Editor’s note: this submission is anonymous because the author’s partner works at a hospital with a closed IVF clinic.
On Friday, February 16, the Alabama state Supreme Court issued a ruling that ended in-vitro fertilization in the state as we know it. The fallout is already happening. Multiple clinics have announced that they are pausing IVF out of fear that their doctors or the families they serve could be subject to criminal prosecution.
For almost every person involved, IVF does not not feel like a choice, but a last hope at growing a family. It is time-consuming, prohibitively expensive, exhaustive, and wreaks havoc on a woman’s mental and physical health. The decision to go through IVF happens because there are no other options left. In a matter that is often tied to the word “choice,” it certainly doesn’t feel like one.
I understand this feeling because I’m one of the thousands of people who has gone through it. When my partner and I were married, we wanted to have a child together more than anything. We had not found each other until we were in our early 40s, but nonetheless wanted the same things many other couples do when they decide to build a life together. We took all the steps: testing, the medications, intrauterine insemination. We went through the highs of good news, the hope during waiting, and with each negative pregnancy test, grief. When those didn’t work, we tried IVF, which meant endless appointments and thousands of dollars in medications. All told, we spend close to $15,000 on the process, which is nothing compared to what some couples spend — and that was just one cycle up to egg retrieval and embryonic testing.
12, 10, 8, 4- the numbers of our cycle: twelve eggs retrieved, ten fertilized, eight pushed through, and finally, four that made it to the acceptable stage for transfer. Due to our age and the fact that we did not intend to do multiple egg retrievals, we sent samples of the four to a lab for genetic testing. We wanted to increase our chances of a successful pregnancy and avoid any further loss. The results of testing could predict with 97% accuracy any genetic issues that might lead to miscarriage or serious developmental issues for the eventual fetus. When we got the results of the genetic tests back — on Valentine’s Day — they were devastating. None of them were okay. Three weren’t viable at all, while the fourth showed major abnormalities and would most likely result in a miscarriage. In one phone call, our journey was over. It took a long time to come to terms with what we had been through to only be back where we started: in love, desiring to build a family, but leaving empty-handed.
Our clinic includes a year of preservation included in the initial fees. While our intake paperwork addressed what to do in case of divorce or death- we chose “donate to research”- we still needed to submit additional consents to pull the trigger.
That year came up a week ago.
What happens to these embryos now? Will hospitals have to hold onto them indefinitely? Will my partner and I have to pay to keep them frozen for the rest of our lives? What happens in the event of our deaths or our inability to transfer them into my uterus? Does the state intend to “take custody” and offer up our damaged genetic material to other people? Will we become criminals because we did not give our “extrauterine children” an opportunity to develop into the next stage of being human? Could doctors, who gave thousands of families like mine hope- even when there was none to be had- be held civilly and criminally liable if frozen embryos do not result in a live birth? Legions of people throughout the state are wrestling with these same questions.
And unless we do something, it’s not going to end there. Even now, similar legal arguments are being made in Florida to declare that frozen embryos are children. Unless people across the U.S. speak up, IVF may disappear entirely.
I’ve lived in Alabama my whole life, as did my parents and grandparents. Our state motto translates to “we dare defend our rights,” and it’s time we lived up to it. It’s time we let our politicians know that the decision of whether and how to have children should be between people and their doctors.
People don’t like to talk about infertility, yet one in six U.S. adults experiences it. Millions of Americans every year seek IVF treatment. You know them, even if they haven’t shared their journey with you. Children born of the earliest successful attempts at IVF are parents themselves, with even more running around schools and parks. They are dreams realized. If we want to be able to shape our futures as parents and a society, we have to speak up. All of us who care about our rights need to share our stories and make our voices heard.
Friday’s ruling won’t feed a single child. It won’t put a roof over a single child’s head, provide them with healthcare or place them with loving parents. All it does is punish those who do.