First, let me say that I have had the privilege of being in on numerous embryo transfers. I was there as I watched the doctor find the embryos under the microscope (he would even let my brother and I look in the microscope to see if we could find the embryos), and then I watched him transfer them into the waiting female. I saw firsthand how amazing science is and how far we have come in the area of reproduction.  As I stood there over fifteen years ago propping my booted foot on the fence and watching the work being done on the dairy cows, I never dreamed that this would one day be my own personal experience. God certainly has a sense of humor.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, let me tell you that in some ways, the experience of the cow and the human is not far different. This became abundantly clear when we were in our IVF class learning about the process we were about to undergo, and I turned to Read and blurted out, “Oh, I know all about this part; I used to help Dad do it to the cows!” The nurse practitioner presenting the information heard my statement, grinned, and said, “You’ll have a lot in common with [the embryologist]. He got his start on a dairy, too.” That being said, there are a lot of differences between my experience and that of the cow; for those differences, I am very grateful, and I’ll leave it at that.

We arrived at the hospital at O’dark-thirty. A friend asked what time we would be leaving home for our appointment; I told him five, and he asked me if they made one of those in the mornings. Exactly what I was thinking. I used to milk cows at 5 a.m. I never planned to have to show up at a hospital for an embryo transfer at that time of day. We walked into the outpatient surgery part of the hospital and signed in. Another couple walked in close behind us that looked like they were probably there for the same thing. You kind of learn to spot others in the Good Luck Club after a while. We settled into the waiting room and were soon called back to the surgery prep area. This was the best part because Read got to be with me the whole time. There was no, “We’ll take her on back and let you know when she’s ready.” Or “Keep your pager on and you’ll know she’s done when it goes off.” Nope; we got to do this whole thing together. As Read and I headed toward the prep area, he turned to the other couple that were settling into the waiting room where we were sitting and wished them “good luck.” Ah, those two words that have come to mean so much through this experience.

Back in the prep area, the nurse pointed to a pile with a disposable gown, booties, etc. and told me that was mine and I knew the drill. Then she turned to Read and told him the pile on the chair was his to put on over his street clothes because he was going in with me. There was such an air of anticipation from the staff at the hospital as they prepared for the transfers. We were one of six couples that would be having the procedure done that day. Read and I quickly slipped into our disposable attire and prepared for the transfer. We chuckled at our appearance and took a picture of us in our garb, including hair nets.

It wasn’t long before two more couples were brought back to the prep area. One was the couple we had been sharing the waiting room with and then I saw my friend from the lab. She waved excitedly at me as she and her husband walked past our cubicle where we waited.

I have to say that while I was excited to be there and excited at the prospect of pregnancy from this procedure, I was very cautious. It’s a hard thing for those to understand who have not experienced the loss of one pregnancy after another, but it is all the more real to me how precious and fragile life is because of my personal experiences. And so at that moment, I remained cautious, begging God to help me trust Him completely with this and trusting that we were doing His will. I could hear excited chatter outside the curtain from the other two ladies there for transfers. I knew that when I left the hospital that day I would be carrying two lives within me, and I didn’t want to think about losing two more babies after all of the other losses we had experienced.

I was the first one to be wheeled down to the OR for the transfer. The nurse taking us down told Read to be sure he had his phone or camera or something to take pictures of the embryos. Now, I had seen embryos before, and there was not that much to see, but I figured these experts had done this a time or two and I should just go with it. In the OR, the people were so kind, friendly, and respectful. There was again an air of excitement. My doctor told Read to get his camera out and get right up next to the monitor on the wall to take a picture of the embryos when they flashed up on the screen. Read did, and the embryos were beautiful because they were ours. Then before I knew it, they had placed the embryos in my womb, the doctor had reassured me they wouldn’t fall out, and we were headed back upstairs to recovery.

In recovery, we waited the required hour, and then packed up our things and headed back home to wait. I had strict instructions to rest for at least two days; no housework, no dishes, no cooking, no laundry. I was queen for two days. At that point, we would not know for a time whether or not the transfer had worked.

As a human being, I think waiting is one of the most agonizing things in life. I want to know now what is in store for my future; or I want an answer to my request immediately. But God knows better. He knows what I can handle at the moment, and His plans are far superior to mine. And so I trust Him; I take each moment, each step, each process as it comes, and trust God for the results.

Having your eggs extracted is not something that everyone wants to read about, so let’s just leave it at the doctor harvested my eggs while I was under local anesthesia. The eggs have to be dealt with in the lab by the professionals, observed, determined if they are mature enough to attempt fertilization, fertilized, observed, observed, observed… They want to see how many will achieve fertilization and then how many will grow. Here’s what I’ve learned: 1. Just because you have an egg harvested, doesn’t mean it will be mature enough to attempt fertilization; 2. Just because you attempt fertilization, doesn’t mean the egg will actually be fertilized; 3. If an egg is successfully fertilized, there is no guarantee that the embryo will continue to grow and mature over time; 4. They cannot freeze an embryo for transfer unless it has grown to a certain size over the first 5-6 days after fertilization.

So, with all of that in mind, here’s our personal experience. My doctor reported to me in recovery that they had harvested 11 eggs, and he was very pleased with that. That was all we would know for 24 hours. Once I got home and was resting, I told Read that I felt like we had left our future children in a cold lab with strangers over an hour away. It was awful. I hadn’t even met the doctor that was taking care of my kids in the lab. Of course, you hope for and expect the best: 11 mature eggs, all achieving fertilization, all growing to a mature size that can be successfully transferred.

When I finally received the report I had been waiting for, they said that five eggs had been mature enough to fertilize, and three more had matured enough later in the day to fertilize. The other three eggs were not good enough or mature enough to do anything with. Each of the eight was successfully fertilized, and Read and I rejoiced over the eight new little lives that were now a part of our family tucked away in petri dishes in an incubator in a lab in Kansas City.

I find it ironic that on the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision, Read and I, along with five other couples who had been through the same procedures on the same day, waited anxiously to hear how our children were growing as cells in petri dishes in an incubator in a lab. On the anniversary of a decision that said a child isn’t a human being unless it’s wanted or until it’s born, we rejoiced over the lives of our children who were just cells growing and fighting for life at such an early stage. Life is so precious.

We have celebrated the lives of and mourned the loss of each of our children. Since I wrote the above, we found out that four of our little ones stopped growing on Day 5. The embryologist told me that having four embryos out of eight mature is really great. I appreciated his reassurance, but the loss is still great. But in spite of the pain of that loss, I have hope because I will get to meet all four of those precious babies one day when I get to heaven. My hope is in the Lord; not because of any good works I’ve done or rules that I’ve followed, but because Christ died for my sins and I have accepted His gift of salvation. Someday I will get to heaven and spend eternity with my heavenly Father and my seven children who have gone on before me.