Experience + Council

I've wanted to post again for awhile now, but we've had a lack of internet connection (feels like my arm has been chopped off!) But I'm trying to get back into the swing of things despite the ultra slow wireless signal from an obliging (or unaware) neighbor.

I felt like I should post about an experience that Spencer and I had a few weeks ago. In April I kept trying to set aside a day that we could go to the temple and something would always seem to come up at the last minute and we'd have to postpone our plan. This happened several times actually as we planned to go to the temple. We all know full well how to choose between a good thing and a bad thing. What's difficult is when the choice is between two or three or four good things. Especially when it consists of helping someone during a time of need. Not that all of the distractions pulling us away from our temple plans where good things, but a great number of them were. It came to the end of the month and I attempted to put down my foot to Spencer and say, "It will happen on [this] day. We're going." Well, once again several things came at us all at once, and I lost it. I fell apart. I felt so discouraged. By this point I just felt desperate to get to the temple. I felt spiritually starved for it, and I knew that Satan was standing on my coat tail (or skirt tail) trying to keep me from getting to nourishment. It was doubly frustrating to me that it seemed like Spencer was assisting him. For some reason he didn't seem as anxious as I thought he should be to make our plan happen.

Finally, a Friday night, May 1st to be exact, we started the 2 hour drive to the Atlanta Temple as soon as Spencer got off of work. He seemed especially quiet and irritable the whole drive up. I wasn't exactly the prime of contentment either. As we parked the car in the temple parking lot, somehow a nit picky comment doubled over into a knock down drag out. We attempted to get out of the car, but the argument seemed to escalate, and to avoid humiliation we got back in. A stupid argument about where to leave a cell phone and where to put trash turned into a spill-over of random bottled up emotions and feelings that had never really surfaced. Things about our relationship and the way we communicate. But one of the most important realizations that surfaced as we vented all of our frustrations to each other was that most of the frustrations we were feeling were directly and indirectly caused by our infertility situation and we weren't loving each other through it and relying on each other for comfort the way we should have been. We both had been feeling distant, confused, and unloved. I think knowing that we couldn't carry all of those frustrated and upset feelings into the temple forced us to sit there and reconcile our situation, not just a temporary "I'm sorry" fix, but a real spill out of deep feelings.

It has been amazing the change in Spencer since he was able to let it all out. Men tend to bottle things up inside. He's seen me cry and cry and cry until I've made myself sick, but not once have a seen him really let out his emotions on his own personal infertile circumstance. He's always been rational and seemed rather impartial on the subject. So to hear him say that he had been angry with God and for him to describe hopeless feelings was somewhat of a shock and relief at the same time. He confessed that the temple was the last place he felt like being at the moment. At first I concurred, but then a flash of thought came to me that I knew was the Spirit. I said, "I know. But I also know that inside those walls is where we have been promised an eternal family. I know we have children. And being in the temple is the only place on earth that I can feel as close to them as possible. And I want us to be together as a family, even if only in the temple for now." We both embraced as we felt the same stir of emotions.

We collected ourselves and finally made our way inside the temple for the last session of the night. While inside the temple there was a certain point where it all suddenly hit me: The Priesthood. We hadn't sought the power of the priesthood yet and we needed to seek a priesthood blessing. And not just any blessing...A Father's Blessing. And not just any Father's Blessing...My dad is an ordained Patriarch. I have heard truth and prophecy pour out of his mouth and felt the power from underneath his hands on numerous occasions.

The following Sunday happened to be Fast Sunday and we all prepared ourselves. We both had a blessing. In my blessing I was blessed to be relieved from any anxiety I felt over the issue of bearing children, that I would indeed be blessed in the Lord's due time to bear children and that I would be able to carry to full term during each pregnancy and that I should prepare myself in every way to be a mother. Spencer then was blessed and counseled to be cautious about what he puts in his body, to take his vitamins and any thing else the doctors recommend to him, to continue his exercise program, and that after he did all that he could do, the Lord would make up for what he couldn't do for himself, and that he would be healed and would be able to father children. WOW! We have been on cloud 9 ever since! I still feel overwhelmed with joy and comfort as I recall all of these things.

Forgive me if all of this seemed long-winded or too personal to share. I was feeling it all in my heart and just had to share it with some awesome women that I knew would be happy to hear it. I'm so thankful for the Temple and for the Priesthood and for the council that the Lord was willing to send us. I just hope that we can be faithful to that council. I'm clinging to it for all it's worth!

