The Southern Baptist Convention recently voted against the use of assisted reproductive technology. As a former member, that decision is weighing heavily on me.
Most people in Los Angeles spend their Saturdays at the beach in the summer. I spend mine sitting on a bench outside a fertility clinic, praying to be pregnant.
It’s been almost four years since my husband, Anthony, and I started trying for a baby. Like many couples, we thought time was on our side, so we spent our 20s getting degrees and advancing our careers. Kids would happen “someday”; we assumed we’d have two or three. In the meantime, we relished becoming the fun uncle, and the cool aunt.
A few weeks after my 30th birthday, I scheduled an appointment to remove my IUD. Anthony had just turned 34. “Hopefully I’ll see you in a couple of months!” my gynecologist said before sending us off with recommendations for prenatal vitamins. Little did she know we would see her and so many other doctors frequently in the coming years, but never once for a pregnancy.
