Dave and I were very candid with people about what we were going through. Surrounded by friends who decided they wanted to have a baby and were pregnant the next month, we really had an enthralled audience full of people thinking "But for the grace of God . . ." And if anyone thought we were doing the wrong thing, if anyone was thinking about unwanted children the world over or carried a conviction that the zygotes we were playing with were actually people, no one beat us up about it. We got nothing but good wishes and for that I am grateful.
I didn't want to do IVF. I repeatedly told my husband I wouldn't, but with a failure of Clomid to do anything, we ran out of options so very quickly. And before I knew it, there I was, staggering around with ovaries the size of grapefruits, praying for a million eggs, a million zygotes, but just one baby at a time, please. And because I live a charmed life, that is more or less what I got. Nathan's name means "gift of God" and I believe that he is. And God made use of some amazing science to bring him into being.
It blows my mind to look at this picture and know that my son was once tiny enough, and frozen enough to live in one of these little straws. It also blows my mind that stored in a vat of liquid nitrogen are many more of these straws housing little clusters of Dave and I. Nathan's potential sisters and brothers, chillin' in suspended animation. All that potential is a staggering responsibility. While I feel firmly that zygotes are not people, I also feel firmly that they are of high value and not to be treated lightly. When they told me that we had made a small army of zygotes, I was excited and felt immediately oddly protective toward them. When they told me that I was pregnant I was elated. When they told me that there was one healthy baby growing in side me I was ecstatic . . . and a little sad. They had, after all, put two zygotes in, and the presence of one baby meant that another, Nathan's potential twin, had not made it. Having another baby someday means that another little zygote may be defrosted and not implant, not fulfill it's potential.
Some, I know, say that's murder, and I say that is ridiculous. First, you can't murder what is not alive. Frozen in liquid nitrogen with no consciousness and no ability for independent existence is not what any thinking person would define as alive. Second, you might as well say that any sexually active woman who menstruates is committing murder, because chances are good that an unimplanted zygote is being washed away at the end of the month.
Watching the so called "Octomom" on TV made me crazy because she is crazy, her doctor was irresponsible, and no one suffers but the babies (and perhaps the American taxpayer). But it also made me crazy because she portrayed herself as so sure everything she did was right and perfect. As if IVF was black and white. That, for me, is the proof that she is crazy or simply hasn't thought about it. IVF involves risk for mother and baby and yet in the right hands it is very safe. It uses expensive medical resources for an elective procedure and steals research dollars from other causes. It gives hurting adults the chance to be parents but may then close their home to a baby who already is in the world and already needs their love. I am glad Nathan is an only child and I wish he had a twin.
There are endless contradictions in this process, but one thing is crystal clear: I love my baby fiercely. I do not think every day of where he came from, but I do think every day of how special he is and how I would do anything for him. Much like any parent I suppose.
It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Please think twice before supporting any legislation that would make the government responsible for sorting through these shades of grey. Leave it up to the parents!
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