The topic of remaining embryos is often a sensitive and seldom-discussed aspect of fertility treatments. Nearly four years have passed since my last embryo transfer, which resulted in the birth of our second and final child. At the time of my first IVF attempt, I was 36, and I welcomed my youngest just shy of my 41st birthday. My partner and I had mutually decided that two children would be our limit, especially after navigating the challenging terrain of a difficult pregnancy and childbirth.
Now, we find ourselves with one embryo still in storage.
The initial storage fee for this embryo was paid without hesitation by my partner, a straightforward man who typically doesn’t shy away from tough decisions. The cost—hundreds of dollars—was a small price to pay for what felt like an insurance policy after years marked by infertility, a miscarriage, two ectopic pregnancies, and multiple surgeries.
When the storage bill arrived again, our newborn was thriving. My partner called me at work, his tone cautious. “We need to discuss the storage fee for the embryo,” he stated. Overwhelmed and exhausted, I implored him to cover the cost for one more year, promising we could revisit the topic later. He agreed and paid the fee again without question.
Now, on the brink of my youngest’s third birthday, I find myself anxiously anticipating that phone call from my partner, who may be ready to reconsider the necessity of continuing to pay for the embryo’s storage.
This dread is difficult to articulate. I firmly believe in a woman’s right to choose, viewing an embryo as just a cluster of cells, similar to the egg that regularly exits my body or the sperm from my partner. Yet, when I embarked on my first IVF journey, I was captivated by the potential of these cells. The doctor had shown me images of two blastocysts that would be transferred. Under the influence of medication, I found humor in their resemblance to spider eggs, feeling little emotional attachment to them at that moment. When one successfully implanted, my joy overshadowed any loss for the other.
With our second attempt, however, I faced the reality that only one of our three frozen embryos had survived the thawing process. This news hit me hard. We were at a critical juncture, and the financial and emotional costs of repeating the IVF process felt insurmountable. The stakes were undeniably high.
As I prepared for the transfer, I was filled with anxiety rather than excitement. My partner, ever supportive, offered to implant both surviving embryos if I wished. However, upon learning that only one had made it through, I was overwhelmed with sorrow. I spent the following days in a state of despair, concerned for the well-being of this sole blastocyst.
Then, the unexpected call came from the fertility lab—one of the other embryos had survived after all! It simply needed more time to thaw. My tears flowed freely, as I realized that this little cell had become a symbol of hope, one I wished to keep frozen for a future possibility.
The reality is that I acknowledge my remaining embryo is just a collection of cells. Yet, I find myself hoping that my partner will continue to support the storage fees, allowing me the space to process this remaining potential.
For those navigating similar situations, resources such as this article on artificial insemination can provide valuable insights. Additionally, consider exploring the BabyMaker Home Intracervical Insemination Syringe Kit for at-home insemination options, or the CryoBaby at-home insemination kit for those seeking alternative paths to parenthood.
In summary, the emotional weight of having a remaining embryo is complex and often filled with tension. As I navigate this uncertainty, I hold on to the hope that, in time, I may find peace with my decision regarding this last little entity.
Keyphrase: Remaining embryo in fertility treatment
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]