I’m not surprised that the world hates embryo adoption. Overwhelmingly, Christians are the ones who adopt embryos remaining from IVF cycles, and the devil hates babies who will be raised in Christian homes.
What has shocked me are those professing Christians who hate embryo adoption.
Perhaps you’re thinking that no Christian hates adoption. No one who claims to follow Christ really thinks it’s better for a baby to die than to be adopted into a loving Christian home. I thought that as well until a 10 second video of my adopted babies went viral. More than 5 million people have seen it and continue to engage with it.
The Logical Fallacy of the False Dichotomy
On one side is the world — the people who hate unborn babies but ironically pretend to be their biggest advocates once they’re born. This camp argues that embryos are not humans, they feel nothing, and they do not deserve a family as much as a child already born. They argue bringing children into the world in this way is satisfying a selfish desire to be pregnant and give birth. They commit a logical fallacy by claiming that if you adopt a child in his or her earliest stage and tiniest form, you don’t care about other children.
Why didn’t you adopt a living child?
Imagine being a child in foster care finding out someone chose a clump of cells over you.
If you’re pro-life, why don’t you care about kids in the system?
You’re selfish for wanting to be pregnant.
You should give them back to their real parents.
You stole embryos from another woman.
You didn’t want a child with issues.
You deprived them of their genetic history.
These are just a handful of the many ignorant comments I’ve received, but as I’ve interacted with them, I’ve found that it’s impossible to earn their seal of approval. If you adopt an embryo, you should’ve adopted a “real baby.” If you adopt a baby, you must not care about teens. If you adopt a teen, you took them from their family. If you adopt internationally, you hate domestic children. The best part is that the vast majority of these keyboard warriors have never adopted, fostered, or served orphans in any way. But again, this is not surprising behavior from the world.
Holier Than Thou
On the other side are the self righteous zealots who argue that if you adopt embryos, you are participating in an evil industry. They agree that life begins at fertilization and that every person is made in the image of God, but they unashamedly advocate for these babies to be left to die in a freezer so as not to enable the IVF dilemma. These are the present-day Pharisees. They are far too holy and self-righteous to participate in something that might be messy or carry baggage. Instead, they sit behind their screens and condemn others.
To this group I would ask — are the only adoptable orphans those whose parents were innocent? What about the child who was abused or neglected? The child whose mom uses drugs? The one whose dad is in prison? Are we participating in abuse, neglect, drug use, or criminal activity if we adopt children out of these circumstances? Should babies suffer so that we as Christians don’t enable the bad behavior of their parents?
A Side Note About IVF
Now, it should go without saying (but nothing seems to go without saying these days so I will say it explicitly) that I am NOT comparing IVF to any of the things I listed above. While I do believe there are ethical concerns with IVF, particularly as it is commonly practiced in the United States, it is mostly done by good, loving couples who long for a baby. My heart breaks for the husband and wife who go through IVF and aren’t informed by their doctor that they will be creating far more embryos than they ever intend to transfer. I can’t fathom getting a letter in the mail saying it’s time to transfer, destroy, or put my embryos up for adoption once I’m past the age of bearing children.
Their Story for God’s Glory
Many of my new internet “friends” have chided me for sharing Walt and Lumi’s story, but I have believed and continue to trust that God is going to use their testimonies in a mighty way to advance His kingdom and bring glory to Him. Embryo adoption is such a unique and confusing process, but it’s also beautiful and redemptive and amazing. It’s one I obviously feel so passionate about. There are millions of babies cryopreserved, sitting in a freezer, waiting to be adopted. Waiting for the warmth of a mama’s womb where they can grow into the image-bearers God created them to be.
Adoption can, at times, be painful for all involved, but it is a beautiful picture of the gospel.
Because of the Father’s love for Christ, the Father has adopted us into the royal family, making us joint heirs with Christ. We are beloved of the Father because He is beloved of the Father, and we ought never to forget that. He is the eternal object of the Father’s affection, and we are the Father’s gifts of love to His Son. We are adopted by the Father in Christ, and the Father loves us because we are in the Son.
R.C. Sproul
Not everyone is called to adopt embryos — not everyone is called to adopt period. But if we are Christians, we are called to care for orphans.
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.
James 1:27
This might not involve fostering or adopting in your home. Perhaps it includes helping to meet their needs financially, serving them with your time, or advocating for them. I don’t know what that looks like for you and your family according to your own conscience, but I do not with certainty is that it does not include arguing that it’s better for them to die than to be adopted.
Throughout my pregnancy, I’ve prayed that I would make it to full term. Each week was a milestone celebration. I was looking forward to reaching the point of viability until we learned about Walt’s diagnosis and heard that he most likely would not survive at 24 weeks because of his heart condition. At that point, each week was a reminder that he still needed to stay in longer. We found ourselves holding our breath, praying for them to both continue growing inside my womb. Walt needed to be a certain weight for surgery, and he would be safest the longer he could develop inside.
My midwives have coached me from the start on what I can do to help the babies stay in as long as possible. Of course there are some things that can’t be prevented, and we all recognized that, but I was determined to do my best with what I could control. For me that involved eating healthy, prioritizing protein, avoiding processed foods, quitting caffeine and soda cold turkey, taking a bazillion supplements, drinking a daily protein smoothie that tastes gross, exercising on the yoga ball…you get the picture.
