– Good morning, I’m calling from the fertility centre…
–Ah, yes! – I say, feigning nonchalance – they took their time calling, there must have been a lot to inventory – I add, bursting into laughter. I often resort to humour to lighten up…
Uh, no … ‘says the lab assistant, after clearing his throat – it’s just that we have had a lot of work here this morning. Well, of the fifteen eggs retrieved yesterday, ten were mature and of the ten, we’ve been able to fertilise nine. We’ll call you back in two days to tell how they are evolving … Do you have any questions?
I wanted to ask what they looked like, if they were nice, I thought about it, but in the end I chose to say “no thanks” and thanked him for the call before hanging up.
What joy! Saying that nine have been fertilised. I felt so proud! I was extatic! I have nine potential babies under production! We are capable of making nine embryos! I love them all! Already, I love you all! And of course, I immediately call my husband, who is working. He answers on the first ring:
– Well, then?
I explain that we have nine little darlings (referring to my grandmother, who used to call me that when I was little)
– Bravo champion, you’ve done very well!
Of course, the next two days were extremely stressful. I kept thinking about my little darlings. Idiotic questions like: Will they be alright? Won’t they feel too lonely? Will they be cared for properly? One thing was clear; I was more than attached to these embryos of love.