Misconception Read online
Misconception
OTHER BOOKS BY ANGELA HUNT
Collaborative Titles
Why I Stayed (with Gayle Haggard)
Don’t Bet Against Me! (with Deanna Favre)
Idoleyes: My New Perspective on Faith, Fat & Fame
(with Mandisa)
Heavenly Crowns
(with Heather Whitestone McCallum)
Listening with My Heart
(with Heather Whitestone McCallum)
Let God Surprise You
(with Heather Whitestone McCallum)
Novels:
Let Darkness Come
The Face
The Elevator
Doesn’t She Look Natural?
She Always Wore Red
She’s in a Better Place
Uncharted
A Time to Mend
The Novelist
The Truth Teller
Unspoken
The Awakening
The Debt
The Canopy
The Pearl
The Note
The Justice
The Immortal
The Proposal
For more information about Angela Hunt,
please visit www.angelahuntbooks.com.
Misconception
One Couple’s Journey
from Embryo Mix-Up
to Miracle Baby
Paul and Shannon Morell
with Angela Hunt
Published by Howard Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Misconception © 2010 Paul and Shannon Morell
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any
form whatsoever. For information, address Permission Department, Simon & Schuster,
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010008457
ISBN 978-1-4391-9361-7
ISBN 978-1-4391-9754-7 (ebook)
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
HOWARD colophon is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Manufactured in the United States of America
For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact:
Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau
at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Edited by Cindy Lambert
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
This work reflects the authors’ present recollections of their experiences over a period of months. Certain names and identifying characteristics have been changed and/or omitted. Though every attempt has been made to depict conversations as accurately as possible, others may recall events differently.
For our children, Ellie, Megan, and Logan,
and to the unborn babies
we were not able to hold in this life;
and to Sean and Carolyn Savage,
for delivering to us the precious gift of our son.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter One: Like Any Other Day
Chapter Two: Love, Marriage, and …
Chapter Three: Playing God?
Chapter Four: Pregnant!
Chapter Five: Frozen in Time
Chapter Six: The Other Woman
Chapter Seven: Chasing Needles in Haystacks
Chapter Eight: Talk to Me, I’m Listening
Chapter Nine: The Meeting
Chapter Ten: One Step Closer
Chapter Eleven: The Announcement
Chapter Twelve: Preparing for Peanut
Chapter Thirteen: How Could I Say No?
Chapter Fourteen: On His Way
Chapter Fifteen: A Public Event
Chapter Sixteen: Sharing the News
Chapter Seventeen: It’s Time
Chapter Eighteen: Hello and Good-bye
Acknowledgments
References and Resources
Appendix A: The Pros and Cons of IVF
Appendix B: If You Have Frozen Embryos
Appendix C: When Does a Person Become a Person?
Notes
Misconception
Introduction
There is probably nothing more private for a couple, more personal, than making decisions about reproduction. At least that is how Paul and I always felt. We have always been intensely private about such matters. Even close family and dear friends were not privy to our struggles with infertility or our decision about turning to in vitro fertilization, using our own eggs and sperm, to build our family.
Before September 2009, if you’d told us that we would reluctantly be featured on national television and plastered across headlines as the victims of a rare in vitro fertilization mistake, we would have been horrified at the thought. Quite frankly, as our very personal nightmare unfolded in the public eye, we were more than horrified. We were shell-shocked, embarrassed, confused, and overwhelmed.
So why would two very private people expose their personal health information to the public and write a book about how their baby ended up inside another woman’s womb?
Because through our ordeal we have discovered so many misconceptions.
We have had to face misconceptions of our own about in vitro. Though we believed we were well-informed before we proceeded, we have learned much more about the ins and outs, processes and complexities of in vitro than we ever imagined.
We’ve become aware of misconceptions of other couples who, in considering in vitro for themselves, are turning to our story with questions and fears.
We have encountered misconceptions on the part of family and friends—our own and those of other infertile couples—who care and want to offer support and empathy, but find themselves confused and reluctant to pry.
And finally, we find ourselves face-to-face with misconceptions of the public, wanting to understand what happened—how and why—and, maybe most important, how such errors can be avoided in the future. The scrutiny of the public is also driven by the highly controversial questions of when life begins, when infertility treatments and procedures cross the line of moral ethics, and when assisting in conception becomes tampering with God’s divine will. We are not theologians or medical ethicists. We are not setting ourselves up as authorities on these issues. We are simply one couple who wanted to build a family of their own, and whose story has become a touchstone for all who are debating such topics. Our hope is that in exposing our misconceptions, our questions, our discoveries, and our experiences, our story will shed light on these critically important issues.
