You don’t need me to tell you that Scorpios are hard-core. But my college boyfriend might out-Scorpio them all. He was so intense and competitive that he spent the majority of our undergraduate years training for triathlons and plotting his master’s degree at Harvard, while I became VIP of the college cafeteria.
At 19, I thought his brooding, volatile nature was mysterious and his constant jealousy was flattering. But by 22, I was mostly just annoyed by how clean his dorm room was. A few years after we broke up, I moved in with an astro-addicted friend who introduced me to Susan Miller and the Astro Twins. I quickly learned that our relationship had not exactly been, let’s say, written in the stars. (I know, sorry.) I’m an outgoing, flighty Libra—the air-water combo was too combustible.
I later ended up with an Aquarius, another idealistic, spontaneous air sign. No surprise that our first kid was conceived by accident just three months after our wedding and roughly three years before we had assumed we’d get around to procreating. My son is a Cancer, which feels familiar and right since that’s my Rising sign. And the chart my former roomie did for him confirmed that he is a sensitive homebody who will always love his mom (*beams*).
But when it came time to give this perfect child a sibling, I was no longer willing to take chances. We started trying right after the holidays, and figuring it would take me a couple of months to get knocked up, I counted forward. That’s when I realized...oh, f*ck—my due date could easily fall between October 23rd and November 21st. My strong visceral reaction to the possibility of Scorpio spawn surprised even me.
I hadn’t thought about my ex in years. Suddenly I was picturing having someone like him around the apartment—in diapers—and it seemed like a lot of work. I knew it was next-level helicopter-parenting ish to attempt to engineer my child’s personality based on the zodiac. But I did it anyway.
I didn’t explicitly tell my husband, who would have rolled his eyes. Instead, I put the brakes on sex for a minute by making myself really busy until March.
My daughter ended up arriving right on time, on her January due date. My friend immediately drew up her chart, which revealed her to be a triple Capricorn, meaning that her Sun, Moon, and Ascendant signs—the three major elements of anyone’s planetary makeup—are the same, amplifying the expression of traits associated with that sign.
Turns out, Capricorns are wise old souls and practical goal-setters—so the universe may have sent me a taskmaster after all, in the form of this little thing who still spends most of her time naked. Okay, so maybe I have no control over who she will ultimately grow up to be, but still, as a Libra, I love a good story, and I can’t wait to tell her this one.