All of that effort was to get to full term. It was to allow my babies to come in their own timing once their little bodies and lungs fully developed. It wasn’t to get them close to full term and then evict them with drugs once we reached a certain date on the calendar.
I’ve gotten much feedback about my decision not to induce without a legitimate medical reason. Some are supportive, understanding the cons. Others are concerned, thinking I’m just being stubborn.
First of all, I’m 37 weeks, and no one has wanted me to induce now. What doctors would like is to schedule an induction between 38-39 weeks. What that tells me is that there’s no emergency or true medical reason. Instead, it’s the hospital’s normal protocol. “We don’t let twins go past 38 weeks.” That is a normal response from OBs when dealing with a twin mom. Why? Because it’s what they’ve been taught. Their primary goal is to limit liability and create as predictable an environment as possible. The vast majority have not witnessed a natural, physiological birth outside of a sterile hospital setting.
The medical system likes inductions because they’re scheduled. It makes doctors feel in control of a naturally wild situation. It reduces variability in a process where variation is the norm.
Why do I not like inductions? It’s asking a woman’s body and baby to do something they’re not ready to do. Pitocin makes contractions stronger and more constant. And because it’s not natural, it so often ends in a “failure to progress” diagnosis. Mom’s body is accused of not being able to do what it was made to do. The baby’s heart rate drops, the woman’s body goes into distress, and both are rushed off for an emergency c-section. Then, afterwards, people will say, “It’s so good you were at the hospital!” even though it’s the hospital that caused the cascade of problems in the first place.
Medical interventions can be necessary in some situations, and I’m open to that. For anyone to suggest that my babies are not my absolute highest priority is offensive. I would die for them, so I would certainly suffer through stronger contractions or a surgical recovery for them. I make my decisions based on the pros and cons of any given intervention.
I’m not trying to prove anything. I’ve already given up my ideal birth. I’ve given up laboring in the peace and comfort of my own home. I’ve given up on the idea that there will only be a few people in the room. I’ve given up the feeling of safety that comes from laboring and pushing in darkness and quiet. If you’ve never listened to Dr. Stu, I highly recommend his Birthing Instincts podcast. He talks about how all mammals instinctually go to a quiet place by themselves to give birth, and if they are interrupted by a predator (or even a loud child), adrenaline kicks in, causing their labor to stall until they feel safe again. Humans are the same, though our culture has largely forgotten those principles.
Instead of a peaceful, safe environment, I’ll be in an operating room with bright lights and everyone and their brother in the room. Instead of eating when I feel hungry and drinking when I’m thirsty, I’ll be sneaking in my own snacks. Instead of waiting to give birth to my placentas, nurses will tug on the cords, increasing the risk of hemorrhaging. Instead of knowing with certainty that my providers will wait until the babies’ cords stop pulsing to clamp them, I’ll have to be on guard to make sure they don’t just follow protocol, reducing the stem cells and blood volume my babies receive. Instead of being confident that I’ll have immediate skin-to-skin contact with my babies with no baths or hats, I’ll have to be alert, ensuring that our wishes are followed as closely as possible so long as there’s no real emergency.
I didn’t want to have to advocate for myself during birth. I wanted a physiological, instinctual birth…the kind women have been experiencing for thousands of years. But I gave all that up because one of my babies needs expert care shortly after birth. I moved out of state to a house I’d never seen and established care with new providers at 36 weeks for my babies. I left my family, my pets, my church, and everything familiar — and it’s all 100% worth it.
But know that when I say I’m not agreeing to a routine induction just because we’ve reached a certain date on the calendar, it’s not because I’m being stubborn or trying to prove something. It’s because I’ve researched, talked to experts on both sides, and have prayerfully made a decision. There are no guarantees in life, and every decision, particularly those involving the tiny humans I’ve grown in my womb for nine months and love with all of my being, is heavy. We trust God’s sovereignty and rest in knowing that there’s no decision we can make to thwart His plans. While we feel the responsibility of stewarding them well and advocating for them as best we can, we know that ultimately He is guiding their lives.
“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.” Job 42:2
National Infertility Awareness Week is April 20-26, 2025. One in six couples struggle with infertility, so unfortunately it is not a rare occurrence. Genetic conditions, toxic overload, medications, and poor nutrition have contributed to this epidemic.
I recently shared a blog post about mine and Perry’s journey with infertility. Finding out you will likely never bear children who are genetically related to you is heartbreaking. God gave humans a natural desire to have children, and it is a good longing. We should not flippantly dismiss such a diagnosis, and I believe there should be far more efforts to find answers than to push people into IVF and other forms of assisted reproduction.
I had a doctor laugh in my face when I asked if Perry’s condition could be improved by diet or exercise or even if it could have been caused by a childhood surgery. The doctor had no answers other than to go straight to in vitro fertilization; he was not interested in getting to the root cause of the issue. I can only assume that’s because finding the root cause would not have benefitted him financially.
Processing the news that you may never have children who share your physical or emotional characteristics is a lot to digest. It’s heavy, and it should be.
However, through the grief of infertility, we have been immensely blessed. How can this be? How can blessing be coupled with heartache? If the Lord had given us children who share our DNA, we likely never would’ve pursued embryo adoption.
