So it’s like speed dating for eggs and sperm. Is that what you’re saying? I’m nodding like I understand what I’m agreeing to. We have always heard it called “turkey baster method.” It’s oddly comforting when doctors explain medical procedures to me like I’m a child. “The journey the sperm takes is very long, and they often don’t survive long enough to meet the egg,” like my vagina is on the oregon trail, ” so if we can just get them in the same place at the same time they have a better chance at connecting.” Will the union last, or will Spermy die of typhoid, stock up on supplies in this month’s attempt to go west!

So you bring in the “sample” the morning of the procedure, it’s best if it’s “fresh”. If this language doesn’t turn you on, then I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Then they put it into a wee bitty robot that spins it to select the fastest ones. Then you put your feet in the stirrups, and the doctor says, “Let’s get you pregnant” with a quick knock at the cervical door (and the secret password, which is a catheter) the speed dating begins. Next you lay there for 10 minutes, just like you might after a nice roll in the hay, and you hope and wish and pray that they meet each other.

The first time we did this was in November, in which year I can’t be certain. The family was about to dish up Thanksgiving dinner, and I popped into the loo to freshen up. My little white dog followed me in as I closed the pocket door behind us. By the time I realized the pocket door was jammed shut, I had already assessed the first drips of bright pink that informed me how unsuccessful “speed dating” had turned out to be. I was sad and trapped, and no one knew where I was. Luckily, I had my white dog looking compassionately at me and not panicking at all. I cried as much as I needed to, and by the time I was found, I was beginning to accept that “assisted reproductive technology ” was going to be more than I optimistically thought.

Fast forward 3 more “turkey baster” procedures, 3 egg retrievals, 6 embryo transfers, ONE LIVE BIRTH (applause, squealing, and confetti) and you will find me in November 2023 asking myself “what’s next”? We have 2 embryos remaining in the freezer in Portland. You may not have heard of them because we don’t talk about them. They are wild cards. Very little is known about the genetic makeup of this type of embryo. Many clinics actually advise you to (and I quote) “discard” these kinds of embryos because they are very likely a miscarriage about to happen. To which I say, ” I’ll show you where you can discard them!” I paid for them to be stored because I would rather them be discarded into my warm uterus than anywhere else.

Okay, this is going to get sciency. Stick with me. These embryos are called mosaics, meaning they have a mixture of normal and abnormal cells. If you have 53 minutes and you like this kind of thing, search NOVA fighting for fertility on OPB. It will leave you scratching your head about what we should do. It’s utterly hopeful. They really do not yet know if these type of embryos can result in live birth and healthy babies. There is an (unfunded) clinical trial ongoing at Stanford Medical right now that I could elect to participate in. It would be entirely self-pay and include travel to Stanford at least twice.

I sought this trial out, and I feel compelled to say yes to collecting data that could help a family in this position a few years down the road. I think of all the people who said yes to experimental medicine and procedures that got us to where we are today. Of all the tears and heartache that those studies resulted in. How people repeatedly said yes to trying a strange (so strange) new drug or procedure. Thanks to those brave souls, I have a very nice baby in my house.

This yes is so complicated and layered that I might not be able to do it. The alternative option is to go to my clinic in Portland, where they are frozen and have them popped into my body there. Less expensive (only about 3k), less travel, but also less data collected. So we have a lot to think about.

Today is December 10th, Fox’s trasnsfer-versary, which I will remember forever. I got the memory archives on my phone today and wept while drinking my coffee just thinking about that magical secret day. I have not loved Christmas much for no good reason, really, but having my baby here makes me enjoy it in a new way. He loves lights, maybe this is a thing all babies love, but I wonder if it’s energetically tied to A Light for The Way candles we made to bring this child here. If we do the Stanford thing, I will be making a ton of candles or pineapple run fundraisers or bake sales as it’s about $10k. I don’t know if we have that in us? It’s a big amount, and you, our community, have really supported this endeavor so much already. If you pray, will you ask on our behalf for the guidance of the divine towards the decision that is best in this circumstance? We thank you so deeply for reading, caring, celebrating, and believing with us. Merry Christmas, and may you find light everywhere you go like baby Fox does.