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Pregnancy
The One That Remains
Updated: Aug. 3, 2017
Originally Published: April 22, 2016
Photo by Ugurhan Betin / iStock
It’s the unspoken presence in the room, the embryo we seldom address. Nearly four years have passed since my last embryo transfer, which blessed us with our second (and final) precious son. I embarked on the IVF journey at 36 and welcomed my youngest just before turning 41. My partner and I had already decided that two children were enough, and after a challenging pregnancy and labor, that decision felt even more resolute.
Now, just one embryo remains.
The first time the storage fee arrived, my husband took care of it without a second thought. Although costly—running into the hundreds—it served as an unspoken safety net after enduring years of infertility, a miscarriage, two ectopic pregnancies, emergency surgeries, and a severely damaged fallopian tube.
When the second bill came, our new baby was thriving in the world. My husband reached out to me at work, his tone cautious. “We need to decide about the embryo storage fee,” he said delicately. I implored him to pay it, promising we could discuss it next year. With two beautiful children—one still an infant—I was overwhelmed and didn’t want to confront the existence of that embryo.
He paid the next year’s bill without hesitation.
As my youngest approaches his third birthday, I find myself anxious that my husband might soon feel ready to stop paying for the storage and initiate a conversation about the remaining embryo.
The dread I feel is hard to articulate. I am staunchly pro-choice and firmly believe that an embryo is merely a small cluster of cells, holding the same potential for life as the egg that ruptures monthly or the sperm that makes its journey.
Before my first IVF transfer, the doctor showed me a magical image of the two blastocysts set to be implanted in my cervix. High on valium, I giggled at the images resembling spider eggs, feeling no attachment—just hope. When one successfully implanted, I felt joy without mourning the other.
However, when it came time for our second child, my husband and I were navigating a rough patch in our marriage, uncertain about trying again. After a year of therapy, we decided to proceed, but I was now older, and the stakes felt higher.
We had three embryos frozen after the initial transfer. After months of preparation—more intense this time due to my age—the transfer day arrived. Once again, I was on valium, but this time, anxiety replaced eagerness. My husband generously suggested we could implant two embryos. Twins! I was still processing this when the doctor entered, “I’m sorry, but only one of your embryos survived the thawing process.”
In that moment, devastation washed over me. This was our last attempt, and we couldn’t afford to go through the entire IVF process again. Had another embryo survived, we could have tried again if this failed—the transfer alone was less burdensome and much cheaper.
So instead of feeling elated at the sight of a single blastocyst on the screen, panic set in. After returning home, I spent the next 24 hours resting, doing everything possible to protect that lone blastocyst.
I cried—often and uncontrollably—while my husband engaged our toddler, offering me the space to mourn my fears.
Then, the call came from the fertility lab—the scientists who work like wizards. “Ms. Carter, we have exciting news! One of your other embryos survived after all! It just needed a bit more time to thaw. We’d like your permission to freeze it again for the future.”
I cried even harder, tears I didn’t think I had left. “Yes, save it!” I exclaimed, suddenly viewing that little cluster of cells as a fighter worth keeping.
I know the day will come when my husband will call me, bill in hand, ready to discuss our frozen embryo. I understand it’s just a collection of cells, but for now, I wish for him to quietly continue paying the bill, hoping that one day I could simply forget that this embryo is waiting—the one that remains.
This article was originally published on April 22, 2016.
For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this informative resource. And if you’re exploring options, Make a Mom offers authoritative advice on home insemination. Additionally, UCSF provides excellent resources for those considering IVF.