When I think about not having Walt and Lumi and their four siblings who sadly didn’t survive the thaw and their little sibling who is still cryopreserved in a test tube, my heart breaks. Nothing could make these babies any more ours than they already are. We wholeheartedly believe God placed these babies in our family before He laid the foundation of the earth. They’ve always been ours; God always intended for us to raise them, and we couldn’t be more honored.
For us, embryo adoption was not our backup plan or a last resort. However, I’m just not sure it would’ve entered into our minds as an option if we’d had genetic children. As I mentioned in the post about our own infertility journey, I didn’t grieve the idea of not having children genetically related to me as much as Perry did. I’m so thankful for that blessing, because I know that’s not everyone’s experience. I just had such a peace that can only be explained in the Lord. I fully trusted that because the Bible promises that children are a blessing, that God would give me a child.
As I came to learn about embryo adoption, I was certain this was the path for us. Perry took a bit more convincing, but he was open-minded the whole time. As silly as it might sound, I felt connected to my embryos as soon as I learned about the process. I knew in my heart that I had babies sitting in a freezer in Knoxville, Tennessee. From that point forward, I felt so burdened by “leaving” them on ice, even though we had no clue who “they” were. In fact, we hadn’t even been approved to adopt or gained access to the embryo database!
Still, I knew there were babies waiting for me.
I’d waited years, longing for a baby. Then it seemed like we’d found the perfect path forward, and God put my plans on hold once again through Perry’s stroke. Throughout his recovery, I knew why Perry wasn’t ready to pursue embryo adoption, and I respected it. On some level, I agreed with it. He wanted to make sure he could take care of himself and me before we added little ones to the mix, and given his circumstances, I think that was very wise. Still, it felt like our family was in limbo.
I was always drawn to the idea of adopting “older” embryos, which meant the whole time, I knew they were just sitting on ice waiting for me. When Perry (somewhat reluctantly) agreed that we could move forward, I was elated. I shared about that process in this blog post.
Personally, I never have moments of longing for a child that shares my genetics. I don’t say that to insinuate that others who adopt don’t feel that longing or that there’s anything whatsoever wrong with that desire. As I said before, it is natural and God-given. I say that simply to put the kindness of God on display. I prayed many times as we cried out for children that God would replace the desires of my heart with His; that He would mold my will to His. In this case, it is evident that he answered that prayer.
His will was that we would adopt Walt, Lumi, and their five siblings who had been frozen in tubes since 1999. He led us on quite the journey to get to them, and the adventure will continue for the rest of our lives. But for us, infertility is a blessing.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or understand, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21
A Mundane Monday
Monday, September 19, 2022 was just a normal day. Perry was home since Mondays were his Saturdays at UPS, and I was at work. Four days earlier, Perry turned 31. I’d been feeling guilty that week for not planning a party or doing much to celebrate. We ate at Double Dogs with my parents on his birthday. The next day we saw Joan Jett in concert, though that was more for my benefit than his. We ate at Aubrey’s with my grandparents, and on Monday, we planned to meet his parents at Pizza Inn. Still, I just felt like I wasn’t in a great mood and was having a hard time getting motivated. I wrote in my Bible study journal that I hoped he knew how much I loved and appreciated him.
I met my dad for lunch, and while I was there, Perry texted me a screen shot of a 1940s retro stove he found on Facebook Marketplace. It was a crazy busy day at work, as most of them were, so I left the office later than I meant to. I tried calling Perry to tell him I was on my way, but he didn’t answer. I assumed he was driving Huey Lewis, our 1986 diesel engine Blazer, and just couldn’t hear his phone. Since he didn’t answer, I responded to my cousin’s latest Marco Polo, and I remember telling her that I felt guilty because I just felt off. I was so blessed and everyone I loved most in the world was happy and healthy, so I shouldn’t feel sad. I had no idea that a piece of me was almost dead as I spoke.
A Tragedy Strikes
When I got to Pizza Inn and walked in, his parents were sitting at a table near the entrance. I asked if they’d heard from him and they said no. I went outside to call again. When I didn’t get him, I opened my home security app. Panic started to set in. Our indoor camera was on the ground so that we could see our pets but so that if we forgot to turn it off while we were home, hackers couldn’t see us. My heart sank in a way I’d never felt before. Perry was there, right in front of the camera, with his head rolling back and forth across his chest. I called out to him, and he responded, “Hello? Hello?”
I immediately called 911 and told them I didn’t know what was wrong but that my husband was nearly unconscious at home. I ran back inside to get my keys, told his parents something was wrong, got in my car, and called my mom. She was home, which meant she was just a few minutes from him. I hysterically asked her to go to our house. I hung up and prayed. “Lord, keep him safe, protect him, please let me get there without wrecking.” In the midst of panic, I was constantly reminded of God’s sovereignty.
Mom called when she got to the house and I heard her calling Perry’s name, trying to get him to wake up. She put me on speaker and I said his name. He started saying hello again and looking for me. I hung up as I was about to turn onto our road, because I knew I would lose cell service. I quickly called my Grandma who also lives nearby and told her through sobs that something was wrong with Perry and to please pray.
A Kindness of God
In God’s sovereignty, I made it home without wrecking. I got from the Pizza Inn on Clinton Highway to Anderson County in less time than the ambulance. When I pulled into the driveway, I got out of the car, kicked my heels off, and ran inside. I will never forget the look in Perry’s eyes, as if he wondered why I hadn’t been there sooner and what was happening to him. He kept saying, “I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel my legs.” His face was drooping on one side, his right arm was numb, and he couldn’t feel his right leg.
