A Valentine’s Day Gift to My Frozen Embryo

By  | 

This was before I understood the epic transformation that would take place. Of course I knew about the mutation that an embryo goes through, I’m not a total idiot (Google), I’m taking about my epic transformation. One day I’m looking at something resembling soap bubbles on colored paper in the fertility clinic and the next thing I know two little starfish shaped hands are squeezing my cheeks as my little boy comes in for his first kiss. He was just a mass of cells on a piece of paper and now I love him and his sister harder than I even knew I was capable of experiencing feelings.


I am very pro-choice. I don’t know when life begins and I’m not here to say an embryo is a person, but this embryo feels like my little person. I do feel a specific responsibility to this embryo because we created it on purpose. I feel selfish; knowing we could donate this embryo to another family and they could make their dream of having a child a reality. But fuck them! They can’t have her! I can’t stand the idea that my mass of cells would be out strolling through life in her pigtails and she wouldn’t be with me. Especially given her genetic disposition for anxiety, depression and being German.

I never imagined this scenario when we began the IVF journey. I was so desperate to have a child that it never occurred to me that we would end up with more embryos than we needed. Obviously, in the game of reproductive roulette, this is a quality to problem to have and I’m not after sympathy, but I think it’s important to share what can be the fall out from this strange new-ish world of reproductive technologies.

At this point, with two eighteen month old toddlers running my life, I can’t fathom the idea of a third child. Yesterday, Benjamin ate his own poop; It’s very possible I’m at my max. On the flip side, there is something wonderful about the idea of being pregnant again and a houseful of children doesn’t sound terrible. But it does sound really freakin’ expensive amirite?

We have some time to think it over. The embryo can be frozen for years to come, but my uterus can’t wait forever. Also, we have to take into account our aging in general. I don’t want to wait so long that I have to wear adult diapers at her high school graduation. Hell, if we have a third baby, I’ll be in adult diapers either way.

So for now, the conversation, like our embryo, is on ice.

(Image: getty images)

Pages: 1 2 3