A Valentine’s Day Gift to My Frozen Embryo
This was before I understood the epic transformation that would take place. Of course I knew about the mutation that an embryo goes through, Iâ€™m not a total idiot (Google), Iâ€™m taking about my epic transformation. One day Iâ€™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 donâ€™t know when life begins and Iâ€™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 canâ€™t have her! I canâ€™t stand the idea that my mass of cells would be out strolling through life in her pigtails and she wouldnâ€™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 Iâ€™m not after sympathy, but I think itâ€™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 canâ€™t fathom the idea of a third child. Yesterday, Benjamin ate his own poop; Itâ€™s very possible Iâ€™m at my max. On the flip side, there is something wonderful about the idea of being pregnant again and a houseful of children doesnâ€™t sound terrible. But it does sound really freakinâ€™ expensive amirite?
We have some time to think it over. The embryo can be frozen for years to come, but my uterus canâ€™t wait forever. Also, we have to take into account our aging in general. I donâ€™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, Iâ€™ll be in adult diapers either way.
So for now, the conversation, like our embryo, is on ice.
(Image: getty images)