8 Women, or, BabyBoom

There is this odd French film (French + film = odd, as we all know) that we all went to see some time ago. Eight women, one dead man, lots of singing, and who killed the guy?
Now the only thing that had died a horrible death today was academic talk around a table that saw three of us pass various exams over it in most laudably academic ways, again, some time ago, examined by lady number four (resp. one). No singing, but Ava meowed and snuffled, Lia burped, Tara first screeched, then cried, and Martha actually talked ('heiß' she said, and that was exciting in a near-academic way!).

Ava Emilia (1m), Lia Peanut (4m), Tara Olivia (8m), Martha Pauline (12m)

There! Eight women: four mothers, four daughters, nearly four months between them each, one after the other, four chairs, four table legs, four academic degrees... but I'm losing fo(ur)cus!

Ava is Ruth's, Martha is Katja's, Lia is Nirite's, and Tara is MINE MINE MINE!

(the table and its legs are Ruth's)