The practice of 'embryo adoption' pushes white-hot political questions on both stem cell research and abortion. The Johnsons were among the families who met with President Bush to underscore his opposition to lifting limits on embryonic stem cell research.

"We basically have 10 adoptive children that went on before us and we basically have one" here now, said Johnson, who with her husband, Steve, "adopted" an embryo through a Christian-based organization committed to bringing frozen embryos into the world.

By arrangement with the Snowflakes Frozen Embryo Adoption Program, Kate, a speech pathologist, and Steve Johnson, a financial planner, were accepted as prospective parents by two couples who did not want to see embryos remaining from their in-vitro fertilization process destroyed, used for research or kept in frozen limbo. After 10 attempts, the 11th implant survived, and little Zara was born to Kate.

"To us they (embryos) are like another child that need adopting -- just much younger," said Kate.

White-Hot Political Questions

While the Johnsons rejoice over Zara, the practice of "embryo adoption" pushes white-hot political questions on both stem cell research and abortion. The Johnsons were among the families who met with President Bush on Tuesday to underscore his opposition to lifting limits on embryonic stem cell research. The measure to lift limits passed the House 238-194, but fell short of a veto-proof two-thirds majority.

Snowflakes (the term describes the appearance of fertilized cells) "defines where life starts in particular, not just rhetorically," said Adam Pertman, Boston-based director of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute in New York City and author of "Adoption Nation." Indeed, he prefers the word "embryo transfer" to "embryo adoption."

The Snowflakes program was launched in 1997 by the nonprofit, state-licensed Nightlight Christian adoption agency in Fullerton, Calif., in response to the boom in in-vitro fertilization. Often 10 to 20 or more eggs are fertilized and frozen for implantation; after the last sucessful pregnancy or for other reasons, the couple must then decide what to do with the leftover eggs.

The Snowflakes political stance is clear: "We view the embryo as a preborn child," said director Lori Maze.

Open Adoption Model

While fertility clinics often provide frozen embryos to couples anonymously, Snowflake uses an open adoption model to match genetic and adoptive parents. Genetic couples specify the kind of homes desired and Snowflakes staff will screen couples, conduct home studies and provide counseling to both parties, who may meet.

Thus far, 81 Snowflakes babies have been born.

Snowflakes genetic and adoptive families may agree to stay in close contact, even becoming one "extended" family. This mirrors open-adoption practices long advocated by adoption activists, such as Pertman.

Couples must agree to carry all babies to term -- "there's no abortion of a child with Down syndrome," Maze said. If couples raise questions of what to do if the mother's life is endangered, Maze said, they will be told "this is not the right program" for them.

Still, if embryos fail to come to term, no one is blamed. "At least we've given them a chance" at life, Maze said. "There is some comfort not being left in the frozen orphanage forever."

Other aspects of the Snowflakes program trouble Pertman. "If we get to a point that people say, 'I can have a newborn,' what are the consequences for the 3-year-old who needs a home?" he said.

For information, go to www.snowflakes.org.