Inconceivable (35 page)

If I could have stopped time, I would have. I wrapped my arms around Logan’s chubby little body and instinctively pulled him to my chest. I imagined a puzzle piece snapping into place in that moment. As though the rest of my lungs had just been inflated. His head instinctively tucked in under my chin, and I lowered my face and kissed him gently on his head.

“Hi, sweetie,” I said. I caught Sean’s eye. He was watching me carefully, but with love and pride. Later he said I looked as though I was trying to download every feature of Logan’s face to update my brain files. I smiled back. We were reading one another’s minds.

Sean and I handed him off to one another, politely fighting over who was getting a fair “turn” at snuggling with the baby. The twins played with MK. Drew and Ryan both took turns doting over Logan. At one moment, Mary Kate walked by, smiled at Logan, and murmured “baby”—a far different response than she’d had in September. We’d all grown a little.

At one point, Logan needed a new diaper, and I offered to change him. I took him back to the changing table in our laundry room, and Sean followed me as if he was coming to help. I laid Logan down, and he looked up and smiled and cooed.

“What a happy child.”

“You want to make a run for it?” Sean quipped.

I laughed, shook my head, picked Logan up, and walked back into the family room and handed him to Shannon for his bottle.

As she fed him, I watched. She was fastidious with him. The burp cloth was tucked under his chin to prevent formula dribble, which I knew would make my mom happy. He was clearly adored by his mommy and daddy, and he was dressed to the nines in a pair of brown corduroy overalls and matching socks, which I loved.
When I noticed his feet, I looked to his footprint that hung on our tree.

He is growing.

Shannon cuddled him to her while he ate, and then he settled in on her shoulder for a snooze.

He fits with her. He belongs to her.

Before I knew it, it was approaching nine o’clock, time for them to go. We all said our good-byes, and Sean and I thanked them again and again for bringing Logan for this visit. I watched Paul strap Logan into his car seat. Once again, he placed Logan on the counter. He asked me to watch Logan while they loaded the twins into the car. I stuck my face in the seat and got nose to nose with my Little Man.

“Bye-bye, sweetie. Mama loves you. Don’t ever forget that. Know that in your heart, Little Man.” I kissed him gently on the forehead.

Paul came back in to carry Logan to the car. As I watched them pull out of the driveway and off into the darkness, I surprised myself. I wasn’t overcome with grief. I felt more of a relief from the emptiness in my heart.

I lay in bed that night with a feeling of gratitude that I hadn’t felt before. Not only was I grateful to Paul and Shannon for allowing us a visit, but I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the insights that the visit had allowed.

I saw what we had done. Paul and Shannon loved their son. He was healthy and happy. Their lives were better because of Logan. He was a gift that they obviously treasured. I understood that now.

I was also overwhelmed with a sense of comprehension. I got it now.

Your job was to give this gift. Now your role is to stand back and watch Logan grow from afar.

All of the grief, pain, and tears were worth it because of this child. And even though we may never be part of his life, he will
always be part of ours. The pain of his loss may never leave us, but it will eventually be conquered by love.

Sean and I will walk on, searching for answers that we may never have. We will overturn stones and move mountains to channel our grief in a more productive direction, and the strength to do this will come from love—the love we have for one another, and the love we have for our children. All four of them.

I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer to Logan.

Your birth was a blessing. Your life is a gift. And your mama and daddy love you very, very much. I’ve seen it with my own eyes and felt it with my own heart, so I know it is true. Sleep tight, Little One. Godspeed.

E
PILOGUE

A Letter to Logan

September 24, 2010

Dear Logan,

It’s hard to imagine that this time last year I was in the operating room, waiting eagerly for you to take your first breath. The moment you were born was one of the most joyous of my life. I will never forget how happy I was when I heard your first cry, and how relieved I was when Sean held your sweet face to mine and the nurse told me that you were perfectly healthy. It was in that moment that I knew you would never leave my heart. And you haven’t.

It amazes me how often I think of you. In the first moments of my day, when I’m reviewing my “to-do” list, you creep in to my thoughts. I say a prayer for you then, hoping that the day brings you peace, happiness and health; that your minutes are full of fun, love and adventure; and that maybe—just maybe—today will be a day that we get a message about your progress.

As I tackle the routine of my day, you are with me. Sometimes when I’m packing lunches for our boys, I wonder what you like to eat. When I’m playing with MK, I wonder who is playing with you. I imagine how happy MK would have been to have you for a little brother. You two would have had great
fun together. Those moments are sad for me, but I’m getting better at turning away from them. I don’t have it mastered yet, but I hope someday the “what ifs” won’t haunt me as often.