We have witnessed how a single careless error can have life-changing consequences. We have learned some important lessons and gained valuable insights. And perhaps the most life-changing benefit of all, we have realized that God was working behind the scenes and continues to do so, bringing his plans to pass and answering our prayers—even when we find it hard to accept what is happening.
So though we are not at all comfortable in the spotlight, since we find ourselves here, we do not want our pain or experience to be wasted or our joys and gratitude to go uncelebrated. It is our hope and prayer that in telling our story many misconceptions can be cleared away, leaving nothing but the truth.
Chapter One
Like Any Other Day
The sevente
enth of February 2009 began like any other day. The alarm went off at the usual hour, but I hit the snooze button three times, delaying wakefulness for as long as possible. I opened my eyes to see Paul still sleeping soundly and tiptoed out of the room. I’d been up with our daughter Megan during the night, and sunrise had come much too soon.
I had condensed my morning regimen to a bare-bones routine, but no matter how I planned ahead, nothing ever went smoothly. When I caught a few extra minutes of sleep, I could jump out of bed, slide into the shower, and dress—tossing my makeup bag into my purse, kissing the girls, and grabbing a cup of coffee as I went out the door.
That morning I took the same route I always drove to work, but traffic seemed more sluggish than usual. As always, I found myself frustrated with slower drivers who dawdled and stoplights that turned red when I approached. After turning on my favorite local talk radio, I put on my lipstick and sipped coffee as I sat at red lights, glancing around to see several other drivers wrapping their hands around their coffee cups. We were all trying to stay warm and awake.
Once I got to the middle school where I taught eighth grade, I went to my room and dropped my bulging purse on my desk. Almost immediately, I noticed that the message light on my classroom telephone was blinking. Who might be calling so early? Usually people only call the teacher when there’s a problem, so I assumed it was one of my students’ parents calling with a concern.
Postponing the inevitable, I walked around my L-shaped desk and hung up my coat. I pulled out my chair and slid into it, then sighed and picked up the phone. The automated voice told me I had two messages, so I pressed the button to play the first.
My heart skipped a beat when I heard the voice of a nurse from my fertility clinic. The doctor would like to talk to me, she said, so could I please call the office as soon as possible?
I rested the phone against my shoulder, thinking. I hadn’t been to the fertility clinic in years, though I had an appointment scheduled for the next week. But why would the doctor want to speak to me now?
But there was another message. I pressed the button, expecting to hear from a parent, but I heard the nurse yet again, repeating the same message.
So … the doctor really wanted to talk to me. The nurse spoke in a calm voice, yet a note of urgency underlined her words. I didn’t have much time to ponder the reason for the call because just then the morning bell sounded. I stepped into the hallway to supervise the oncoming rush of kids, but I couldn’t get the odd message out of my mind. Maybe the doctor wanted to ask a few questions in light of my upcoming appointment. Maybe he wanted to tell me about a new development in procedure. This had to be good news … didn’t it?
Fortunately, first period was my planning hour. After the tardy bell rang, I dialed the clinic. The nurse thanked me for calling and said my doctor would really like to speak to me, but he would be in surgery all day. Could he call me later in the afternoon, around four?
“Absolutely,” I told her. “He can reach me during my lunch hour or after three thirty p.m.”
She said she’d relay the information. Overcome with curiosity, I asked, “Do you know why he wants to speak with me?”
“No,” she answered, and at that point a nagging doubt entered my mind. During my first in vitro process, which resulted in the birth of healthy twin girls, I had never spoken with the doctor over the phone. He always relayed instructions through his nurses, and they called me. The fact that he wanted to speak to me directly was … odd.
When second period began, I tried to keep my mind on my lessons as I taught American history to my energetic eighth graders. During my lunch hour I received another message from the clinic nurse—the doctor’s surgeries were running late, and, by the way, he would like to speak with me in person, not over the phone. Could I come to his office later in the evening?
More curious than ever, I called the nurse again. “I’d be happy to come to the office. What time?” I asked, thinking that the arrangement would work out well. I’d been planning to take my girls with me next week so they could meet the doctor, but if we saw him tonight, I wouldn’t have to take the girls next week. Before hanging up, I blurted out a question: “Should I bring my husband with me?”
“That would be a good idea.”
I hung up the phone and wondered why the doctor was in such a hurry to speak with us.
After school, I called Paul to tell him about our appointment. As usual, he remained unflappable, not at all alarmed. We discussed what we could have for dinner that would be quick and easy, and decided on spaghetti.
