Stem Cells, the Miracles of Science, and the Joy of Parenting

Lessons from barrenness about a controversial issue, part I
Published in Christian Renewal magazine, 13 Dec 2006

As I begin writing this article, I am in the hospital after the birth of my first child, a boy. This is, of course, an exciting time for us, especially since we never anticipated how difficult it would be for us to have a child. We had been married for just over two years when my wife underwent a serious emergency surgery. The verdict: endometriosis had rendered her infertile.

This was a massive blow to us. Both of us had been eager to have a big family even before we had met. We wholeheartedly believed that raising a family is among the highest callings on a Christian’s life—indeed, one of the most important ministries that God has given his people. Which is the better investment, we asked: building earthly kingdoms and acquiring temporal widgets, or shaping eternal souls? We took seriously the Scripture’s testimony that children are a blessing from the Lord, and we had planned to fill our quiver with arrows. What a powerful weapon the family could be, we believed, for the kingdom of Christ!

But we would not be having any children. It was as if all our plans and priorities had been wiped out. The pain was almost overwhelming.

Many people have gone through infertility. We were very open about our situation, and it was surprising how many people we knew had gone through similar struggles. It seemed to us that struggles with infertility were perhaps especially common among Christians—maybe it somehow relates to the repeated biblical image of childlessness. Many people were very encouraging to us, and by God’s grace our openness about circumstance seemed to help several people, but we had no idea what God was about to do with us.

Our doctors (we had visited well over a dozen during my wife’s illness) told us that we were excellent candidates for in-vitro fertilization (IVF), but some of the details associated with the IVF procedure made us uncomfortable. Among other things, if we tried to have a baby through IVF, we would almost certainly have extra embryos. We learned that there are more than 400,000 embryos in the United States alone that are left over from IVF procedures and have been preserved by cryogenic freezing. Some of these embryos will be used by their parents in future IVF procedures, but most will be eventually discarded or donated to research. Even if parents decided to use their frozen embryos for an in-vitro fertilization procedure, only about half would survive the thawing process.

Knowing what we did about IVF, would it be right for us to undergo the procedure? The promise of having our very own children made us want to do so desperately, but our consciences were troubled by what we had learned. Our dilemma caused us to go back numerous times and rethink many of our assumptions about human life, the practice of science, and the biblical perspective on our situation.

We read anything we could about IVF—everything from medical journals, articles, and legislation to sermons. We repeatedly reasoned through the implications of what we read and sought guidance from the Scriptures. When exactly does human life begin? That was the most important question to us, for we were committed to the idea that human life is to be valued and preserved above all else. If these tiny embryos produced by the IVF procedure were human beings, our decision would be clear, though not necessarily easy.

But what if our assumption about the humanness of embryos was wrong? Were we needlessly splitting hairs? Should we instead joyfully proceed with the incredible technological assistance that God had made possible to us?

After much deliberation, many tears, and more than one sleepless night, we concluded that human life does indeed begin at conception and that although IVF is not intrinsically wrong, we could not in good conscience do it. There were several aspects of the procedure that seemed to deal carelessly with human life, but since most doctors viewed them as simply standard procedure, we could not trust that it would be done in a way that respects the embryos as human beings. We began the paperwork for an adoption instead.

Before we were matched with a child to adopt, however, a friend told us about a television special she had seen about embryo adoption. A handful of families scattered across the United States, we learned, had adopted embryos left over from another couple’s IVF procedure, carried them as if they were their own, and given birth to children. This struck us as a rather strange idea at first. How would we feel about giving birth to an adopted child, and how do you explain to people that you have given birth to a genetically unrelated child?

The more we thought about embryo adoption, however, the more we leaned toward trying it. If we have committed ourselves to the idea that life begins at conception, we asked, should we not view these frozen embryos as human beings? And if they are human beings, should they not have a chance at life instead of being eventually discarded or used as microscopic guinea pigs? We began to see that these tiny babies might be a tremendous testimony to the value of human life even at its earliest stage.

With a simultaneous feeling of both joy and anxiety, we proceeded to adopt three embryos. Despite a probability of less than 15%, all three survived the thawing process and were transferred. After a few weeks, a simple pregnancy test confirmed that my wife was pregnant, and a later ultrasound informed us that just one embryo had successfully transferred. I will never forget the mixture of delight and sadness that came with that news. It is not often that a parent learns in one moment that he has gained one child and lost two, but they were all three in God’s hands. He gives and takes away, and in both cases we bless his name.

And now our beautiful son is born—he is even now in the next room crying instead of sleeping, which is why I am up writing an article in the middle of the night. I thank God for this experience as it taught us many things that we would have otherwise never considered.

This article is the first of a series born out of the things we learned through this process. Subsequent articles will discuss the origin and value of human life and the implications of those ideas for one of the more controversial issues of our day: embryonic stem cell research and its social, political, and ethical consequences.

We chose our son’s name based on its meaning: Iain Zechariah means, “The LORD is gracious; he has remembered me.” The name is true of this barren couple, who have been given a child by the Lord. It is true of our son, who was once in a freezer, but was given renewed life. And now our prayer is that it will be true of him in a spiritual sense as well.

We are often asked if we plan to adopt more embryos. Our desire is still for a full quiver, so we would not mind doing so. For reasons financial and otherwise, however, we will probably not be able to do an embryo or traditional adoption in the near future. But regardless of God’s future plans for us, this one child alone is enough to bring us before the throne of heaven in praise.

A source of helpful information on embryo adoption is the Snowflake program at Nightlight Adoptions.