Center for Assisted Reproduction Embryo.net

I still remember the doctor's face during my annual well-woman's check-up when I was 41 years old. I had just shared with him that I would like to have another child. His tone changed to a very monotone, Dr. Spock articulation and he developed a sort of "deer-in-the-headlight" expression. "The odds are not good," he said, and my heart sank. My oldest biological child had been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness at age 7. Although my desire to add to our family was still strong, my husband's desire was not. For him, the equation became, "Children equal pain -- the worst pain ever." Our firstborn had to undergo grueling, disfiguring treatments and was not expected to live. We were told that it would be a long, slow process. The brain tumor that the neurosurgeon had removed would almost surely grow back, and because she had metastases down her spinal column that required full brain/spine radiation, future treatment options were limited. They could operate again. And possi