Adoption

Biology

February 12th, 2010

I am not strikingly handsome or a member of Mensa. I will never set a world record or make a scientific breakthrough. I’m not special, and except to me, my wife isn’t either. A baby isn’t any more likely to be extraordinary because the two of us made it. So, is biology important at all?

In many ways, no, biology doesn’t matter. I’m confident I would love a child that’s mine, regardless of their DNA. That’s not the whole story though. Biology isn’t everything, but then again, it’s not nothing. There are definite advantages to creating a baby with your own genetics, both practical and emotional.

Having a child is scary. When you are considering jumping off that precipice, biology at least feels like something you can cling to in a sea of lurking unknown. I can’t know someone else’s medical and family history, proclivities, talents, weaknesses, and afflictions as well as my own. And, while I know my wife less well than myself, you know, we’re pretty tight. There is an element of becoming a parent that’s a gamble, but there is comfort in rolling your own dice.

You don’t have to qualify to have a child of your own. No interviews, social workers, reference letters, lawyers, counsellors, mandatory classes, support groups, criminal record checks, or doctor’s reports. You can argue that the process of qualifying to be a parent is both a good, and in the case of adoption, a necessary thing. I would agree, but the fact of the matter is, it is stressful to be examined with such intensity, and then to put yourself up for scrutiny by mothers, boyfriends, families, and government agencies.

When the woman you love tells you she doesn’t just want to have a baby, she wants to have your baby, that’s visceral. The desire to see your lover’s face reflected in your child is primal. Biology has gravity, there is a pull to it.

DNA, of course, does have concrete influences. Our kid has about a 75% chance of having brown hair and eyes. Who cares? Not us, but that’s not my point. My child would inherit some of my traits, and it is nice to think that they might benefit from some of my better ones. Maybe procreation is the ultimate act of narcissism, I don’t know, but I get the attraction. Biology isn’t everything, but it’s not nothing.

Next week something other than baby stuff I think. I’m trying to write a speech about Empathy for a Toastmasters competition. I’m struggling to find some way to lighten it up a little, the premise is that I could have easily been a killer. Oh, I know right, the laughs keep on coming.

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Choices

February 5th, 2010

There is an interesting talk on TED dealing with how too many options have a negative impact on happiness. It’s more difficult to select a salad dressing when you have a vast array available at your local supermarket. With all those options your expectations are extremely high, and when your choice fails to be perfect, there’s the nagging suspicion that you could have done better, so you are less likely to be happy with your choice. We had a meeting with our fertility doctor yesterday, and I’m feeling like I understand that better.

We could try IVF again. The doctor is surprised / concerned we have not yet been successful, but there is no outstanding reason to wave us off another attempt.

We could try a donor egg. The age of M’s eggs is a factor, and none have successfully implanted. The doc thinks this is our best chance to get M pregnant.

We could try donor sperm. The advantage here is this is a less complicated / expensive procedure, and we could take a few tries at it.

We could do IVF with a surrogate (with or without implanting M at the same time). This increases our chances, but clearly adds complexity, and affects other people’s lives.

We could give up fertility treatments and carry through with the adoption process we have started. This opens up a whole new series of choices: age, race, nationality.

Each choice has different benefits, risks, costs, success rates, and schedules. On top of all that are some serious and hard to answer personal questions about what having a child is all about, what is important, how badly does M want to be pregnant, and how do we feel about biology. We will have to make a choice from all those options, and it’s a decision with a lot of variables. It’s overwhelming. It really is. I have less of an idea about what we should do than I did before the meeting.

If you got pregnant by sharing a bottle of wine and an orgasm. Nice work. I’m envious.

The paradox of choice – TED

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The Plan

January 18th, 2010

When does The Plan stop being The Plan? We anticipate, create visions, project into the future, it’s a uniquely human curse. When The Plan fails to mesh with real life do you revise it, abandon it, or create a new one?

When we first started In Vitro Fertilization we secretly entertained notions of an easy home run. IVF overcame the vasectomy, which was the only hurdle we foresaw, and we’ve had excellent news at every step, except, of course, the final result. We have not decided if we will continue with the process.

Science provides other options. The doctor has suggested a surrogate, and to my great shock, we’ve had several volunteers. I’m still trying to get my head around the idea. It seems, extreme, and it involves other people in a process we’ve found to be stressful and highly emotional. No decisions here either.

The initial stage of the adoption process is a report that takes up to half a year to complete. We are going to get started on that in case it is what we decide to do. It’s always been our back-up plan.

The Plan still is. Same destination, different route.

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