Amazingly, you’ve helped me through some tough times this past year. In January when the transfer of our two remaining embryos was unsuccessful and our chance to expand our family with our remaining embryos was lost, I relied on the thought of you to remind myself that some good came out of this. I know your parents and family love you very much and that they are happy that you are with them. We take solace in that.

Sean and I had a decision to make after our failed transfer. Do we try again? It was around then that we saw you for the second time, on national television. When we watched you that morning, sitting in your daddy’s lap as your mommy gushed about how much you were loved, our yearning for another child overwhelmed us. Seeing you, inspired us. I have no idea whether our new doctor, and subsequent treatments will result in a child for our family, but we are grateful that you gave us the strength to move forward.

We still struggle. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I see Sean sitting on the side of the bed staring out the window. I never ask what he is thinking. I already know. You see, night time is when we miss you the most. Sometimes, by staring up at the starry night, we comfort ourselves with the thought that that we are admiring the same sky that blankets you. Granted, the sky is vast, and you are far, far away, but it is one way that we feel connected to you. Right now, we’ll take any connection with you we can have.

Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking of you so much. I know there are people who think it would be best if I could forget about you. Maybe it would be, but I can’t. I have always understood the reason you are not being raised in our family. The hard part is that that logic has never translated to my heart.
I know now I wasn’t cut out to be a gestational carrier. I just couldn’t disconnect the way I needed to. I guess that is why it is so important that women who do become surrogates carefully consider their decision. I understand now what a difficult thing this is to do.

Most nights Sean and I go to sleep knowing nothing about how you’re doing. Even though that is hard, we have kept our word. From the beginning, we told your parents that we would never intrude in their lives, or in yours. We thought that was the most generous way to move forward. We still stand by our promise to stay away unless invited, but want you to know that our absence says nothing about our love for you. Please never doubt that we care about you more than you could ever imagine.

Sometimes we think you are luckiest little boy in the whole world. You have two parents who treasure you, two sisters who adore you, and an extended family that, we imagine, are grateful for the gift of your life. And you have us too. Our door will always be open to you. If you ever need anything, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your family, please know that we are here with open arms and loving hearts.

I hope you had a wonderful first birthday. I hope someone baked you a cake that you dug your chubby little fingers into, and that you made a glorious mess. I hope when they sang to you, you smiled brightly when you realized they were singing for you. I hope you opened a few gifts, but enjoyed the wrapping and the boxes more than the contents. And, most importantly, I hope you felt loved.

Happy birthday; sweet dreams; and Godspeed, Little Man. We will love your forever!

Carolyn and Sean

A
FTERWORD

C
AROLYN AND
I
STRUGGLED
over how to proceed legally with the clinic that made this error. We had never been involved in a lawsuit before and wanted to keep it that way. But this clinic and its personnel hurt us in many ways. We also felt we had a duty to protect other patients of this or other clinics from a similar fate. If we avoided a suit and agreed not to disclose the name of the clinic or how the mistake happened, we would not be comfortable that we did everything to make sure this mistake would not be repeated at this facility or any other facility.

The legal process we pursued was a facilitation in which both parties engage each other through a third party to try to reach an agreement that prevents a lawsuit from being filed. We entered this process open-minded, but understood resolution might not come through facilitation. At our first facilitation in October, just weeks after delivery of Logan, we walked into the law firm of the facilitator and past the conference room where our fertility doctor sat. As we passed by the large windows of that conference room, Carolyn grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. I knew she would rather be anywhere else than in that place at that time. By the time we arrived at our conference room, she seemed ready to escape through
the back door. The last time Carolyn and the doctor were this close he was performing the embryo transfer.

We spent five hours in the first facilitation, followed by two additional longer sessions in 2010. I think part of the strategy of these terribly long days is to motivate you to reach an agreement so that you can avoid ever having to go back. Each session produced a broad range of emotions from anger to sadness and, due to the absurdity of some of the legal arguments, even some humor. Following the third session some breakthroughs occurred and an agreement in principle was reached in May 2010. However, the process was far from over as it took well into November 2010 for the agreement to be signed by all parties.

As part of the settlement we agreed not to identify the clinic and the clinic agreed to pay us financial damages. The clinic also agreed to provide a full description of the mistake and how it was discovered as well as provide us documentation that it has implemented a revised protocol in its lab that would ensure that this mistake was never repeated. Written into the agreement was a clause that allowed Carolyn and I to release a summary of the medical mistake and revised protocol information to the public. We felt an obligation to share this with the IVF community including clinics, industry associations, current patients, and future patients.

