
At first, Larissa brushed off the changes in her bo:dy.
She blamed digestive issues, getting older, bloating—perhaps just stress. She even joked about it, saying she must have been eating too much bread becau-se her stomach kept expanding.
But after conducting several routine tests, her doctor’s expression changed.
“Ma’am…” he said gently, glancing over the results once more. “This may sound unusual, but the tests indicate… pregnancy.”
Larissa stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sixty-six years old!”
“There are extremely rare cases,” he replied carefully. “But you should consult a gynecologist to confirm.”
She walked out of the clinic in shock. Yet deep down, she believed it. She had given birth to three children before. As her abdomen continued to grow, she convinced herself this was some sort of late-in-life miracle. She felt pressure, heaviness—sometimes even what she interpreted as movement.
Still, she never visited a specialist.
“I’ve done this before,” she told herself. “When the time comes, I’ll go to the hospital.”
Months went by. Her belly grew larger. Curious neighbors began to ask questions, and Larissa simply smiled, suggesting perhaps God had chosen to bless her once more. She knitted tiny socks, chose potential names, even purchased a crib.
By her own calculation, she had reached the ninth month when she finally scheduled an appointment with a gynecologist to prepare for delivery. The doctor, skeptical because of her age, began the examination.
The moment the ultrasound image appeared on the screen, his face went pale.
“Mrs. Larissa… that isn’t a baby.”
Her heart pounded. “Then what is it?”
He took a slow breath.

“You have a lithopedion,” he explained.
“It’s extremely rare. It happens when an old ectopic pregnancy calcifies inside the body. Your body surrounded the undeveloped fetus with calcium as a form of protection. This likely occurred decades ago—and only now is it producing symptoms.”
Larissa stood motionless. For years, she had unknowingly carried not a new life, but the hardened remains of one lost long ago.
Surgery followed. It was complicated but successful. When she woke up, she felt something unexpected—not grief, not shock, but relief.
What she had carried was not a miracle waiting to be born.
It was a chapter her body had quietly closed many years before.
And for the first time in months, she felt light again.