Results are IN and the results are GOOD :)

Despite our rocky start, our IVF cycle has apparently worked! Blood test yesterday confirmed what 4 days of frantic peeing into a tiny little plastic tub and setting a dip-stick in it had hinted at. By "hinted" I mean the first day I did an hpt it came back negative. The next two days were very, very, very faint positives, but somewhat after the time limit. The last day was FINALLY within the time-frame and darker than the others, but as all my extensive (as in "Internet") research pointed to a great possibility of getting positive hpt results as early if not earlier than when I tested, I was slightly nervous. Maybe my hcg levels just weren't very high? Maybe this wasn't going to be a viable pregnancy? Maybe, maybe, maybe... And while we're nowhere near actually having this baby (or babies) in arms, at least the results from my blood test came back nice and strong. Phew. And YIPPEE!! :)

Marking Time

One of the strange things about suffering a miscarriage or a failed IVF cycle is the marking of time. As the months pass, I think "I would have been this far along", or "I would have looked about as big as that woman does right now". It is sort of a melancholy thing, to be thinking about something that never came to pass, but that easily could have been.

I have already marked the first of two days this year that "might have been". February 22nd was my due date for the pregnancy I lost to miscarriage. Like a distinct tying of lose ends, my pregnant sister-in-law (who called a week after my miscarriage to announce that she had just discovered her surprise pregnancy) gave birth a few days before "my" due date.

As for the other marked day, I have the misfortune of having not one, but two friends who are both due on the exact June Friday that would have belonged to my baby, if our most recent attempt at IVF had worked. So instead of preparing for my own little one to arrive, I get a front row seat to exactly what might have been instead.

Sometimes I wonder if it is worth risking more failures and more marked days to expand our family. But as any woman who has dealt with infertility knows, every month there is a marked day, a possible due date, and the heartache of losing that possibility all over again.

So is it worth it? Sometimes I just don't know. But then, I realize that the heartache of not trying at all would be far worse - a fact of which I am reminded every time I look into my sweet little boy's eyes and wish for him to have a sibling.

Marking time is one thing, but regretting time wasted is quite another.

Better to have tried and lost than not to have tried at all.

IVF #2 ...here we go!

We're doing an IVF cycle this month. As in, I started my period on Tuesday, and on Wednesday had my FSH and E2 tested, ran to the pharmacy and bought $800 worth of Gonal-F (no prescription necessary) and started the injections. And the whole doing-infertility-treatments-in-your-non-native-language has already bitten us squarely on the rear. Sigh. A nagging little part of my brain kept telling me, "I think we started doing something BEFORE day 1 (starting my period) of the cycle we planned to do IVF in...but did we really???" Back at our initial consultation, in December, Dr. Bossano very clearly stated, "when you're ready to do IVF, just call us on the first day of your period and you'll go in for hormone measurements and we'll start from there." Awesome! Unfortunately, what he meant, and probably explained somewhat, is you start that whole menstrual cycle and on day 21 of THAT cycle, you do some drugs and then get your period AGAIN and do the actual ovarian stimulating drugs. Duh! You'd think I'd remember that! It was three years ago, though, and surprisingly, much of that IVF is pretty fuzzy by now.

So all day on Wednesday (Day 2 of my cycle) this nagging feeling was getting stronger and stronger...Finally I googled "IVF timeline" etc., and the nagging blossomed into full-fledged worry as I saw and began to remember the REAL timeline. Yep, spreads over TWO cycles. Dang it! We don't have TIME to do this schedule! We leave Uruguay on June 12. We literally will NOT be here to do IVF according to the timeline. I held on to a slim hope that they do it differently in Uruguay, that we were still going to be able to squeeze a cycle in. And then I called the office. I hate, hate, HATE talking on the phone in Spanish. Especially when it's something important and vital information is being exchanged. I hate it. But, it had to be done. And yes, the nice lady told me my hormone levels looked perfect and she'd set up an appointment for day 21 for an ultrasound and etc., etc. So I clarified that we weren't actually doing IVF in this cycle, and then let her know about our, ahem, misunderstanding and how we were moving and HAD to do it this cycle. Silence on the line. She said she'd call me back. So I sat by the phone, my mind flitting through various options, on the verge of slight panic. She called back about 2 minutes later, and told me the new plan. Injections immediately, and we'll go for it. Yeeeessssss!!! Though I don't remember or know what I'm missing out on by skipping the previous steps... Hopefully nothing too important.