A Lack of Urgency
I put Lani, our rescue mutt, in the bathroom because I knew she wouldn’t like the EMTs if they ever arrived. Two men finally walked in, and I’ve never seen people move with such a lack of purpose. They wandered through the door and stood over Perry. I’d never witnessed anyone having a stroke, but I knew immediately when I saw Perry that’s what was happening. I imagine these two had some preconceived notions about why a 31 year old male was experiencing a medical crisis.
They finally loaded him onto a stretcher chair to carry him down our deck stairs and got him on a regular stretcher. There was still no sense of urgency, and they made sure to tell me I couldn’t ride in the ambulance with him. When asked where I wanted them to take him, I said, “Not Methodist, so I guess Parkwest.” Then they told me my options were UT or Fort Sanders. Perry worked at UT Medical for eight years, so that’s what I chose.
In the meantime, Grandma and Grandpa got there and thankfully had a jacket in their car, since I would wear it for the next two weeks straight. I sent a message to the group chat with the ladies at our church (which we’d just joined a few months prior). Mom and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I cried out to God, “You are sovereign; You are all powerful; You are in control. Please protect Perry.” We arrived at the same time as the ambulance without speeding. When I walked to the door to meet Perry on the stretcher, one medic coldly informed me I’d need to go in the front door. Clearly, I was impressed by these paramedics. (Let the reader understand.)
An Out of Body Experience
I went inside and checked in at the front desk. The lady told me they’d call me when I could go back. I stood off to the side while family, friends, and church members trickled in. It was all a blur, and I was trying to just pray and keep some composure. I finally went back to the desk and a man seemed shocked that someone hadn’t already taken me to Perry. I was so relieved to be with him, though the news I received was not relieving. The CT scan showed a massive stroke. Too much damage had already been done. There was nothing they could do to help him other than try to prevent another stroke. Perry had that same searching, desperate look in his eyes. He struggled to answer any questions other than telling him his name was Perry.
A Glimpse Into God’s Sovereignty
It’s difficult to describe how I felt in that moment. As Christians, God promises us His supernatural peace that passes all understanding. The Holy Spirit dwells within us when we repent and believe in Christ, but until you face a life-altering tragedy, it’s hard to understand how or what that means. As I stood beside my husband who laid in a hospital bed vulnerable, confused, and weak, learning that life would likely never be the same for either of us, I was calm.
I was able to smile and thank the doctors and tell Perry everything was going to be okay. There is nothing inside of me that could muster this type of response. The man I had loved since I was 15 years old — the other piece of me — had lost half of his brain cells. He couldn’t walk or talk or lift his arm. And yet I felt God’s overwhelming presence. I trusted His sovereignty.
The next day on Facebook I wrote:
I can’t help but wish I’d checked the camera sooner, called him more times, come home earlier, etc. Yet in my head I know that God is sovereign and He knew before He laid the foundation of the earth that Perry would have a stroke on September 19, 2022. He knew exactly when I would leave work, when I’d check the camera, and when the ambulance would arrive. He knew who his doctors would be, and He knows what the future holds. I am obviously praying for a speedy and full recovery, but we trust that God will work it all out for our good and His glory because we are in Him.
A Whirlwind Night
We eventually moved from triage to an ICU room. I sat with him as they hooked him up to monitors and IVs and took several vials of blood for tests to try to determine what caused the stroke. My mom eventually got to come in, and at about 10:20 p.m., a hospital worker came in and bluntly stated that visiting hours ended at 10:00. No one said anything to me about the visitor policy and thankfully I was not well-versed in ICU policy. I panicked a little inside but tried to remain calm. The one time I’d gone out to the restroom, Perry gave me the saddest, most scared look I’ve ever seen. I was terrified of what he’d feel when I had to leave overnight.
I told Perry that I was going to be just outside his room and that the doctors would call me if he needed me. His eyes immediately widened and he looked desperate and scared, like he was wondering why I was leaving him. I kissed him and told him I’d see him soon. I wandered down a hall and found a large waiting room that was vacant. It looked like it had been used as a triage area. I tried to sleep for a couple of hours and kept waking up with a pit in my stomach. Have you ever woken up and known instantly that something was wrong, but it takes a second for you to remember what? That’s how I felt.
A Plea for Mercy
After a couple of hours, I called ICU to check on Perry. They said he was “a little restless” but doing okay. I told them that I understood they had a policy against overnight visitors but that my absence was negatively impacting his care, as he was not restless when I was with him. The nurse told me that I needed to stay home and that she would call if anything changed. She was shocked when I told her I was not home and there was no way I was going home. I was just upstairs and I would be at UT Medical Center as long as my husband was there.
She insisted that I needed to go home and rest. I told her again that I appreciated her concern and that I sympathize with the work they do and that they have policies for a reason, but I asked if I could please speak to someone else to make my case. The nurse manager reluctantly agreed to ask her boss to call me, but that they never go against protocol. My mom and Perry’s parents were in the room with me and we all immediately started praying that God would soften their hearts and cause them to allow me to be with Perry.
