Life is a bitter mystery

"Life is a bitter mystery" was an expression used by one of my old coworkers way back then, and it's one of those expressions I often refer to. It's true, you never know what you'll get in life, although I'm still debating about the bitter part. Lately though I've gone through a quite mind-boggling experience that would tend to assert that quandary yet I've somehow managed to keep a stiff upper lip, if you know what I mean.
I found out a few months ago that although mentally I'm still a young chick (yes, maturity is not a lifetime goal), my body has decided to prove that it's not that infallible.; more precisely the lady-ovaries decided to act beyond their age and stopped producing as many ovules as they should. The result? No little jr. Ns about to come. And so Mr. N and I went to an ovary specialist, better known as a fertility doctor.
Many probings and sticking with needles later, 4 (yes read four) embryos were transplanted. Needless to say that I was in a state of panic. Four? The hell? one seems impossible enough, but 4? No worries, none of them decided to stick around, and this is where I recalled my coworker's expression. You see I panicked at the idea of having four, but having none was even harder. And so now I find myself thinking that next time around if I'm asked whether it's OK to transplant 11 embryos I'll just have to think of what name to give to the football team, because people, life is a bitter mystery, and out of the eleven I'll hope that one decides to call itself my kid... and hey, if they all decide to stick around, we'll need a goal keeper!