So, there it is. We're going for it again. AND, we're not telling anyone! Well, scratch that. Our families of course know, and many of our friends here in Uruguay...and y'all....okay, basically, I'm just not putting it on our blog, because we want to surprise at least SOME people if we are blessed with a pregnancy again. How cool would that be? Very.

I Love IVF

(Note: this is kind of general, and says some stuff that has already been said here quite eloquently...but I posted this on my personal blog and figured it fits in here pretty well, too!)

I was walking back from the park one day last week, wrestling the stroller up and down not-very-stroller-friendly curbs while Nuala and Bran lazily munched on crackers, when an older, sharply-dressed woman who was power-walking purposefully past us noticed the two same-sized children and screeched to a halt. "Son mellizos?" Are they twins? Normal question. The next question was a surprise to me. "Did they happen naturally or did you do a procedure?"

Usually people are curious about multiples, and for some reason really want to know how you (well, me, in this case) were lucky enough to get two blessings for the price of one. But I, unlike many moms of multiples, have never been asked in my 3-years of pregnancy/motherhood quite so flat-out, and by an older woman, the how-to of Bran and Nuala. Usually people dance around the question, with inquiries such as, "Oh, do twins run in your family?" (which I love to answer with, "no, but they did in our doctor's office!" haha..followed by a confused expression and my IVF explanation.) So it was kind of a surprise. Which was a little refreshing, the directness. Maybe it wouldn't have been quite so refreshing if she had just been an obnoxiously nose-in-your-business kind of person, I guess, but further conversation revealed that her daughter has been doing IUIs (intra-uterine insemination) and is about to move on to IVF so she had a real interest in the subject. By the way, IUIs = total waste of money. At least for us. Bleh.

Honestly, I usually volunteer the information that Nuala and Bran are our IVF miracles. If we end up talking about them for more than a couple of sentences, I usually pop out with, "yeah, we did IVF..." so I have no qualms about talking about it. In fact, I probably give out a little too much information.

Here are the two reasons for my openness...

One: to be a bright and shining (or frazzled and crazy) ray of hope, and source of info if necessary, to others who might be going through the same struggle, or if nothing else to just raise awareness about infertility.

Two: ...is kind of embarrassing...I feel as if I'm going to come off sounding so...prideful. But here it is. I'm, um...sorta proud (see how I fear I will seem "prideful"?) of all the hard work that went into getting these two! Maybe "proud" is not the right word. I feel that sweet sense of accomplishment that one gets from fighting a battle and finally prevailing. An emotionally, financially, mentally, and physically draining battle in which we were mercilessly knocked down so many times yet were able to struggle back to our feet. Not at all to imply that natural pregnancies are devoid of hard work or are any less yearned for by the parents. Being pregnant is hard work. Period. Just because someone got pregnant the fun way doesn't make their babies any less wanted or important. Same with adoption. But, heck! IVF is a pain! In so many ways. And we went through it and were so blessed, SO blessed to have a successful and healthy pregnancy and delivery. So blessed to finally have our babies. And I know our IVF success wasn't due to me or my awesome uterus (though it was highly praised by several doctors, thank you very much...what, you didn't want to know that??)

I know 100% of the credit is due to our Heavenly Father. We did all we could, but in the end, it was totally in His hands. And I thank Him for these children many times a day (yep! even on the rascally days, which we have been experiencing MANY of lately...). I am also exceedingly grateful for the blessings of modern science, the amazingly microscopic and detailed procedures that allowed us the privilege of caring for these two very choice little spirits.

And the procedures are amazing. Such as: ICSI (intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection). The doc grabs one single sperm by the "neck," and says,"hey you! You're gonna fertilize this egg or die trying!" and manually injects the eager little swimmer staight into the egg. Who'da thought? I'm so grateful to have these medical advances available!

Which brings me to another somewhat eye-rolling aspect of the whole fertility treatment thing. Thankfully this has never been expressed to my face, but soooo much online from comments on news stories, or wherever, I hear "obviously God didn't mean for these people to have children!" Oh, pul-LEASE. If that were the case, no amount of effort or ingenious medical procedures are going to circumvent Him. Come on. It's insulting to Him, I think, to imply that if He truly meant for someone to not have children, that He wouldn't have the power to enforce His will, that a mere mortal could dink around with some sperm and eggs and create a life behind His back. And when does anyone know God's plan for other people? or even for themselves, for that matter? Do they not understand the concept of trials, and of doing all you can do when faced with a trial and leaving the rest up to Him?

