For the last two weeks, I've been congratulating myself on producing the eleven eggs retrieved. Today was my final medical appointment for the egg freezing process. Before signing the papers confirming how many eggs are going to the freezer, I'm given a new total. Unfortunately, two eggs didn't mature enough to be frozen. Bummer. This makes my total nine. Considering I've been high-fiving myself about the number eleven, I feel a little disappointed.
Leaving the clinic, I send my BFF a text: "Just got done at a follow-up dr. appt - those two eggs didn't mature enough to freeze so I got 9 instead of 11."
"Oh. Hmm. I kinda thought 11 kids would be more than you'd be able to handle anyways. 9 sounds reasonable." He responds.
I laugh out loud and realize that if I'm truly honest with my over-achiver self, no matter what the egg count, I would have wanted more. I remind myself to be grateful that during my journey I had a fantastic support group, minimal discomfort and finally made it to the end with positive results - multiple eggs! Plus, those nine eggs are seriously the coolest thing I've ever seen.
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