Infertility is a challenging journey, and for those grappling with it after a cancer diagnosis, the road can be even more daunting. As a cervical cancer survivor, I can attest to the unique hurdles that arise on this path. However, sharing my story is not meant to frighten others; rather, I hope it prepares you for the unpredictable rollercoaster of infertility. For my family, the journey to parenthood was filled with unexpected twists and turns.
Shortly after undergoing treatment, a close friend suggested she would like to be a surrogate for us. At that time, I was still completing my graduate studies and was not yet married to my husband, but everything seemed to align. We had already created embryos together, and the timing felt right. Although I anticipated challenges, I never imagined needing approval from the hospital’s ethics board to use our own embryos. They expressed concerns about my life expectancy since I had not yet reached the five-year mark post-treatment and was unmarried. It felt perplexing that these factors were relevant when, without a cancer history, conceiving would have required no such scrutiny. After navigating countless meetings with their licensed therapist, we finally received the green light to proceed.
My friend attempted to carry our frozen embryos twice, but unfortunately, neither attempt was successful. This led me to explore adoption, but the more I researched, the more disheartened I became. Each country and agency had its own set of regulations, particularly concerning the eligibility of cancer survivors. For instance, while China once permitted cancer survivors to adopt after five years, they revised their policies in 2007, effectively barring such adoptions. This was discouraging, to say the least.
Despite the obstacles, we were determined not to wait five years to adopt. We turned back to the idea of surrogacy. Just days before my wedding in 2010, I learned that my AMH (Anti-Müllerian Hormone) levels indicated I had insufficient viable eggs for harvesting. Devastation struck again. However, my husband remained steadfast, and we held onto the hope of having a family. Even though I wouldn’t be able to carry a child, we considered adoption or surrogacy with donor eggs as alternatives.
After moving back to my hometown, we enjoyed married life, but the longing for a child persisted. While we were open to adoption, we were still within the five-year waiting period. I began researching surrogacy using donor eggs and discovered the distinction between traditional and gestational surrogacy. Traditional surrogacy involves the surrogate donating her own egg, while gestational surrogacy requires IVF with eggs from the intended mother or a donor.
The concept of traditional surrogacy intrigued me, especially since I lacked viable eggs. I quickly created a profile on a surrogacy forum and, to my surprise, received a friend request shortly after. The connection blossomed into a meaningful conversation, where we learned about each other’s lives. She shared her motivations for wanting to be a surrogate, while I made sure she understood my cancer history and the implications.
Despite the challenges, my gynecologic oncologist provided a supportive letter confirming my status as N.E.D. (No Evidence of Disease) with a near-normal life expectancy. We opted for a domestic adoption agency, completing our home study without waiting the full five years. Soon, our online profile attracted attention, and just a few months later, we were matched with a birth mother. Tragically, our baby girl did not survive delivery due to Vasa Previa, a rare condition I had never encountered in my medical practice.
Feeling defeated, we questioned whether parenthood was meant for us. However, our traditional surrogate’s willingness to try again reignited our hope. With existing contracts, this new attempt felt less daunting, and to our joy, it was successful! Nine months later, our spirited son was born.
Initially, we thought he would be our only child, which we accepted. Yet, he began asking for a sibling, expressing that someone was missing from our family. After much contemplation, even during a reflective moment at the beach—where I had first connected with our surrogate—we decided to give it one more shot. The presence of a rainbow that day felt like a sign of hope.
Just like the first time, our next attempt was successful! Our daughter was born on March 5th, and although I didn’t carry her, I shared in the joy of her delivery alongside the midwife. Now, our family of four is complete, and Carter has embraced his role as a big brother to baby Caroline.
This journey has been far from easy, and it was never part of my original plan. However, the love I feel for my children makes every hardship worthwhile. I am deeply thankful for the women who helped me become the mother I am today, and I cherish the miracles of surrogacy, egg donation, and adoption.
If you are navigating the challenges of cancer and/or infertility, I encourage you to reach out. I am here to help you explore your options, whether that includes surrogacy or adoption. And if you have your own dreams and goals, remember: faith triumphs over fear.
For those interested in exploring at-home insemination options, MakeAmom offers valuable resources, including a sperm donor matching group and an at-home insemination kit that provides a reusable alternative. To learn more about how this process works, check out this guide. Additionally, you can read about other couples’ experiences, such as this joyful journey to parenthood shared by a transgender couple. For more insights, consider reviewing Mayo Clinic’s overview of intrauterine insemination and a comparison of home insemination versus timed intercourse.
To Summarize:
My journey through cancer and infertility has been filled with challenges, but the love for my children makes every step worthwhile. With the support of friends, family, and resources like MakeAmom, I turned obstacles into opportunities. Whether through surrogacy, adoption, or other means, I believe that with faith and determination, dreams can become a reality.