And of course I don't understand all the "why's" behind why some wonderful people are not blessed in this life with children while the 14-yr-old down the street is pregnant, or the whole Octomom situation... There's a lot of stuff I don't understand. I don't worry too much about it. He has told us "my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways...For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9).

I love how Nephi, a prophet in the Book of Mormon, says it: "...I know that he loveth his children, nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things (1 Nephi 11:17). Me, too. Though I don't know the meaning of all things or have all the answers, I DO know He loves His children and has a plan for each of us, and I'm very grateful that Nuala and Bran are included in that plan for me. I didn't "sneak" them behind his back. He willingly and lovingly gave them to me.

Medical advancements, including fertility treatments, are a blessing. The Lord put the knowledge on earth to bless people. Sure, like all knowledge, people can use it for good or ill (Octomom...wow... though I don't believe for a second that those babies are mistakes in any way, but the situation...), and I have no problem taking advantage of the technology available to bring my babies into the world. Did I say, "no problem?" I meant: I am beyond thrilled that it's available!

I am also thrilled that my not-so-great vision (thanks, Dad!) can be easily corrected by wearing contacts/glasses, and while we're on the subject, boy was I grateful that not only did someone utilize the technology to create life-flight helicopters, but that one could get my sister to a competant doctor quickly enough after a car accident in the middle of nowhere so that he could use other medical advancements to save her life. AND I have fillings. Etc, etc. See what I mean?

I believe in a God who enlightens His children, in all aspects of their lives. He can inspire men and women to innovate and create and discover, leading to great progress for all mankind, and He also can guide each of us in our personal lives and decisions, such as how to go about building a family. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths (Proverbs 3:5-6). And for that, I am grateful.

So...I love IVF. Not so much all the "fun" little details of it, but because through it, I have my children.

{And also because I can truthfully say, when Nuala and Bran ask how babies are made, "well, we went to the doctor and told him we wanted a baby, so he got you and your brother ready and put you inside mommy's tummy..." heehee ;) No! I won't! I mean, they'll know all about how we got them, but I'll fill 'em in on the real facts o' life, don't worry...}

Been There, Done That

My husband and I have been considering attempting IVF again sometime this year, and have met with a doctor to cover the basics in case we do decide to go ahead with it. This required the repeat of every test we've ever had (except the HSG, gratefully, because I would have walked right out of the doctor's office if they had suggested such a thing again. Though I did get to have an SHG, which was uncomfortable, but not horrific). To complete the requirements for pursuing treatment I had to attend a three-hour IVF class (in spite of the fact that I have already done IVF, oh, let me count... THREE times. And yes, I did ask if it was really necessary).

I was prepared to be bored out of my skull, and it did feel rather like I was a college graduate in a room full of first-graders, but I managed to get through it without rolling my eyes or sighing too much.

The most interesting thing about the whole class was how nervous everyone was. Especially when the needles came out - the tiny little subcutaneous needles which barely count as needles at all - and the entire room audibly gasped in one moment of collective terror. I laughed.

I suppose all the fertility treatment I've been through has jaded me, though I can remember how nervous I was to do my first injection (I hardly slept the night before), but it wasn't necessarily because I was worried about it hurting; I was worried about doing it wrong. The wrong dose, or the wrong injection site, or the wrong SOMETHING. My first ever shot was on Christmas morning. (Now there's a "Ho Ho Ho" if I ever had one). To this day, if I hear the tune that played on my husband's cell phone as an alarm to wake us up, I get a little jittery and sick to my stomach.

The most interesting part of the class was listening to the questions people would ask, and watching the insane amount of notetaking going on. I swear, if the teacher sneezed someone would write that down, and then ask if the sneeze had any particular indications for treatment. One lady was obsessed with having several sperm samples to choose from. One woman would ask a question immediately after the same question had been just been answered. But surprisingly, no one asked about restrictions on sex during treatment, which is usually a staple for these types of classes.

I spent my time reassuring the forty-something lady sitting next to me, who was outwardly nervous and couldn't seem to figure out how to fill a syringe to the proper dose.

It was nice not to have to obsess over remembering every little detail. And it was a little odd how I, easily the youngest person in the room, was the most experienced and the most relaxed.

I'm so mature for my age.

Bad Omens and Pokes in the Eye

Natural twins are a bad omen. For me, anyway. Any time a friend announces she is expecting natural twins, it means bad pregnancy news for me. The first time this happened, a friend had called me from her doctor's office to express her shock and delight at discovering she was carrying twins (after trying to conceive for about a month, of course). I had just gone through IVF after dealing with years of infertility, and found out a few days later it had been unsuccessful. Then, the day after my negative pregnancy test, I had to host her baby shower. That was fun.

