What to do, what to do...

The inevitable happened yesterday.

I knew it would at some point, but I was hoping for a little more in the distant future.  But no, yesterday.

"Hello, Melissa?  This is Dr. Robbin's office.  We wanted to know what your plan was for your frozen embryos."

Oh good.  This call HAD to take place the week of my 4 year old driving and my 2 year old off roading with a walker.  Of course they decide to call me after four years the week when I am questioning if I am really doing this whole parenting thing well.  Awesome.

I told her I would call her back today.  I conveniently forgot.

Five years ago this October, Dave and I went through the In Vitro Fertilization process (IVF) because we were told that unless we did, we basically had no chance of conceiving on our own.  I was all messed up hormonally and I knew in my heart that what I had been dreading since I was fifteen was in fact true - I couldn't have a baby on my own.  But we ventured through the process (which I will save for another post) and at the day of the transfer (when they put the embryos back in) we had four viable, healthy embryos.  Dr. Robbins, being the fantastic Reproductive Endocrinologist that he is, would only transfer two because of the great chances of both taking.  The other two were frozen.

 By that point I had prayed and felt in my heart of hearts that God told me I would have four babies so I of course wanted to store any embryos we couldn't transfer.  Beyond that, Dave and I believe with our whole beings that life begins at conception - even if that conception is in a test tube so we couldn't discard them or donate them to scientific research.  And to all the naysayers, God plays a part in it from the beginning.  Out of 32 eggs, 17 were mature, 11 fertilized, and only 4 survived to day 5 when a natural pregnancy would not even technically be a pregnancy yet.  God determined which would survive, which would have life.

Anyway - four babies.  

Well, 8 months after Luke and Emma were born I went back to my doctor to make sure that I still couldn't have children.  My OB told me that nothing had changed.  And one month later, I was pregnant...naturally.  Lily, our biggest surprise ever was born 18 months after the twins.  Will was born promptly 19 months after her when I got off the pill for one month.  IVF not only made it possible for us to have babies, it kicked my body into high gear and now we have four.

FOUR BABIES.

I can't have two more, are you kidding me?  My kids run circles around me most days as I struggle to keep up and maintain some sort of control.  I love me children with my whole heart, but Dave and I may have to be institutionalized if we have more.

So, what do we do?  I can't throw away the embryos - totally not an option for us.  Those embryos, that most people would consider just cells at that point in development, look like this:

This is Luke and Emma when they were only five days post conception.  And now those little embryos, look like this:

I can't imagine adopting them out - our kids look so much like us and those are my babies even if they are being stored right now.  I can't throw them away - that would be like throwing Emma and Luke in the trash.  My stomach gets sick even thinking about it.  And having them?  My body is so protesting from having four in 3 years,

I can't imagine it could take much more, or my sanity for that matter.  So what did we decide to do?  Pay for one more year of storage.

Aaaahhhhh!!!  WHAT DO I DO?????????????