytomarry
March 2, 2012
Love, Love, Love this post!!! Forwarding it to my newly prego sister. Thank you!
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bronxboy55
March 6, 2012
I’m glad you liked it, and I hope your sister does, too. Please wish her the best for me.
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icedteawithlemon
March 5, 2012
I feel educated. I also feel just a tiny bit “creeped out” (yeah, the idea of that two-month old sperm cell hooking up with that 33-year-old egg left me with thoughts that I would prefer not to think!). And I feel pressured … “What do we do before we are, at last, reabsorbed?” Time to get busy! Thank you for once again making me laugh and once again making me contemplate this crazy world and my crazy life within it.
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bronxboy55
March 6, 2012
Thank you, Karen, for your consistent support and encouragement. I always find humor and wonderful insight in your blog, as well.
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zena1953
February 13, 2015
Today, by accident, I stumbled into your blog. I’ve never heard of you before. I wish I had. I read and reblogged both your Global Warming articles and then this one. I knew a great deal of the information you discussed. What has really affected me is the sense of wonder and delight that you exude as you write about things that most people would never seek to understand. I shake my head when someone can read your words, and the best they can distill from them is that the egg is 33 years older than the sperm! Would they feel better if it was the fourteen-year-old egg of a pregnant teenager? Thank you so much for your insights. I’ve become a fan.
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