Through this process Carolyn and I had to maintain a balance between protecting the public and having a level of compassion for the employees of the clinic. The professionals involved had spent their careers building an excellent reputation and we believed that they should continue to help couples have children.

The settlement did not feel like a victory to us. If anything, the process and ultimate resolution was sad and stressful and I am sure it was even more so for the clinic and our doctor. A settlement in a situation like this never gets you back to where you were before the mistake. We incurred massive costs that went well beyond expenses, stress that frequently took us to our knees, and lost time we
will never get back with those around us, especially our children.

Carolyn and I will be tithing funds from the settlement and the proceeds from the book into a community foundation under the name of the Carolyn and Sean Savage Family. With our guidance, each year Drew and Ryan (and eventually Mary Kate) will help select worthy charitable causes for the foundation to support. When the appropriate day arrives, Logan will be invited to help us direct funds from the foundation.

HOW THE MISTAKE HAPPENED

For nearly eighteen months, Carolyn and I lived knowing another couple’s embryos were transferred to Carolyn on February 6, 2009, but not knowing how the mistake was made or how it was discovered. Who was responsible? What went wrong? How did it get discovered? As part of a legal settlement in May 2010, the clinic’s lawyers provided an explanation. A synopsis of that explanation follows:

• Upon initiating our frozen embryo transfer, an employee of the clinic completed a thaw order document that listed the name of our fertility doctor, our names, Carolyn’s social security number, Carolyn’s date of birth, my date of birth, and our phone number. Once the physician’s staff forwarded the thaw order to the lab where the embryos were stored, the lab confirmed that it had received the order.
  
• With the order, an employee in the lab then printed labels containing all of the identifying information found on the thaw order. Every document pertaining to our frozen embryo transfer carried a label.
  ^*
  Important: These labels identified Carolyn’s year of birth incorrectly.
  
• The lab technician placed these labels on four pages called the patient jacket, an 11x17 sheet of paper folded in half. This jacket holds all the documents and laboratory notes on the development of the embryos along with the thaw order sheet, the receipt confirmation sheet and any leftover patient identification labels.
  
• On February 2, 2009, five days before our transfer, the embryologist used our identifying information on the thaw order in our patient jacket to pull our Embryo Information Sheet, a document that indicates the precise location of the cryopreservation tank, the canister and the straws that house our embryos. The clinic keeps their Embryo Information Sheets on every patient in a large binder in the lab organized alphabetically under the mother’s name.
  
• This embryologist looked at the thaw order document in our patient jacket, flipped to the “S” section of his binder, and incorrectly pulled Shannon Savage’s Embryo Information Sheet instead of Carolyn Savage’s (Shannon used her maiden name at the time of their original IVF procedure). Using location information from Shannon Savage’s Embryo Information Sheet, he pulled Shannon Savage-Morell/ Paul Morell’s embryos from the cryopreservation tank. Our embryos remained in cryopreservation. The Embryo Information Sheet, the only paperwork that documents that the embryos the embryologist pulled did not belong to Carolyn and me, was placed in the back of the patient jacket.
  
• From that moment on, Shannon and Paul’s embryos were associated with Carolyn and my paperwork. Since the lab associated their embryos with our paperwork, the name Savage was written on the Petri dish and the canister storing the embryos. Our patient jacket was stored right next to the canister holding the embryos. If anyone had checked the Embryo Information Sheet in our patient jacket, they would have found Shannon and Paul’s Embryo Information Sheet.
  
• For the five days that the embryos thawed and grew in the lab, the embryologist checked the embryos/labels against the identifying information in the patient jacket. However, the embryos/labels were not checked against the Embryo Information Sheet inside the patient jacket.
  
• On the transfer day February 6, 2009 the embryologist walked into the procedure room where Carolyn was lying awaiting the transfer. He confirmed Carolyn’s identity against the patient jacket he held in his hands.
  
• The doctor verbally conlrmed that three embryos would be transferred. Then the embryologist delivered three of Paul and Shannon’s embryos labeled with our names to the doctor. He also delivered the patient jacket to our doctor at this time.
  
• The doctor, trusting these were our embryos, did not cross check the Embryo Information Sheet held in the patient jacket and immediately transferred three of Paul and Shannon’s embryos to Carolyn.