An Answered Prayer
Not five minutes later, the nurse manager called me back to tell me that if she was in my shoes, she would be a mess and would want to be with him, so she was going to allow me to spend the night in Perry’s room. This was one of the first specific answers to prayer I remember. When I got to his room, Perry and I were both so relieved. It was like I could feel his emotions. He couldn’t communicate with words, but my heart felt what he felt.
A Supernatural Union
The one flesh union became more and more obvious over the coming days. Knowing what another person is thinking and feeling without them saying a word is truly a gift from God, and I don’t think I’d ever realized just how in tune with one another we were. Perry and I are polar opposites in so many ways, that it didn’t make sense for us to have that kind of connection. Yet, we read in God’s Word that when He joins a man and woman together in marriage, they become one flesh.
And the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two but one flesh.Mark 10:8
A Fork in the Road
For Perry and I, September 19, 2022 marked a fork in the road. We had two choices, because turning back was not an option. In God’s sovereignty, He chose to allow Perry to suffer a massive stroke four days after his 31st birthday. Perry and I could respond by wringing our hands and questioning God or we could respond by trusting Him and thanking Him for what He was going to do.
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28
Only by God’s sovereignty and grace did we choose the latter. We are humans, so we have moments of temptation to give in to our fleshly desire to feel sorry for ourselves or wonder why us, but God has been kind and merciful to allow those moments to be fleeting. It is only through His strength that we are able to put away that which is not of Him and to be mindful of the Enemy’s lies. We are encouraged by His Word and His promises, which never fail.
On January 3, 2022, I posted the following quote on Instagram:
Puritans got it quite a bit better. They often wished each other a blessed new year, by which they meant something like this: I hope that everything that comes your way by the hand of Providence this year may be sanctified to you in and through Christ, so that you may be patient in adversity, thankful in prosperity, and have a firm trust in our faithful God and Father for the unknown future. Joel Beeke
I wrote, “In reflecting on 2021, I was certainly blessed. Even in some difficult situations, I saw the Lord’s sovereignty, that His mercies that are new each morning, and countless examples of His provision.”
Yes, there were some challenges in 2021, but I had no idea what God’s hand of Providence had in store for 2022.
Meeting Difficulties Prematurely
If you’re anything like me, you may have the sinful tendency to be anxious, dreaming up what kind of dread is just around the corner. There’s nothing that will rob your joy quicker than borrowed worry.
When we try to meet difficulties prematurely we have neither the light nor the strength for them yet. “As thy days so shall thy strength be” was Moses’ blessing for Asher—in other words, your strength will equal your days. God knows how to apportion each one’s strength according to that day’s need, however great or small. The psalmist understood this when he wrote, “Lord you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure” (16:5). Elizabeth Elliott, The Future is Not Our Providence
I used to think, if I could just see into the future, I’d know how to plan better. I’d know which decision to make. I’d know how to protect my family. But the more I learn about the sovereignty of God and His providential design, the more thankful I am for the blessing of an unknown future.
An Unknown Future
God has not promised to give us strength for the unknown future. He has promised strength for today. At first glance, we might be tempted to think that He is withholding something from us. Why will He only give us strength for today and not for tomorrow? It’s because tomorrow is not our burden to bear. What a blessing that He does not force us to carry the trials and tests that are to come. Instead, He gives us new mercies each morning and strength for today.
Strength for Today
Had I known in advance what was going to transpire on September 19, 2022, I would’ve been an anxious disaster. I would not have had the strength to carry the weight of that information. How would I have gotten out of bed each morning knowing that in just a few days, my husband and best friend would face a near-death experience? Thank the Lord that He does not burden us with tomorrow’s sorrows. He gives strength for today; nothing less, but also nothing more.
People have said nice things to me about how strong and resolved I was during Perry’s stroke and recovery, but all I can say is that God gave me just enough strength for each day. Anything good that came out of me during those first days, weeks, and months was of Him. Anything good that ever comes out of me is Him, but in a crisis, we can see our shortcomings more clearly. Every moment of every day, I battled my fleshly desire to be anxious, to withdraw, to lose hope, to be resentful. Only by fixing my eyes on Scripture and on my love for my husband did I resist those urges to dwell on the anxieties of an unknown future.
Prayers that Build Faith
Our pastor once said that if we never ask God specific requests, He will never give specific answers. In other words, if we ask, “Lord, please heal Perry,” God may heal Perry, but will we notice? Will it be the kind or type of healing we had in mind? But if we ask, “Lord, please let feeling to return to Perry’s hand,” and the next day we see tiny movement in his pinky finger, we recognize immediately that God heard our plea and answered affirmatively! This is a prayer that builds faith.
I cannot count the times we have seen God answer specific prayers over the past year. This time last year, Perry was lying in a hospital bed, unable to stand up, to state his date of birth, to lift his right arm, or to tell the nurses my name. I have a video on my phone dated October 6, 2022 where Perry is sitting in a wheelchair, and his speech therapist asks him, “What do people drive?” He looks blankly at her and starts tapping his foot. He whispers, “I know this one.” She starts to give him clues, such as “Try to picture it in your head. Picture getting in it. You’ve got your keys, and then you drive off in your…” Finally, she pronounces the “cah” sound, and he answers, “car.” This exchange went on for more than 60 seconds, and he had to be given the first two letters of a three letter word. That same day, I have a video of him relearning to walk, wearing a belt around his waist for his therapist to hold him up. He struggles to take each step, legs shaking and foot stumbling with each movement forward.