Once I arrived at home, we received another phone call from the fertility clinic—the doctor was stuck in traffic and running late. Could we postpone the meeting by about thirty minutes?
“Sure, no problem,” I told the nurse, relieved that I’d have an extra half hour to feed the girls. “We’ll be there.”
I was actually looking forward to bundling up the girls and taking them to the doctor’s office—he had been my physician during our first in vitro cycle. This proud mama wanted him to see Megan and Ellie and know how happy he’d made us nearly three years before.
We ate quickly, though I didn’t have much of an appetite. Then, because the girls’ clothes were covered in spaghetti, I changed their outfits and we loaded them into the car.
Megan wanted to know where we were going.
“We’re going to see my doctor.”
“Your doctor? Don’t you feel good?”
“I’m fine. It’s just for a brief appointment.”
On the way, the girls chattered away with Paul, leaving me with plenty of time to think. My thoughts kept drifting toward the clinic. I was dying to know what the doctor wanted to discuss, but I told myself to be patient—we’d be there soon enough, and then we’d hear whatever he had to say. In only a matter of minutes, the big mystery would be solved.
The sun had already set, and the facility’s parking lot was nearly empty when we pulled in. Only a few lights burned inside the windows.
Mixed feelings surged within me as I studied the clinic building. I hadn’t visited the practice since my last appointment when I was eight weeks pregnant with the girls.
Paul and I each unbuckled one of the girls from their car seats and hoisted them onto our hips. We walked forward and found the front door ajar, undoubtedly propped open for us. The waiting room stood empty, the magazines neatly stacked on the end tables. A single lamp burned at the check-in window, but no one emerged to greet us. I walked up to the counter and waited a minute or two, then decided to sit down. After five phone calls, someone had to be expecting us.
How nice, I thought, for the doctor to meet with us at night. We sat for about ten minutes, spending most of that time trying to get the girls to sit down and stop climbing on the furniture and shuffling the magazines.
Finally the nurse came out to talk to us. We chatted about the girls for a minute or two, then she motioned us forward, ready to lead us to the doctor’s private office. Though she smiled the entire time, faint lines of strain puckered the skin of her forehead. Those faint lines sent a shiver of unease through me—why, exactly, had we been invited to this unconventional meeting?
Paul and I greeted my doctor from his office doorway, introducing him to our toddlers. He stood up and shook our hands, then greeted the girls. “These are the twins,” he said. “Oh, they are beautiful.”
I smiled. “That’s right. You’ve never seen them before.”
“No, we usually only see photos, so this is nice. Now, if you’ll please step into my office so we can talk …”
The doctor was gracious and kind, but I couldn’t help thinking that he looked exhausted.
“I’ve had a long day and I’ve just finished a complicated surgery.” He gestured to a pair of chairs. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Still wearing my coat, I dropped into the nearer chair. Paul sat on the other, gathering the girls around him. The doctor moved behind his desk. “Thank you for coming in,
” he said, sinking into his seat. He paused, shuffled a few papers, then looked directly at the two of us. “I thought it would be best to speak to you in person rather than over the phone.”
Alarm bells began to clang in my brain, nearly blocking out my awareness of the girls clambering behind me. What was this about? I didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
He hesitated for a moment and dropped his head, then took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Shannon, but there’s been a terrible incident in our lab.” The doctor’s voice became darker and grimmer. He took a deep breath. “Your embryos have been thawed.”
I blinked as I absorbed the news. I could see stress on the doctor’s face, so I knew this matter was serious. Thawed embryos … meant our babies were dead. All six of the tiny embryos that had been stored so we could soon expand our family. Some kind of massive power outage must have struck the storage lab, and probably thousands of frozen embryos had died. … All those poor families!
I gasped. No wonder the doctor looked worried.
Little did I know that within the space of a few moments, I would wear that same expression myself … and I would continue to wear it for months. For reasons I could not understand, God took responsibility for our embryos out of our hands and placed it instead into the hands of strangers.
Sitting in that office, I looked at my trembling hands pressed against my knees, then looked up at Paul. In that moment we both realized that our lives were about to spiral out of our control.
Chapter Two
Love, Marriage, and …
Love, marriage, and motherhood had never been my ultimate goal. I wasn’t one of those girls who falls in love during high school and marries right after graduation. I met Paul when I was twenty-three and assumed I’d eventually marry, but I was in no rush. I had high expectations, and good men were hard to find.
In July 2002, Paul and I married in Croswell, Michigan. We had known each other nine years, and we were older than the average first-time bride and groom: I was thirty-two and Paul was thirty-one. But we would have the rest of our lives to be together and create a family.