The procedure took place at the reproductive clinic. Melissa had continued with her thermometer and medication; they pinpointed her ovulation to occur that day. They had thought Keith would be on the table next to hers. But he had to make his contribution before they even started on Melissa. Then eggs were taken from her, to spend time in a petri dish. The resulting mixture was reimplanted in Melissa, and she was released within hours. They were warned that the procedure often failed the first time.

Melissa prepared herself for her next period. The expected day came, and she felt pre-menstrual, but nothing flowed. By the time she was three days late, her breasts were as tender as a twelve-year-old’s. She started to get excited. She also started to get superstitious.

Her astrologer had predicted that she’d conceive, and had warned her that medical intervention should be avoided after the conception. Her Tarot reader had a less severe recommendation; she cautioned against permitting any uterine intrusion, but saw nothing wrong with other medical vigilances. Her closest friends thought amniocentesis could be dangerous to the baby. Anne was alone in advising prenatal tests, and Anne was disregarded. Melissa refused amniocentesis, avoided blood tests, and ducked several examinations. She watched her diet, eliminated alcohol and coffee, walked daily, and she tried to keep the doctors out of her pregnancy.

Keith couldn’t prevail on her to go for any tests. As far as he was concerned, Melissa’s hormones were rocketing out of control, and every attempt to reason with her only made her more adamant. He worried about multiple births. He thought daily about risks. He had to console himself with the fact that Melissa seemed flushed with health, her belly looked the right size, and the baby’s activity seemed normal. He distracted himself with business. He was careful to compliment Melissa on her maternity wardrobe. She was completely unreceptive to sex or even romance during the pregnancy; he could only please her by noticing her clothes and by not interfering with her anti-examination decisions.

Their daughter was born 268 days after the IVF procedure. Labor and delivery were both relatively straightforward, and Melissa was exhausted and ecstatic when her nine pound baby girl was placed in her arms. Keith felt racked by powerful protective feelings; a surge of masculine mastery mixed with weak-kneed love in him for mother and daughter.

The baby was beautiful, but her coloring was a surprise. Keith and Melissa both came from dark-haired stock; they’d chosen the name Melanie for a girl because they liked the sound and they knew it meant “black.” They marveled at their blonde, blue-eyed daughter. “Who’d have thought we both carried recessive genes?” Keith wondered. “I think one of my mother’s brothers was blonde when he had hair,” Melissa replied, and then added, “I can get into it.  I can dress her in all the colors I could never wear.” The nurses reminded them that most white babies are born blue-eyed. They added that many babies lose their birth hair and grow a new crop in a different color. But Keith and Melissa knew they had a blonde and figured they’d better come up with another name. They agreed on Suzanne.

The new family left the hospital two days after the birth. The nurses took blood from the baby before releasing her, but all preliminary test results were good. Keith and Melissa decided to welcome their daughter home with a small reception.

“Let’s give her twelve godparents,” Melissa suggested. “She’s too special for just one. I’m sure I have a friend for each sign. Then Suzanne will be protected throughout the year.”

“Whoa, Mom,” Keith rebutted. “I know you have a lot of odd friends from your artsy industry, but that plan is too far out. How about just your four advisors?” He paused at Melissa’s frown and then added, “That way, she can have one godmother for each season of the year.” Melissa liked that reasoning and they issued invitations.

Their caterer arranged the food, but Melissa supervised décor and wardrobes. She avoided the traditional baby pastels in favor of black, white and spots of pure primary colors. She dressed Suzanne is bright green, which showed off the baby’s surprising coloring, and she clad her recovering body in basic black. It wasn’t until the day before the party, as Melissa was reviewing the RSVPs and the seating arrangements, that she realized they hadn’t invited Anne.

“What were we thinking about when we talked four advisors?” she blurted stridently. “How could we have forgotten Anne?”

Keith suggested that their omission was natural. “After all,” he reasoned, “she stopped being ‘an advisor’ once you stopped listening to her. You refused her counsel after conception…” Keith’s voice faded as he saw the unreceptive expression on his wife’s face. He tried: “Anyway, it’s not too late to invite her.”

“But she’ll change our symbolism! Remember that we settled on four godmothers for the four seasons? Well, that’s wrecked when we add a fifth.” She started to walk out of the room in frustration, and whipped around at the doorway to add, “It’s like we’ve changed the shape of things into a pentagram, and that’s a symbol for black magic!”

There was no reasoning with her then. In a few hours, she came to her own conclusion: Anne must be invited and must be treated with the same honor as the other four. But Melissa was less excited about the reception from that moment forward.