A Perilous Conception
Page 27
“I’m sorry you can’t understand, Dad. Sorry for both of us.”
Whatever he was going to say next catches in his throat. He coughs, chokes. I fill a glass of water from the pitcher at his bedside, help him down a few swallows.
He looks back my way, calmer now. “Well, he’s a beautiful child, Colin. However he got here, he’s my grandson, and I’m grateful to have seen him. Please take good care of him and his mother.”
“I will. Promise.”
***
As Robbie and I start down the sidewalk, he says, “Your daddy’s nice, Uncle Colin.”
“Yes, he is. Did you like talking to him?”
“Oh, sure. And I liked the cookies too. Now, can we go get what you promised me for pretending you’re my daddy?”
“You bet. Double-dip cone, right?”
“Chocolate. Both scoops.”
“But don’t forget, not a word to Mommy about pretending. It’s our secret.”
He laughs, then tugs at my hand. “I like it when I stay with you. We always have lots of fun. Mommy doesn’t let me have ice cream and cookies. She says sugar is bad for kids, but I don’t think it’s bad.” A cloud spreads across his face. “I wish you really were my daddy.”
Sucker punch. I never did believe people actually die of heartbreak, but in this moment, I’m not sure. I struggle for breath. Robbie looks up at me like a curious little bird on a branch. “Are you okay, Uncle Colin?”
Kid misses nothing. “Sure I’m okay. I wish I were your daddy, too. But being your uncle’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
His smile clears the cloud. I’ve seen that expression for a lot of years, reflected back at me from mirrors. Sometimes, when Robbie and I are playing, I catch Joyce looking from one of us to the other. But she never says anything, and neither do I.
“Come on,” I say. “Ice-cream cones, then we’re going to pick up Uncle Bernie. Don’t want to keep him waiting. We’re going to the fireworks, remember?”
He jumps up and down. “I love fireworks. We gonna watch them up real close?”
“No other way to do it. That’s why we’re going early. Get a good place to sit.”
“I want Uncle Bernie to tell me stories about those bad guys he catches with his private eye.” I see wheels turning in the kid’s head. “Uncle Colin, does Uncle Bernie always catch the bad guys?”
I brush my hand over that unruly clump of hair above his right ear. “Bet on it, Kiddo. No bad guy ever gets away from your Uncle Bernie.”
Author’s Note
The 1970s were an exciting time in medical science. The word “engineering,” whether in reference to manipulation of naturally-occurring genetic material or the natural method of reproduction, set off fierce debates in medical, social, and religious circles.
The initial response to any new idea is usually a strong negative, and Reproductive Engineering was no exception. One of the hottest wrangles in this field centered on in vitro fertilization, the insemination of an egg and subsequent early embryonic development in a laboratory vessel. Opponents argued that this would be disastrous, that there likely would be monstrously abnormal babies and children with severe emotional problems; furthermore, the institutionalization of reproduction would mean the end of family life as we know it, and before long there would be government-mandated organized breeding of supermen, and restricted reproduction by persons deemed less desirable.
Proponents claimed that in vitro fertilization would alleviate a form of human suffering, the anguish of couples unable to have children naturally, and that these babies would be people who’d otherwise have no lives at all. It was further argued that since research in humans and other animals indicated that damage to very early embryos had an all-or-nothing effect (either the embryo died at that point, or survived to be born normal), the risk of increased birth defects seemed small. As for governmental intervention in reproduction, the point was made that governments already had ample means to manipulate populations at gunpoint; the problem was not the sperm, but the gun. As for in vitro fertilization causing sweeping changes in our social structure, particularly our family lives, it was suggested that if this unlikely eventuality really did come to pass, it might not necessarily be bad.
With time, people usually come around to accept change, and thirty-three years after the birth of the first IVF baby, the dispute over in vitro fertilization appears resolved. Millions of humans have received the gift of life through union of a spermatozoon and an egg in a plastic dish, rather than a fallopian tube. Yes, there have been some abuses of the procedure, but the negative effect on society has been, at most, negligible.
***
As a young doctor doing a laboratory fellowship in Reproductive Genetics, I was fortunate to have a front-row seat at the race to produce the first IVF baby. From the outset, the team of Drs. Robert G. Edwards and Patrick Steptoe were in the lead, and they crossed the finish line with the birth of Louise Joy Brown, on July 25, 1978. Dr. Edwards had begun his goal-directed studies on in vitro fertilization and ovum/embryo culture in the mid-1960s at Johns Hopkins University, then went back to England and teamed up with Dr. Steptoe, a gifted pioneer in the use of the laparoscope. By the mid-seventies, it appeared that Edwards and Steptoe might announce success at any time, and suspense was tremendous. Still, scientists around the world kept at work. But in many countries, the USA included, direct or indirect governmental opposition hampered investigators.
The great majority of contestants were honest, honorable scientists and doctors, but in the frenzy to claim the prize, some interesting chicanery surfaced. The Law of Publish or Perish was not suspended, and I heard accusations that some scientists, in an attempt to add to their list of publications without giving aid to the enemy, had omitted small but critical considerations in their protocols, such as the constitution of culture medium. A prominent worker in the field was discredited and disgraced when word got out that he’d avoided having to pay fees for anonymous sperm donors by providing samples himself for his experiments. Another highly-regarded scientist lost all his credibility when he announced success with in vitro fertilization, but could not provide proof. An obstetrician in New York with much-questioned scientific credentials claimed to have fertilized an egg with sperm from the woman’s husband, but before he could replace the embryo into the woman’s uterus, his department chairman learned of his clandestine operation, and disposed of the contents of the test tube. (Yes, it was a test tube, not a petri dish). The upshot was a lengthy, acrimonious, highly-publicized trial. Emotions became so intense, I remember thinking someone could end up murdered.
To the best of my knowledge, though, no one did get murdered or even blackmailed in connection with the in vitro fertilization race. The specific events in A Perilous Conception are entirely of my imagination, as are the people who populate the pages of the book. No relationship should be inferred between these characters and any real person, living or dead.
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