Thaw Your Baby: The Embryo Adoption Blog

I opened my computer this morning and began to contemplate what I'd write about when Ezra wandered into the living room behind me. Our bleary little 3-year-old rubbed his eyes. His pajama getup this morning includes a green top with Santa Claus logos emblazoned across it and navy blue pants with race cars. I invited him to sit in my lap. As he climbed up to the table in the kitchen, he quipped: "I thought it was breakfast." I explained that breakfast would be coming, but it's still pretty early. Then he began asking questions: "Why is it blowing?" (Because there's a fan in the computer that keeps it from getting too hot.) "What if you press the circle?" (It moves the mouse around the screen.) And then he just sat in my lap, watched me type, pushed his stubby finger along the track pad, and flopped his head from side to side onto my forearms. You can't beat a quiet morning. You sure can't beat a sleepy, snuggly tot. I

As parents, we often get the terms "selfish" and "selfless" mixed up. If we are doing something that makes us personally happy, we reason, we are being selfish. If, on the other hand, every waking moment is spent in service to our children, we are being selfless. Ah, but to the contrary. There is a third term we have overlooked, and it is the most applicable in this scenario. It is "self-deprecating." This is the act of downplaying your own contributions. There's nothing wrong with being modest, or putting others first, or sacrificing temporary needs for long-term gain. But if you repeatedly sacrifice what you personally need -- sleep, affection, peace of mind, adult relationships, time alone -- you will be unable to provide the best possible energy, enthusiasm, and support for your children. The rule is simple if difficult to apply: Care for yourself, and your children will be well-cared for.

Ezra had a major coming apart this evening, probably the product of too many long days and late nights. He hit. He kicked. He yelled over our family Bible story. I reminded him of Ephesians 6:1 where children are instructed to obey their parents. That went over like a lead balloon. After two trips to the bathroom to arm wrestle a toothbrush into his mouth, a potty break and two Kleenexes, the house is finally quiet. Except for the dog, who is snoring. I will save my meltdown for another day, when I have a bigger crowd to feel sorry for me.

Today as I drove to pick up Titus from Safety Camp, I noticed a funeral procession headed toward my car. I pulled over to the side of the road as had the other drivers around me out of respect for this family that had lost a beloved member. Life has a way of sobering us up to the reality that we are only here for a short time. Everyone's allocation is different and unpredictable. In recent months, with a fourth baby and a regularly evolving career, I have caught myself getting so caught up in checking boxes off my to-do list and ensuring everyone's needs are met -- including my own selfish desire for more, better, faster -- that I lose track of the moment. My children will only be little once. My laundry will most assuredly outlast me and probably my grandchildren. I have started asking myself a question when I am at home with my family. It haunts me, and that is why I ask it. I fear too few of us do it. The question is this: If this is the last time I am with the p

Reading is an important part of growing as a parent. If you are an adoptive parent, or you are considering adoption, check out the following resources. I've started reading these regularly and have been encouraged by the content these writers are sharing with the world: Sherrie Eldridge Adoption Blog  (first-person perspective and insights from the child's point of view on adoptive parenting and foster care) Creating A Family  (practical tips and insights for adoption and foster care) Adoption Homestead (watch for photos of chickens and cute kids) Barren to Beautiful (first-person perspective on infertility from a Christian viewpoint)  Post your favorites in a comment to this article -- I'm confident there are many I've yet to discover.

Our culture is convinced that Mondays are the worst thing since trash cans and spoiled sardines. You  don't have to buy into that. The truth is, Mondays represent a fresh opportunity to start off on a strong note. Your children might be grumpy because of the awkward transition back into the work week and daily routines. You might be frustrated the alarm on your phone rang a little too loudly and too early this morning. You might be bleary-eyed and mentally foggy. Never mind all of that. See Monday for what it really is: the ultimate reset button. Nothing magical happens on Mondays. Wizards won't start walking down your driveway to grant you three wishes or to put away your dishes. (An unintentional rhyme.) You won't open your mailbox to find $1 million from Publishers Clearing House. And the odds are against a windfall that enables you to quit your job and live off of the interest, at least until your career is a little more mature. Yet you do have one powerful as

Read a business book and you're bound to encounter the Myth of the Eight-Hour Night. Julie and I laugh about this one all of the time. The story goes something like this: To be at your best, it's essential to get at least eight hours of sleep at night. Shut off your laptops and smartphones. Bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed. Cover your windows with blackout curtains. (Preferably before you lie down.) Sleep without interruption until daybreak. Please. By the time Julie and I get the kids down at night, it's 8:30 or 9. We generally go our separate ways and put in another 90 minutes to two hours. Julie is wrapping up her Ph.D. this fall. I'm working on that project I promised I'd tell you more about soon. Did I mention we like to spend at least a couple of minutes together at night, just the two of us? It's hard to stay married if you never see each other. It's not the same when the children are awake. They're always so ... needy. Most of

