Tybalt.

Stork and Bub are married.

Stork and Bub are wildly compatible people, the only shocking difference is volume level.  He is very introverted, and I am.... Not.

At last years IVF we discovered our eggs & sperm basically have the same dynamic.

I don't really ovulate, but with good drugs my eggs come out ginormous.  Bub's sperm have no problem getting to the egg, but get overwhelmed and decide not to tell the egg it's there in the first place.

So to recap, my eggs come out all sassy, shimmying and jazzhanding their way through our Petrie Dish in a parade of glitter and feathers.  Bub's supermodel sperm gets invited to the party, but upon arrival decides eggs are weird. Decides that eggs are too horrifying to even alert of his arrival, freezes, and then lays still and quiet so the egg won't even know he's there.

Still don't get it?  Okay here's a reenactment of what happened, with the role of my eccentric egg being played by Dave Chappelle as Prince, and the role of sperm being played by cats.

You're welcome.

So here we are, 15 months later, and in 13 hours I'm gonna be sedated and have my eggs retrieved.  

I'm super excited about that part, seeing as how it's the one day where the IVF drugs are going to be FUN.  

Useless IVF (or any fertility treatment involving injections) tip:  DO NOT READ THE HELPFUL INSERT FOR ANY INJECTABLE.

No seriously, don't even glance at it.  If your eye so much as passes over it in a half ass manner, horrible words will pop out.  Just horrible, horrible ne'er to be explained properly words about what the fuck is in that shit to begin with. Two second glance over and this is what it looks like:

Again, you're welcome. And screw you my handwriting is wonderful enjoy the free art.  I'm explaining some very scientific shit left, right and center today.

I shit you not, Bub informed me that the trigger I shot up last night contained something called CHO - as in Chinese Hamster Ovary. You just let that sink in.

(Source.)

So tomorrow is the egg retrieval.  They're going to add the secret spice to make Marc's cats talk to my Prince, hopefully, and then we will know how many fertilized on Sunday.  Considering last time it was 1 out of 10, I'm very nervous about Sunday more so than anything.  

We have to leave here at 5:30 in the morning tomorrow (weeee!) so the plan for tonight is to bulk up on Fajitas (that's protein, right?) and watch "The End".  

By sheer convenient coincidence, this movie does contain one scene which is relevant to the House of Stork climate.  I give you, Jonah Hill's interpretation of any given infertile woman once she starts progesterone suppositories, as I will be doing soon:

I am feeling lucky (I get to do IVF when I need it, after all).  I am feeling unlucky (I need IVF, after all).  I am feeling nervous, I am feeling excited, I am feeling the need for fajitas.

If I have ever made you laugh or think or pause or smirk or you have any warm and fuzzies towards me whatsoever, please think a happy thought for me during the next couple of days.  Pretty pretty please.