This reader’s story of building a family has a dramatic series of ups and downs:
At first I wanted to be silent about my story, but I realized I want to live my truth out in the open. And if I speak up, it might help other families that are struggling in a similar way.
In 2004, I had an unplanned pregnancy and did not want to have children. I was going to a Bioengineering Ph.D. program in Hawaii after my graduation and also getting divorced from my first Russian husband (I am Russian too). So I considered terminating my pregnancy.
Luckily, I decided to keep my baby, and now I have a loving and musically talented 11-year-old son. But I had to give up Hawaii, choosing to become a single working mom (though my degree in biochemistry helped). I always felt guilty that I almost chose to end his life. That is how I became pro-life.
I re-married in 2008 and had two biological children, followed by a miscarriage. I wanted to adopt and was devastated when our adoption did not work out. It is a long and very painful story in itself—one that others judge me for, and some of my friends became my enemies.
Below is an excerpt from that blog post, which chronicles her agonizing process of un-adopting a pair of destitute and deeply traumatized—and traumatizing— young kids:
[My adopted daughter] constantly pushed her boundaries and challenged my authority. She pooped and peed on the floor, destroyed her toys and made holes in her clothes with teeth. She seemed to thrive on chaos and our family’s unhappiness.
Being an intelligent and social little girl, she was getting a lot of attention from strangers, and without any reservation, she would hop on their lap or kiss them. I explained to her that those behaviors are not safe and appropriate, but she continued doing it just to make me angry.
I also noticed that my daughter started hurting my baby behind my back. Once I was in a different room and heard strange noises, and when I walked into the living room, I saw her covering the baby’s mouth and nose. After that, I always carried my baby in a carrier on my chest.
After my failed adoption and miscarriage, and witnessing my father’s death, I was in a very dark place. We tried to have a biological baby again, but I was not conceiving—probably due to all the stress and grief. I went to a fertility clinic and was given a few options.
I chose embryo adoption for multiple reasons. A year after our traditional adoption failed, I wanted another child, and embryo adoption gave us a chance to adopt again but avoid the trauma of mother-child separation from a traditional adoption—which clearly did not work for us.
I did not consider egg donation because my goal was different; I wanted to adopt an embryo that was already created. There are more than a million embryos in storage in this country and, of course, there are ethical questions as what to do with them. I believe that frozen embryos are alive and have a human potential. So my solution would be: Fertilize only as many eggs as women want to transfer and keep the rest frozen. After all, it is a lot less ethically problematic to discard non-fertilized eggs than embryos. (Though yes, it might lead to a lower success rate of pregnancy.)
I chose an anonymous adoption, and the embryo had been frozen for a little less than four years. I am very happy with my decision; I felt it was “meant to be.”