Pressing On
Here we are, two and a half years later, and Perry drives, works, converses with people he’s never met, runs errands, reads aloud, and tends our mini farm. (Chickens, cats, and dogs count as a mini farm, right?)
Is 2025 Perry the same as pre-September 2022 Perry? No. Does he have deficits? Yes. Do we still face an unknown future? Always. However, the way God designed our brains and bodies is truly amazing, and I’ve had a front row seat to witness the wonder of that anatomy. The blot clot was on the left side of his brain, killing a significant amount of brain tissue. The left side controls language, numbers, speech, and the right hand, which explains why he has difficulty thinking of words, conversing, writing, and completing tasks that require fine motor skills. The left side also controls logic, order, analysis, and reasoning. If you know him, you know Perry was a very laid back, carefree guy before his stroke. While his overall personality has not changed much (strokes cause drastic personality changes/issues in some people), he is much more methodical, logical, thoughtful, and particular now, which is medically unexplainable! I like to think that because his brain was forced to make new pathways to relay information on the left side, that it even strengthened some qualities he lacked before. Only a mighty Creator who cares about His creations could design the body in such a way.
While September 19, 2022 undoubtedly changed our little family’s life forever, we have been immensely blessed in the process. We wouldn’t have chosen it, but we would never trade it. God has worked in our personal relationships with Him, our marriage, our families, our home, our jobs, and every part of our lives. I have a refreshed perspective of God’s sanctifying hand of Providence, and can clearly see the blessing of an unknown future.
Like the Puritans, I pray that I will be found patient in adversity, thankful in prosperity, and having a firm trust in our faithful God and Father for the unknown future.
Infertility is hard. No one expects a doctor to tell you that you’ll never have children who share your genetics. Yet today, 1 in 6 couples will struggle to conceive naturally. The nature of infertility is especially personal, which can make it difficult to share with others. For us, infertility was our five-year secret.
About Us
Perry and I were high school sweethearts. We started dating in 2009, got engaged in 2014, and got married in 2016. In 2019, I graduated law school and passed the Bar, so we felt ready to start a family. (Our views on this form of family planning has since changed drastically, but that’s a story for another day.) Looking back, I have to chuckle at how nervous I was to be taking that plunge. I felt as if I was saying I was mentally and financially “ready” to be a mom. In reality, the idea of “choosing” to bring another human into the world terrified me. If only I knew then the amount of time I’d have to ponder those fears.
Prepared for Disappointment
Infertility is always a shock, and yet in the back of my mind I always had doubt. If you know me, you know I’m a realist (optimists might call me a pessimist). I tend to expect the worst, which I think is a defense mechanism to try to avoid disappointment in life. I always had a suspicion in the back of my mind that this journey would not be easy. Sadly, that concern became a reality. After a year, I started undergoing tests. I visited that office often within the course of a few months, but my doctor found nothing that would prevent pregnancy. At that point, she made Perry an appointment with an infertility specialist.
Infertility Diagnosis
When we got the diagnosis of male factor infertility (azoospermia, precisely), I had questions. “What can we do? Would diet changes, increased exercise, supplements, or something else help?” Essentially, I wanted to know what was causing this problem in an otherwise healthy, young male. The doctor laughed in my face and made us an appointment for surgery in Chattanooga; we were told this was our only option.
Seeking Answers
Believe it or not, I was not pleased with that answer, and neither was Perry. This was a painful, invasive surgery that came with risks. Worse, we still didn’t have any clue about the root cause. Without going into detail, the surgery was exploratory but was not looking for the “why” behind our infertility. We decided to cancel that appointment and try to pursue answers. After a few more doctor visits, we felt disappointed and ignored and had no more answers than when we started the process.
Assisted Reproduction
We were told assisted reproduction would be our only hope, and even that was slim. IVF (in vitro fertilization) is expensive enough, and we were told we would likely require ICSI (intracytoplasmic sperm injection), which was even more expensive and success was far from guaranteed. Ultimately, no one seemed to want to help us figure out why a twenty-something year old man with no other known health issues was totally infertile. Was there a blockage? Was it hormonal? Toxicity? This process played a big role in opening our eyes to the realities of big pharma, the medical system’s priorities, and what we perceive to be a general lack of critical thinking.
There was a lot to process once we were told by multiple people that the likelihood of us conceiving naturally was slim to none. The hurt was present, but I had a supernatural peace in God’s sovereignty. I trusted that He alone opens and closes wombs. I never felt the finality of that diagnosis.
Perry had his own journey and his own emotions to process, and while I won’t speak for him, he carried a lot of grief and guilt over “keeping” me from having kids. I just wouldn’t entertain that as it was not at all how I saw the situation. I never felt like Perry was infertile and I wasn’t. Perry and I covenanted with one another and God when we got married, and at that point, we became one flesh; therefore, if he was infertile, so was I.
Processing Grief
Nonetheless, being told that you cannot conceive naturally is devastating news, especially when you’ve been dreaming since high school of what your future kids would look like. Would they have dad’s red hair or mom’s green eyes? Would they have my laid-back, easy-going personality or be ambitious and high-strung like Perry? (If you don’t know us, this is a joke.) Every pregnancy announcement, baby shower invitation, and crying baby served as a reminder of what we didn’t have.
Part of processing this diagnosis as a Christian involves seeing it in light of Scripture. God tells us that children are a blessing and a reward.
