Making Babies
It's an expensive gamble, but childless couples are trying reproductive therapy in record numbers
It is implantation day for some of the toughest cases at the Sher Institutes for Reproductive Medicine in Las Vegas. The couples that pass through this place, headquarters for one of the largest chains of infertility clinics in America, are seasoned pros in the quest to make babies. They have tried shots and surrogates and have graduated to advanced treatments beyond their wildest calculations. Most of them have already undergone two or more in vitro fertilization attempts with other doctors, and some 75 percent of them have traveled from out of state to try again. It is an arduous process, not without its embarrassments. One couple speaks of feeling ridiculous racing through rush-hour traffic to deliver sperm gathered at home to the clinic; another describes an earlier treatment when the doctor, in a lame effort at humor, dressed in a bunny suit on egg retrieval day, in preparation for his "Easter hunt."
It is also expensive. The couples in this waiting room have spent tens--and hundreds--of thousands of dollars on infertility treatments. They have gambled big, won, and lost. Robert and Bernadette from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., have spent $200,000 so far on doctors and medicine, and are back in the city for another IVF attempt. They have flown so often to Las Vegas that a friend unaware of their plight confronted them because he feared they had a serious gambling problem. "In a way," Robert ventures, "we do."
It is indeed a gamble but one an increasing number of couples are willing to take. A quarter century after the first "test tube" baby, the use of assisted reproductive technology (ART) has risen astronomically. In the past decade alone, the number of ART babies has quadrupled, from 10,924 in 1994 to 40,687 in 2001, the most recent figure available. Today 1 in 100 children in this country is conceived with such treatments, but the industry itself remains largely unregulated, sparking calls for more rigorous reporting of data and more research on the possible risks of ART.
But the rewards are great--the joys of parenthood make any sacrifice seem worthwhile to the many childless couples passing through the Sher Institutes' doors.
Take Steven and Mary Crespi. They have a daughter, JayCee, 2, from a previous IVF attempt. Etched beneath a heart tattooed on Steven's arm is Daddy's Girl. Now they're trying for a sibling. When Mary, 40, miscarried twins during her last IVF pregnancy, Steven, a bartender and host at a club in town, was devastated. "He didn't talk for two days," says Mary. Steven nods vigorously. "I didn't." For almost a year, Mary adds, "he's been really angry." Steven nods again, this time more slowly. "I swore," he says, "that I would never. Do this. Again." And yet, they have taken out a second mortgage on their house and are back at Sher.
So are Irene and her husband, Peter, from Chicago. They estimate they have spent nearly $300,000 on several surrogates as well as IVF. In their case, medical insurance paid half of their IVF bills, a rarity in the United States, where 85 percent of insured Americans have policies that will not cover that treatment. Over the past several years, Irene and Peter have had three IVF treatments per year. Today they are tense as they file out of the room where Irene's eggs, fertilized with her husband's sperm, have just been implanted in their surrogate. Irene had wanted four eggs implanted, to increase the odds of a success, while her husband wanted three, to decrease the chances of the complications that come with multiple births. They argued, but Irene prevailed, and now she clutches a photograph of one of their newly fertilized eggs. As its cells have divided, it has grown to look like a beautiful flower, she says. Peter disagrees. "What it looks like," he says from his seat on the other side of the waiting room, "is a nuclear bomb."
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