HOW WE GOT HERE — AND WHERE WE ARE GOING

The eternal stars shine out again, so soon as it is dark enough.

— Thomas Carlyle

In this chapter, you will learn

• How fertility issues affect all US families, even those with biological children

• How in vitro fertilization (IVF) has helped couples conceive while also creating unintended consequences that should be considered

• How your personal journey, like mine, is one that will necessarily expose you to the moral question of what should happen to embryos that are not immediately transferred to a mother's uterus

• How this book will coach you through the process of embryo adoption from start to finish

I don't make a habit of discussing reproductive health with friends and family, much less casual acquaintances. I have a hard enough time discussing such matters with my wife. But I am making an exception for you because you, having opened this book, are interested in building a family. You are interested in having babies. You are probably curious to know what embryo adoption is and whether your own family should seriously consider it.

As someone whose family has taken the embryo adoption journey, I want to help you answer those questions, as well as some you probably haven't thought of. I am holding my daughter in my arms as I write this. (Cradling a baby in the crook of my elbows while typing is one of the few fine arts I have mastered.) As you can imagine, she is well worth every effort. To begin this journey, you must know where other couples have been before you — and where you are going.

Even before we were married, Julie and I had thought about adoption. We didn't know where those thoughts would lead us, and it took us a decade to find out.

Before I share some of the research that will help explain how embryo adoption developed, it would probably help you to understand my family's unique perspective. You deserve to know our circumstances because they are potentially unlike your own. All of us approach the concept of family in different ways.

Julie and I are both proud graduates of the University of Missouri. Our relationship blossomed on campus, at church, and during outings in her tri-tone ramshackle pickup truck. We enjoyed Tiger Stripe ice cream, Mizzou football games (with low expectations of victory, of course), and the sight of the six columns that once upheld Academic Hall in the center of The Quad.

As an aspiringly chaste Christian couple, sex never took a prominent place in conversation around the dinner table, with a few exceptions. Julie holds degrees in animal science and reproductive physiology, so our conversations occasionally veered to include a survey of the unusual mating habits of opossums, raccoons, and other of God's bizarre mammals.

Unusual? Certainly.

Intriguing? Without question.

Relevant to mankind? Not particularly.

As our wedding day approached, the topic of human children took on a more serious tone. We both come from families of four children each and agreed that would be a reasonable amount for our own household. Two would be acceptable. We didn't consider only one child simply because we felt the need for increased socialization and — perhaps more selfishly — another person to bear some of the constant nagging and incessant neediness of little people. I jest (slightly).

We discussed adoption and even foster children, if only briefly. We had some personal experience: my cousin, adopted from South Korea, is a gem. I knew firsthand the joy of family defined beyond the simple boundaries of genetics.

But here is where our lives might diverge from your own. Many couples we have encountered seek information about adoption because they are unable to conceive. If this describes you, rest assured you are not alone. More than six million US couples of child-bearing age — roughly one in ten of such couples — struggle with infertility, according to the American Pregnancy Association.

Julie and I are thankful we never faced infertility. In fact, after three years of marriage, we welcomed our oldest son, Micah; our next son, Titus, the following November; and our third son, Ezra, two years later. We discovered that with each additional child, our acquaintances became emboldened and inquired, cheekily, whether we understand the basics of abstinence. This, of course, stirred my competitive spirit to the point of wanting to continue having children simply to deepen our friends' discomfort. But I digress. It is not a good idea to welcome little people into the world simply to prove you can. It is only a good idea if you have the wherewithal to bring children into the world because it enriches your family and becomes a moral obligation you will gladly bear.

The Bible says Elijah heard God's calling as a still, small voice. We heard no such voice on our journey to adoption. Yet we certainly felt the effects of God's commands to care for one of our world's most vulnerable groups of people — children, including those not yet carried to term — and to do so through adoption. That is the point at which our daughter, Phoebe, entered the picture. She screamed her little lungs out, taking her first breaths in the operating room two days before our tenth wedding anniversary. This was all because of another precious family's experience with infertility and the consequences of a life-creating technology known as in vitro fertilization (IVF).

Infertility has shaped the lives of many US families, including our own.

Although Julie and I have never experienced infertility directly, our respective families had acute encounters with it. Today, despite many advances in medical science and technology that have made childbirth safer, tremendous challenges persist.

Our family's fertility experiences are not unusual, but I feel they are important to the conversation. Let me share two examples. First, my mother suffered a miscarriage before I was born. It is not something we have discussed in detail, but knowing my...