Much of what you know and believe about the world comes from a very specialized set of experiences. Your wisdom relies on the people you know, the challenges you've faced and the wins you've successfully accomplished. You don't know what I know. And I certainly don't know what you know. That's why we share. It's why we blog. It's why we post on Facebook and pin on Pinterest and tweet on Twitter. It's why we shut off all of these platforms and seek out real-life experiences with others. Unless you believe everyone in your world is purely a self-promoter, you understand the value of relationship and hearing from other people. That's true even if their experiences don't line up with your own. For all parents, being part of the community means having a support network. The network affirms what you already know: Your role in your child's life is important, but you can't control everything. And that's OK. Just be available in ca

A couple years ago, as I returned home from a business trip visiting farms in Wisconsin, I masterfully multi-tasked by driving and talking on the phone. I bet you've tried it before, too. It's a particularly sensible practice on a two-lane highway that feeds into a busy airport. It's even smarter when you are distracted by the topic of the conversation, which in this case happened to be: Are you sure you're ready to adopt a baby? Julie wasn't posing the question. Our adoption agency was to blame. "How dare they!" you might be thinking. "An upstanding and principled family such as the House of Birt must never be brought low by a double-crossing adoption agency. Why, I'd give them my own child if the state would allow it. And if I didn't need them to care for me in my infirm years!" Well, dear friend, I have to challenge you -- and I'll do so politely because you said so many nice things about my family -- because this is actual

I'm working on a big project that represents both a personal milestone and what I hope will be a tremendous help to parents seeking to build their families. Shh ... don't tell anyone just yet. I'll share more details soon! In the meantime, the process of putting in extra hours early in the morning and late at night got me to thinking: What does it take for worn out parents to get ahead on the things that matter to them? From my own personal experience, it requires at least three daily personal reminders. Equip yourself with these tools and you'll command your destiny: You have gifts. Too often, we resign ourselves to second-class status because it takes copious energy and fight to bust it day in and day out. We just don't have it in us. Or so we think. But I'd remind you of Paul's instructions to the young preacher Timothy: "Do not neglect the gift you have" ( I Timothy 4:14, ESV ). Each of us has unique talents and gifts to give the world

There is a secret I have been keeping from you. I attribute it to the lot my parents cast by placing me squarely into the millennial generation. (Well, old millennial , anyway. Some days, when my kids push my buttons, ancient.) Do you want to know what it is? I don't have any more of a clue how to parent than you did when you were my age. I'm simply making it up as I go along, relying on the best book I've found to provide my children with a moral framework and a lot of friends and family who successfully raised young people before me. Sure, parenting in the 21st century presents plenty of challenges. You can see and hear an abundance of bad stuff at every turn. The technology and privilege of American life provide unlimited access to all kinds of vices. But despite the fact that common sense isn't common, as one of my friends likes to say, there are still plenty of parents earnestly trying to do right by their children. They are raising them to be other-centri

One boy broke into tears after a stray basketball bonked him in the head. A girl hung her head and slumped her shoulders after repeatedly aiming for the basket and failing to land a shot. Such was the last session of a five-day youth basketball camp Micah attended this week. I worked through lunch and took a break early afternoon to watch the final day. Micah really wanted to show off his skills. He was the first youngster to rush to the center of the court and sit down at the coach's request. He hustled through all of the exercises -- dribbling forward and backward, carefully navigating around tiny fluorescent hubcaps, sprinting across the court. I couldn't help but admire his persistence. Granted, he's my oldest son and I beamed when I saw how he respected and honored his coach by listening and following instructions. But beyond that, Micah and all of his teammates impressed on me the value of youthful energy and stick-to-it spirit. Sure, some of them cried and need

...because Mamaw never forgets about you. It's incredible to me that to this very day, Mamaw (aka my grandma, aka my mom's mom) still sends me handwritten letters. It isn't once in a blue moon. It's a good twice or more per month. She has been doing this as long as I can remember, certainly since college began 14 years ago and probably earlier. Mamaw fights through arthritis and shaky hands, and she is extremely self-aware in her letters, apologetic for words that don't look quite right or the fact it has taken two or three days to piece together enough content sufficient to place in the mail. She is unafraid to admit loneliness after the passing of my grandfather this past November. I love how she observes the world. A city girl who spent most of her life in the country, Mamaw is acutely aware of how the weather changes from day to day and shares as rain turns to ice turns eventually to mud puddles. She is deeply empathetic. Her letters are filled with musi

Editor's note: My wife, Julie, surprised me this week with this guest post she wrote -- equal parts beautiful and heartbreaking --  to commemorate the anniversary of our embryo transfer. I should say her  embryo transfer because she carried our amazing little girl for nine months. Thank you, sweetheart, for memorializing three precious lives and our experience. You are amazing. -Nate Exactly one year ago today, after many shots, pills and privacy probing doctor’s appointments, we had finally arrived at embryo transfer day. I was so nervous on this day and hormonal! We had planned to have the embryologist thaw out two of the three embryos we had adopted for transfer. After I had gotten changed in the prep room into a hospital gown for the transfer, our coordinator brought us back a photo of the embryo that was ready to transfer. I remember looking at Nate in awe at the little ball of cells that would become a baby. Then the questions started forming in mind: What about the other

This post is purposefully brief. I have no experience with infertility personally, but I have tremendous empathy for couples that live with this reality every day. I heartily encourage you to read a recent open letter on the subject of how to support couples facing infertility from Matt Arbo, director of the Center for Faith and Public Life at Oklahoma Baptist University, and author of the newly released book, Walking Through Infertility . "Recognizing that many couples in your church community are struggling with this will invariably change the way you think about your community," Arbo writes  in a guest post at Crossway.org. Think differently. Live with open arms for those whose experiences differ from your own. And offer your support and compassion at every turn.

