On the inauspicious date of 9/11/2004, Franklin Junior was born. Harmony hadn't understood her husband's overwhelming need to bring a child into this fucked up world, but Franklin wanted a son so badly he had promised her that she wouldn't have to work at all during the pregnancy and for at least the first six years after giving birth. Becoming a stay-at-home mom was not one of Harmony's planned career choices, but who was she to argue? There were definite advantages, which had tended to outweigh the disadvantages, although not by much.

Sometimes, when Franklin had been on top of her, dutifully if not artfully pumping away, Harmony imagined herself to be a slot machine. The coins were sperm, and a jackpot would include excruciating labor and take nine months to be delivered. Sex with Franklin had never been a thrill ride, and his increased attention during the months before she became pregnant had driven her to the brink of lunacy and contemplations of future celibacy.    

Harmony took numerous EPT's, with Franklin omnipresent and staring anxiously at the strip, waiting for the test area to turn blue as if for a prize to be revealed. Her own desire for a positive result was also less than altruistic. It would mean the end of one ordeal, though the beginning of another.  

Holding him in her arms, Harmony was astonished to discover how deeply she cared about her newborn son. She realized that in giving birth, more than one miracle had transpired.