Then there was the time last summer when I was basking in the glow of a miraculous natural pregnancy. My husband read me an email from a friend, saying that she had just discovered she was expecting twins. Not a few minutes later I went to the bathroom and discovered I was bleeding. An ultrasound showed my baby had died, and suddenly my miracle was lost.

I'm sure you can see why, when anyone announces they are having twins, I get a little jumpy. I can't help it. Too many bad experiences. So I am always relieved when someone else's good pregnancy news means nothing ominous for me except the small twinge in my heart, and that can usually be tossed aside in favor of celebratory squealing.

But it seems the universe just likes to mess with me. If it can't directly affect a pregnancy, it seems to enjoy one of those little pokes in the eye to remind me of what I don't have.

This happened earlier this week when I received a phone call announcing the arrival of a friend's new baby. I hung up the phone feeling happy and excited for their family. And then a few minutes later my cell phone rang again. Of all people, it was my fertility specialist, calling to go over some test results with me. Good timing, doctor. Nothing ruins a joyful moment like reminding me I just spent time having my uterus filled up with saline and all my blood re-examined with a fine-tooth comb. Thanks, I needed that.

I don't know why it is that the universe doesn't want to allow me even one minute of happiness for someone else without reminding me of what I can't have. Where's the love?

Come on universe, enough poking already.

Not So Much

I know I've shared a lot of angst on this blog. I'm totally okay with that. But I had a surprising experience a while ago at the other end of the emotional spectrum.

A friend of mine has three kids. She has never dealt with infertility issues, is never likely to have infertility issues, and probably knows only a couple of people who have infertility issues... me being one of them. She is quite sympathetic and wonderfully opinionated in favor of those dealing with infertility issues, which is why we talk about families, our ovaries and sex. She mentioned once that for her, sex at certain times of the month could never be as enjoyable as she would wish because there's always a worry in the back of her head of getting pregnant again.

That comment just exploded in me. For a split second, I lived what normal fertility was like... the luck of the genetic draw where the desire to get pregnant and actually getting pregnant involved one or two months of trying. Not a test or a procedure in sight. Oh, my; how easy!

The weird thing is that I actually felt sympathy for her. I didn't feel jealousy or anger or resentment at all. (Okay, yes, this is me writing!) I realized that the amazing emotional and physical intimacies I have with my husband are, in part, because of our dealing with infertility. It wasn't as though I felt as if I had been awarded something compensatory--I felt blessed for what I had. That doesn't mean I'm satisfied with the standstill I'm at; it just means I'm grateful for what turned out to be not so small a blessing.

No small wonder. I've had nearly seven years of secondary infertility. There were days I couldn't get away from it. There were days it didn't bother me and there were days I was angry at everything. Yet I was able to enjoy my son growing up with all the tenderness of a hopeful parent. I loved him. I cried with him. I laughed with him. I taught him. When he asked for a sibling so he wouldn't be so lonely, I had to hold my breaking heart in my ribcage... I couldn't hide my tears. I've never doubted once that my son is supposed to have a sibling. I cannot deny that surety in my heart. But I've doubted that it could happen. I've doubted finding something our insurance will pay for that will work with the other medical silliness inhabiting my body.

Plenty of reason for angst.

My reaction to my friend's comment surprised even me until I realized that there's not so much angst now. There hasn't been for some time. I think my blogmates are rubbing off on me.

The new kid on the block

Wow.
I suddenly feel quite honored to be apart of this group of awesome women. It feels like somehow I have passed a test and have been officially inducted into the Infertility Hall of Fame. Seems kind of ironic, doesn't it? Ironic that I am actually happy about it. I mean, honestly, who would will themselves to be in our boat? But at the same time I have to admit that being asked to be an author on this blog makes me feel like I've made it to some kind of major marker point in this marathon. I'm sure I have a long way to go still, but it's nice to be to a point where I can look back and see the bigger picture.

Most of you know me, except for Fiona, but let's make this induction official by spilling the juicy details. Spencer and I met out at BYU-Idaho in 2003 and we have been happily married now for about 4 and a half years. We officially started trying to get pregnant a little bit before our 2nd Anniversary back in September of 2006. I remember that first month being sooo devastated when my period came, late of course. I had no idea I would have to endure that month after month after month only to find out in February of 2008 that we have been dealt the male-factor infertility card.