In many ways, raising and parenting a child whose genetic heritage is not the same as your own is no different than raising or parenting any child. All children have basic needs common to all people, including food and affection, as well as age-appropriate needs (e.g. diaper changes and burping). But this unique form of parenting also raises some questions that wouldn't cross most parents' minds. One I've heard a lot is: Aren't you afraid that one day, your baby's placing family will decide they want her back and take her? I want to assure you that if you are considering embryo adoption, you shouldn't let this fear haunt your decision. Let me explain why. It is indeed true that in the case of conventional domestic adoptions, birth mothers have the opportunity to keep their baby rather than placing him or her for adoption. Adoption Network Law Center has done a nice job compiling the various state-level requirements for parental consent  before an adoptio

If you have enjoyed the blessing of good parents, you probably have a collection of favorite memories you can bring to mind at a moment's notice. In my case, some of those memories include historic homes with empty corridors, long shadows and echoes of the past. You see, I have always been drawn magnetically to a good ghost story. I grew up on the "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" series by Alvin Schwartz and the "Goosebumps" series by R.L. Stine. My dad purposefully chose allegedly haunted locations for family stays and tours -- among them, Hotel Colorado in Glenwood Springs, Colo., and the Whaley House in San Diego, Calif. Once during a summer back in Colorado from college, my mom scheduled a special tour of the Stanley Hotel in Estes park. We were the only ones on the tour. It's OK if this sounds completely weird to you. It made complete sense to me. My parents knew what interested me and, rather than shying away from a young man's seemingly b

Phoebe had an absolutely exhausting day. We've been on a grand tour of Springfield, Mo., and today visited the aquarium at Wonders of Wildlife -- such a treasure -- and attended our first Springfield Cardinals minor league baseball game. You'd think after all that running around, Phoebe would be exhausted. Instead, she had nothing but grins and coos until 10:30, when she zonked out in my arms. Babies get a bad rap for being messy, fussy, needy and generally of ill intent, particularly from people without children. If you are reading this post, though, you probably know better. Even children under age 1 can be adorable, endearing and soak up their surroundings with minimal effort on your part. Rather than being startled into tears by the end-of-game fireworks display, Phoebe ate it up. She stared in wonder as lights illuminated the darkened sky. Her chubby legs and feet with purple socks remained still. Evidently, baseball brings out true joy in the heart of a three-

Julie and I enjoyed a delightful evening with longtime friends for the Fourth of July. The day ended with 360 degrees of fireworks around their home in southwest Missouri. There is a visceral excitement surrounding Independence Day. You can feel the explosive "pop" of fireworks as they launch from the ground and again when they burst apart mid-air. Every flash of light, every report -- the booms and the screams -- rekindles memories of my childhood in Colorado. My family would pack up our lawn chairs and head to a nearby golf course to watch fireworks launched from the Boulder County Fairgrounds. More recently, we've joined my parents to watch displays against the backdrop of the Flatirons. Yet for all of the similarities fireworks share, each is unique. There is fresh excitement for the observer because it's impossible to predict what the next display will look like, exactly. If you are a parent, you understand that watching your children mature similarly e

I'm grateful to one of my readers who recently posted a completely fair question to the blog: Why did you decide to pursue embryo adoption even though you didn't face infertility? Julie and I made sure to address this issue right up front in the letter we wrote to the couple that eventually became our placing family. ( Note:  A placing family is adoption lingo for a couple whose embryos have been frozen. Without our placing family, little Phoebe wouldn't be part of our household. John and Kris, we'll never be able to adequately thank you! We're honored to be on this journey with you.) You see, there were at least five primary reasons we chose embryo adoption: Friends of friends had successfully adopted embryos and brought them to term Julie's background is as a scientist studying infertility, specifically endometriosis We had discussed adoption since before we were married 10 years ago As Christians, we believe life begins at conception, and that eve

My son Titus recently joked: "Daddy, I'm going to get you a birthday card. On the cover, it's going to say: Dumb." Innocence, once lost, is hard to regain. I broke out laughing at my son's silly Hallmark slogan. But cruelty doesn't retain its boyish charm. This past Wednesday, I crafted my Sunday sermon titled, "How Can America Regain Its Innocence?" On Thursday, a gunman stormed the Capital Gazette newsroom in Annapolis, Md., and claimed the lives of five innocent people , including editors and reporters tasked with sharing stories of the place they called home. In journalism school, I used to dream of reaching the big time as a war correspondent for The New York Times. I never imagined fellow Americans could feel emboldened to bring violence to the door of newsrooms. As parents, incidents such as this one are a sobering reminder of our great challenge: to leave the world a better place than we found it. The ideas we foster today among o