I am pregnant. Then, before I tell baby's father, I miscarry. I feel that I have to tell him about the miscarriage, though. And for the record, I don't seem to have a loving relationship with Baby Daddy - it's more like he's a harsh and powerful business associate.
As I'm going to tell him about the pregnancy and miscarriage, the baby miraculously returns to life inside of me. So I rush to tell everybody (Mom, Baby Daddy) about the miracle. Then the baby is born - by working its way out through the front of my belly, without leaving any sort of wound or mark. Picture something rising out of a bowl of pudding - after it gets out, the pudding reforms without showing any signs of disturbance. Except this reforming happened instantly.
The baby is a Barbie-style doll.
Baby Daddy thinks I made the whole thing up - pregnancy, miscarriage, etc. - to get sympathy and special treatment. After all, the baby is just a doll.
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