A Letter to Our Embryos

Dear Embryos,
I don't know what to say or how to even begin this. I mean, how does a mother write a letter to her 14 children that she's yet to meet? My heart aches as I write this and I'm yearning for you. To hold you. To soothe you. To know you. I never thought that I would be in this position or that I'd be writing a letter like this. But I am.
I've been thinking about you a lot lately and if I'm being honest, I'm thinking about you a lot more than I ever expected to. Ya see, when we were first starting the process of IVF, I had people tell me how tough it would be to have embryos waiting on you, but I don't think I ever really grasped how utterly true that was until after we had you.
After our egg retrieval, we were so blown away to hear that we had 15 miracle embabies. 15! We were humbled and gracious and overwhelmed and well, I think it's safe to say that we felt every emotion possible. After the dust of the excitement settled a little bit, I think it finally hit me.
We have 15 children.
15 children.
And the horrible truth is: we aren't sure that we'll be able to meet all of you.
At least, not on this side of Heaven. Can I tell you how hard it is to digest that? I'm not even going to sit here and pretend that I've fully digested and accepted that fact like I'm okay with it, because I haven't and I'm not. I was torn with this idea from the very beginning and as soon as your brother, Aspen, was born- this immediately became the hardest thing I'll ever have to do in my life.
Your brother is here with us and he is doing immensely well! He's grown so much and he's learning more and more every single day. His smile is contagious and his personality is blooming to show that he is a kind, caring, compassionate, goofy, amazing little boy. Every minute that I have with him is deeply cherished and I wouldn't trade my time with him for anything in the entire world.
But with every smile, laugh, or snuggle that I have with him, my heart aches for you- all of you.
Because I want to sit and bask in these special moments with all of you. I want to watch you grow and learn. I want to see all of the little -isms that make you, YOU. What would make you laugh? What would make you cry? What is the God-given purpose that's been placed upon your life? I want all of you to come into our home so that you can meet your siblings and your mommy and daddy. I have this vision of all 17 of us crammed into one house, spending our days together and building the Kingdom of God. Your dad and I would be exhausted by the end of each day, yet in the best way possible because- oh my gosh- my heart would be so FULL. And I'm also assuming that with 15 kiddos, our bed would be pretty full at night, too.
I want us all to be together. I don't want to think about the "what if's" or the finances or the complications this new and crazy life would bestow upon us. I don't want to think about losing some of you during the thawing process or even during pregnancy. I don't want to think about the toll that so many pregnancies would take on my body- especially as I continue to get older. I don't want to think about you belonging to someone else. I don't want to think about the negatives. I don't want to think about anything other than the fact that I want you, I want all of you.
I want to keep my children and I don't want to think about anything further than that.
Unfortunately, that's not the hand that your dad and I have been dealt. In our inability to conceive, our family plans were postponed and are radically different than what we envisioned for ourselves. Instead of getting pregnant on our own, we had to seek the help and opinions of various doctors in order to pursue our family building. Sadly, in order to come back for you, we must plan ahead and, in our limited understanding, we aren't sure that we'll able to come back for all of you.
Infertility can be so cruel. We've spent years waiting for you and now . . . you'll spend years waiting on us.
It's not fair and I wish things were different. I wish it didn't have to be this way for our family. I wish that I could hug your neck and tell you how deeply you're wanted by your dad and me. Because that's the truth. We want you. Every single one of you. We love you and care for you more than you will ever know.
The thought of not meeting some of you in this life rips me apart, but I do find some solace in knowing that I will meet you and see you in Heaven. Our family will finally be together and we will dance in the light of the Lord.
You're my babies. Whether I have the incredible experience of carrying you in my womb or not, you are my baby and I will always cherish you. And as your mother, there are a few things that I want you to know now in case I never have the chance to tell you myself:
You are a fighter. You are a warrior. You are wanted. You are loved. You were created for a purpose. Your purpose will change this world, so grab a hold of God's hand and never let go. Lastly, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You fought through so much to be here, just to LIVE. And if you ever have an inkling of doubt about how strong you are, I want you to remember that. You fought so hard just to LIVE. Anything this life throws at you, you will be able to overcome because you are a mighty warrior and I believe in you.
I write this fully knowing that I will not have the ability to meet all of you, though I wish I could. I write this while fully aware of every possible situation that could happen from here on out, but I write this with a lot of hope. Hope for you. Hope for your future. And hoping that you know- deep down inside- that while you may not be in my arms, you will forever be in my heart and in my prayers. If I never have the honor to meet you on earth, I hope you still feel my love for you- wherever you are.
To my embabies, I love you with everything I have in me. I wouldn't trade our story or our family for anything in this world because without it, I wouldn't have you.
I love you.
Your Mama
Dear Reader,
Please remember that this is not a work of fiction. In fact, this is a work that came from the very bottom of my heart, the depths of my soul. I've welcomed you in to my heart and into one of the most vulnerable parts of my life. In turn, please do not mock or judge. These thoughts and feelings and emotions are not limited to myself and my husband. There are millions of people all around the world that are struggling through the same thing and I share this piece simply to expose infertility for the challenge that it is. The feelings of infertility are not singular, they are constant and they continue to come up in our life even though we've been blessed to have a child earth-side. In our efforts to break stigmas and raise awareness, we are opening ourselves up in a vulnerable manner. All we ask is that you help us continue to raise awareness and have respect and support for our community.
Thank you for being here.
The Booes