So, as of this morning's update message from the clinic, all four of you were still "doing well". They apparently won't check on you tomorrow so the next I'll hear will be Saturday, to see which (if any) of you has decided to stick around to be frozen and put back in my belly.
It's gotta be tough to be you right now. It's no mean feat to have popped into existence from a sperm and an egg. And it only gets tougher from here. I mean, maybe you're 6 or 8 cells now, but in two days you'll be expected to be 70 to 100 cells. That's a lot of pressure!
I get it. I've been there. And I'm sure it's a lot easier to just kick back, put up your mitochondria and say, "Not worth it. Have you heard about global warming? The world's only getting worse. I'm not signing up for that shit." But allow me to take a moment and tell you about a couple of the perks that choosing to become a blastocyst has to offer.
First off, you get spectacular accommodation for 9 whole months in the warm, toasty climate of my uterus. It's essentially the world's best all-inclusive. It has an all-you-can-eat buffet of delicious nutrients supplied by all the healthy food I'm going to consume, and you get to sleep in all day in a super-soft bed. You can always try it out there for a while and if you don't like it, you can still get out of your contract at that point, although I really hope you won't.
If you sign on for the lifetime program, that's when the great benefits really kick in. You get your own room in a house that was bought specifically with you in mind, with a nice backyard and across the street from a great school. You'll quite literally be pampered. You'll be waited on hand-and-foot, with staff to cater to your every need. And speaking of staff, we've got some really great people. You'll have not one but two sets of grandparents who can't wait to spoil you rotten. There's also three uncles who specialize in horsie rides, flying you around like an airplane and other general shenanigans, as well as the coolest aunt in the world. Oh, and did I mention your big cousin who would love nothing more than to dress you up like a princess (whether you're a boy or a girl)? She's awesome.
And then there's your dad. He's the smartest guy I know, so whenever you have important questions like "Where do birds go when it's stormy?" and "Why does poo smell bad?" he's your man. He gives the best hugs when you're sad, and even though he's not much of an athlete that's never stopped him from trying. He's also our tech specialist so he's on call 24-7 whenever you have any computer problems.
As for me, I'm kind of your jack-of-all-trades. I take care of food (we have this amazing stuff called bacon, you're gonna love it!), medical (kissing bumps and bruises, applying fun cartoon bandaids, emptying the puke bucket when you're sick in bed), and general maintenance (don't worry about the at-home haircuts; we'll laugh about those when you're older).
We've got tons of activities planned. There's photographing and videotaping you incessantly, being overly interested in your bowel movements, cheering like crazy people when you take your first steps, and making sure you get cake all over your face on your first birthday. There'll be beach vacations with one set of grandparents, and exciting plane rides to the east coast to see the other set. Did I mention they have a cabin? Favourite summertime childhood memories have been made there for generations.
I hope this gives you a good idea of what's in store. Sure, it won't all be good times, but you'll have our unwavering support for all of those too. And there's so much good stuff I haven't even mentioned yet! Like naps and chocolate and snow and dancing and kittens and spaghetti and music and trampolines and...well, hopefully you get the picture.
We're offering total devotion and boundless love. We can't wait to show you this life.
We know you can make it. You just have to grow.