We were living in Virginia at the time and had initiated visits to a referred infertility doctor, which that's another post in and of itself, but suffice it to say it added additional emotional scarring to my already wounded heart. A couple of months later in April we felt impressed to just up and leave Virginia and move to Georgia (where I am from and my family still resides). So we did! We didn't make that decision lightly...obviously, Spencer was quitting his job to go somewhere he didn't currently have one. And unfortunately, we also left behind the blessing of insurance that covered IVF, our one hope. All I could do was pray and trust in what I knew I was being asked to do by Heavenly Father. We are settled now and Spencer has a good job and we were so excited to get to buy our first house! It somehow felt like a step toward our goal of expanding our family to finally have a place to call home. But alas, no insurance benefits toward anything to do with infertility. And honestly, as we've prayed about it all, we never have felt impressed to do anything about it but just wait. So we wait.

Waiting is never the most desirable option when you want something so bad it hurts. But like every trial in our lives, I have learned so much from it. I am 10x more patient than I ever imagined I could be...not just patient with life, but patient with other people, sympathetic to all kinds of life situations and heartache, patient with myself and my own imperfections...I've learned to accept when I just can't quite measure up and to call upon the Savior for help. I've definitely learned what it truly means to turn something over to Him and to trust Him. I have somehow, through this constant crushing desire for a baby, been crammed with an exploding amount of love for children. Not just love, but again patience...And that's necessary when you teach thirteen 5 year-olds in Primary {LoVe it!}. I've learned to be grateful for this time I've been given all to myself. It really has been a blessing to me. I've realized that I am unique and special...we all are...because of this situation we have been put in. We have not been put on the typical timeline that happens to most people in our LDS culture. We have been set aside as examples through our trials. I want to be found faithful to what I know to be true no matter what is thrown my way, just as Job of the Old Testament was. I'm grateful to you, my fellow Hall of Famers, because you have been my examples. Yes...I am definitely proud to now have my name up in that top right hand corner list next to yours!

It Gets Worse

I was already upset over proposed legislation in Georgia to limit the number of embryos that can be transferred per IVF cycle. Now, having done a little more research (including reading the actual bill itself) I am beyond horrified.

The bill calls for limits on number of embryos transferred (two for a woman under the age of forty), but it doesn't stop there. It limits the number of eggs that can even be fertilized per cycle to the number of embryos to be transferred; in other words, only two eggs can be fertilized per cycle because only two embryos can be transferred!

The terror this strikes in my little heart is beyond expression.

There are so many problems with this. For starters, as anyone who has ever done IVF knows, number of eggs does not equal number of embryos. Not all eggs fertilize, and not all resulting embryos survive to even be transferred. If the number of embryos that could be made was limited, this would severely impact chances of a pregnancy.

This would also eliminate cryopreservation as an option. If only two eggs can be fertilized per cycle, obviously there would be no embryos left over for later use. This sounds like something out of a horror film. As someone who has done two fresh embryo transfers and one frozen embryo transfer I can say that the frozen embryo transfer was about a million times easier - no painful ovarian stimulation, no surgery, no recovery. To tell someone that she will not have the option of doing IVF again without starting at the beginning and having needles jammed into her ovaries, when she might have been able to have embryos frozen originally, is criminal. And expensive. To repeat the whole process would be another $10,000+ (often not covered by insurance), while using frozen embryos would be a fraction of that cost.

The good Senator is trying to prevent destruction of embryos, championing his cause as pro-life. Well, Senator, you can bite me. I am staunchly pro-life, and believe that embryos are the beginning of life. But telling me I can't create more embryos to use at a later time because of the possibility they might end up destroyed? That's ridiculous!

Yes, some embryos do end up being destroyed - but any embryo that is healthy and growing is either used or preserved. Only embryos with problems are destroyed, because they would not survive or not result in a pregnancy anyway (a process the human body takes care of in a natural pregnancy through miscarriage or the embryo not implanting in the first place). I know that some parents choose to destroy their remaining embryos once they feel their family is complete, but that is not cause to stop the creation of extra embryos altogether.

The bill also states that embryos created through the IVF process are the property of no one, and deserve to be protected. Excuse me, but my embryos = my property, and I will do with them as I see fit.

I do hesitate to say that the government should stay out of all reproductive issues because I believe abortion should be regulated, and only allowed in very rare situations, but in this case, the government should back off.

This is not a pro-life cause. It is an anti-life cause. Fewer women will become mothers if this legislation passes. And that's a situation where a lot of people lose.