Behold, children are an inheritance of Yahweh, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. How blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them; they will not be ashamed when they speak with enemies in the gate.
Psalms 127: 3-5
Then God blessed them saying, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let the birds multiply on the earth.”
Genesis 1:22
We know that it is good and natural to desire children. However, God’s Word also gives multiple examples of barren women. Why is this, particularly among God-fearing people? Ultimately, the answer lies in the nature of our sinful, fallen world. As Christians seeking to honor God by raising children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, the sting of infertility is deep. Even as you pray and process and work towards surrendering your will to God’s perfect plan, the pain lingers. The thoughts inevitably creep in. You wonder why God hasn’t seen fit to bless you. Why can that couple have a baby?
The Curse of the Fall
Those thoughts of bitterness and envy certainly crept in at times. Never was the sting so prevalent as when I was working as a child attorney, defending abused and neglected babies. To add insult to injury, most of the parents were repeat offenders. Yet, as quickly as Satan would whisper in my ear, “Why are they as fertile as rabbits and you can’t have even one?” the Lord was kind to remind me of the answer. We live in a fallen world. This is purely a testament of God’s grace and patience with me. I am prone to selfishness and self-pity, and yet He never let me linger with those thoughts. He quickly replaced them with the reminder that He alone opens and closes wombs and that He has a plan that is good for my life.
Being Vulnerable
Sharing an incredibly personal journey feels vulnerable. However, we believe God can be glorified in this testimony of His goodness and faithfulness. We hope to encourage those who may be facing a similar diagnosis. You are not alone. God has not forgotten you. He hasn’t overlooked you and He doesn’t despise you. Every circumstance, even the painful ones, are for our good and His glory if we are in Christ.
At 21 weeks, we elected to have a routine anatomy scan amidst a relatively event-free and easy twin pregnancy. We were excited to be working with midwives we love and trust, and we were still set on having a peaceful home birth.
The ultrasound tech commented on how good each placenta looked. She noted that the amniotic fluid was perfect, and there were no signs of preterm labor. She continued across their little 12 and 13 ounce bodies, taking pictures of their brains, spines, arms, legs, fingers, and toes. Walt was a little squished by his sister, so she left him to go to Lumi. She said, “Look at that beautiful heart!” We saw four chambers and a steady beat pumping blood. Then the tech said, “I’m going to go back to baby boy one more time.”
“That doesn’t look right. What’s going on there? I’m not sure what that is, but I’m glad I came back to it because his heart doesn’t look right.”
Shortly thereafter, she leaves the room. Perry and I sit in silence. I close my eyes and begin to pray. I think Perry might’ve said something to reassure me, but my mind was reeling. In comes a lady in plain clothes (who we later found out was the genetic counselor). She sits down and asks how the pregnancy has been going. I told her it was going well but the tech mentioned a problem with baby boy’s heart.
Her disposition changes and she says, “Yeah, we’re really worried about that. It doesn’t look good.” She proceeds to tell us it looks like hypoplastic left heart syndrome, which means nothing to us at this point. She says Vanderbilt no longer accepts these cases so I’ll be delivering at Duke or somewhere else with a pediatric cardiologist surgeon and that we should do genetic testing to see if there are other issues.
Then the doctor comes in, also down trodden, and repeats much of the same information with lots more sprinkled in. She explains that HLHS means Walt only has two heart chambers instead of four; only the right side of his heart developed. It is a very rare but serious heart defect.
At this point, we still don’t know if there are any options or what this means for Walt long-term. We are trying to understand and process. The doctor tells us best case scenario is that he’s a candidate for three surgeries between the ages of 0-5 and that he will likely need a heart transplant by age 30 or 40. She says there are some young adults living with this condition now because of the surgeries, but without that, he would die shortly after birth. She says some parents choose comfort care instead of surgery, opting to go home on hospice.
She also offers for us to terminate the pregnancy. I smiled and said, “We’re keeping him.” At 21 weeks pregnant, while I’m carrying not one baby but two, a doctor in Tennessee offered for me to end the life of my unborn child as an option for “treatment.” Walt is perfectly safe in utero at this point, because babies’ hearts work differently before they’re born. And yet a medical professional whose job is to provide life-saving care, suggested killing him as an option.
I’m not mad at her specifically, but I am mad that we live in a society where that is acceptable. I’m offended that while I was receiving some of the worst news of my life, someone had the audacity to ask me if I’d like to dispose of the problem, as if he was a product I could simply discard once I found it to be faulty.
But in the moment, I wasn’t angry. I was grieving, but I had peace that can only be explained by Christ in me. I was able to tell the doctor and genetic counselor of how God sustained Walt and Lumi for 25 years already and how we trust His plan for their lives.
We pray and long for the day when even the idea of killing a child in the womb is unimaginable, even among those who are not Christians. At the moment egg and sperm meet, a new life is formed, and that new life is an image-bearer of God, made in His image. Before He laid the foundation of the earth, the Lord knew Walt and Lumi. He knew how they would come into the world, how long they would be frozen in a tube, who would be their parents, and how He would use them to bring Him glory and us good. We thank Him for that and trust that “behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling face.”
Your eyes saw me when I was formless; all my days were written in your book and planned before a single one of them began. Psalm 139:16
In October 2024, we announced on social media that we were adopting frozen embryos. But that journey began long before we shared it publicly.
Perry and I were married in 2016. I was on the pill for several years, because I thought that’s what it meant to be responsible. (That’s another post for another day.) By 2020, we realized that there may have been something keeping us from having children. I went through months of testing before we were referred to a male fertility specialist. We soon received the diagnosis of unexplained male factor infertility. The doctor laughed in my face when I asked if we could try to find the root cause or explore any remedies like diet or exercise.
We pursued some additional testing but knew that we did not want Perry to undergo a risky surgery when there was no guarantee that would lead to answers.
We stepped back to pray and seek the Lord’s will for how to proceed. By 2021, I was working as a child advocate attorney, and while I loved that work and have a special place in my heart for foster and adoptive families, I did not feel called to traditional adoption.
The Lord placed in me a deep passion for advocating for the unborn as a pre-teen. As I researched assisted reproduction, including IUI, IVF, ICSI, etc. I became more and more convinced that ethically I could not participate in that. I also knew that if our child would not be genetically related to both of us, they wouldn’t be genetically related to either of us. A sperm donor wasn’t an option.
I think it took Perry a little longer to let go of the idea of having children who were genetically related to us. Because of the love he has for me, he longed for us to create life together and to give me a child that was connected to me in that way.
However, God gave me a supernatural peace about it, and there was very little grief involved in letting go of that natural desire to have children who shared our genetics. As I began researching alternatives, I remembered the couple from East Tennessee who adopted embryos that were created before they were born. I had seen them on the news, and it always stuck with me that someone could carry and give birth to their adopted child.
When I learned that the National Embryo Donation Center is located right in our hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee, I might’ve shed a tear. My heart was instantly drawn to this form of adoption. One where I could carry and give birth to our adopted child. I would bond with them in a unique way. I would be in control of their prenatal nutrition and care. I would experience pregnancy and could have the birth I wanted. There would be no government overreach or parental visits or custody hearings.
In August 2022, we met with the NEDC and placed our initial deposit. On September 17, 2022, we partnered with Nightlight Christian Adoptions for their Snowflakes Embryo Adoption Home Study and made our first payment to them. On September 19, 2022, our world was turned upside down when Perry suffered a massive stroke while home alone.
Naturally, this put all of our plans — and our life in general — on hold. We didn’t know if he would ever speak or walk or use the right side of his body again. The blood clot killed much of the left side of his brain. He was hospitalized for a month and was then in intense therapy for months.
As he started to recover and regain abilities, I began to gently bring up embryo adoption again. He was quite closed off to the idea at this point, because he was adamant that we not intentionally bring life into the world when he couldn’t support himself, much less a family. I respected that, but I grieved the loss of babies I felt were mine but knew nothing about yet.
I tried not to bring it up often, but in May 2024, we had a long conversation about embryo adoption. I wanted him to tell me if I needed to let go of that dream or if he ever saw us being ready to pursue it again. To my surprise, he was open to the idea. He had been working an entry level job for a few months and was still hesitant but more comfortable with the thought of having kids.
After bugging him about it for a week or two to make absolutely certain he was okay with me reaching out, I contacted the NEDC and Nightlight to let them know we were ready to continue. Little did we know, we’d face another bump in the road with the NEDC having all appointments on hold, but we proceeded with Nightlight’s background check and home study, and then we got access to the NEDC embryo database.
I could write a whole post on what it was like to finally see profiles of what could be our babies, so I’ll save that for another day. We adopted a sibling group of seven embryos, frozen in 1999.
Once the NEDC started taking appointments again, everything moved quite quickly. In October, I was told to go ahead and start following the medication protocol because I was on the “wait list” for November. Soon, we got confirmation that November 21, 2024 was our transfer date!
When we arrived at the NEDC, Dr. Keenan told us that sadly, 4/7 of our embryo babies didn’t survive the thaw but that we had 2 thawed that were good quality and ready to be transferred. I had been prescribed valium and albuterol, so my mind was a bit cloudy, but I was overwhelmed with both sadness and joy — grief over the loss of those four and thankful for the two that would soon be transferred to my womb.
Everything went smoothly (other than the progesterone shots — if you know, you know). At one week post-transfer, I took a pregnancy test and was shocked that it was positive so early. I had a sneaking suspicion that might mean I was carrying twins, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I was absolutely miserable from the progesterone in ethyl oleate (turns out I was allergic to the carrier oil), but I was overjoyed to be carrying life for the first time. Just a few days before Christmas, we confirmed by ultrasound that there were two tiny babies!
From there, everything continued to go smoothly. I had ultrasounds at 7 and 10 weeks and was then released from the fertility doctor to the provider of my choice. I found wonderful midwives who share our faith, are experienced with twins, agree that God made women’s bodies to give birth, and who I fully trust. At 16 weeks, we had an elective ultrasound to find out gender (I know, not very crunchy of me). Perry had been right from day one, but I was shocked! Baby A is a boy and Baby B is a girl! I couldn’t believe we were having one of each; for some reason, that was so difficult for me to fathom.
My midwives asked if we would like to have an anatomy scan, and we agreed that we would, particularly with twins, to ensure there were no placenta issues or other problems we might need to be aware of at birth. That 21-week anatomy scan on March 31, 2025 is another date that would rock our world. Read about the scan and Walt’s diagnosis here.
The Stevens Family 