Inconceivable (8 page)

“Did you call the doctor?”

“Yes. We need to leave for an ultrasound. You need to wake MK, get her packed up and in her car seat. When that is all done, I’ll get in the car.”

I could hear MK crying as Sean woke her and bundled her up to go out in the cold. I felt bad for disrupting her nap. I felt bad for all of the disruptions. Mary Kate was growing and developing so rapidly as she neared her first birthday. I already recognized how distracted I’d become by this pregnancy, and I knew that she, Drew, and Ryan weren’t getting the attention they deserved. But this time was crucial for MK. How was I going to concentrate on her milestones—first steps, first words—without thinking about how I wasn’t going to get to see this baby pass those same milestones? I was so torn. Here was my precious daughter, the baby Sean and I had
struggled for so long to have, and I was barely attending to some of the most important passages in her young life.

I carefully walked to the car and sat very still while we made our way to Dr. Read’s office. It was a perfectly sunny day, and as we exited the highway to pull into her lot we fretted over what we were about to see. I thought of the ultrasound where we’d seen MK’s dead twin in my uterus, then the horrid ultrasound in November 2006 when we were blindsided by the news that our baby had died in utero. I didn’t want my body to fail another innocent life. I was petrified. Yet wouldn’t a miscarriage be an escape? A way out? It didn’t feel that way.

“This is probably the end,” Sean said.

“I hope not,” I replied.

“Me too,” Sean said.

We were praying for this child, rooting for him or her with everything we had.

As the ultrasound image came up on the screen, I held my breath. I wanted to be the baby’s biggest cheerleader and protector. So I prayed for the baby and for myself.

Please, God. Please don’t let this baby die. Please, God, protect him or her. Let this baby grow to be healthy. Let this baby have a strong body and a stronger mind. Allow this baby to grow to know the joy of breathing and the opportunity to feel love. Please don’t take this baby from me. Not now. Not before I can give the gift of life and I can receive that gift as well.

“Well, there you go. That’s why you are bleeding.”

Linda pointed to a big black blob underneath the gestational sac. I looked at Sean and shared with him the joy he reflected back to me. We both looked at the ultrasound screen again.

“Is that a subchorionic hematoma?”

In my hours and hours of reading about the science of pregnancy and what can go wrong, I had learned much about the conditions that cause a miscarriage. The subchorionic hematoma is a blood clot that forms, usually in the first trimester, and is far more common in
IVF pregnancies. My bleeding was the clot draining. The chances of a miscarriage because of a subchorionic were less than 2 percent. Linda continued searching.

“Uh…no heartbeat yet, but the baby has grown since Friday, and the gestational sac looks good. Everything is measuring right on target. Now the blood is sitting on your cervix, so you are probably going to have more bleeding.”

She captured a bunch of images and escorted us to an examining room to meet with Dr. Read, who said the blood would either drain or reabsorb. Though Dr. Read was confident that the clot would not harm the baby, I asked for another blood test so we could confirm that my pregnancy hormones—the HCG reading—were continuing to rise. I knew that a fetal heartbeat would be detectable at 5,000. I wanted to double-check that the jig wasn’t already up.

Dr. Read agreed and handed me a lab slip. We scheduled another ultrasound in four days, and Linda shared with us that if there was no heartbeat by then, there would be reason for concern. Dr. Read said to take it easy until then—lifting MK was fine, but nothing more strenuous.

On the car ride home, I fretted about what the boys would think. My guess was that they were already suspicious. Poor Ryan heard me screaming in the bathroom for the phone, then Sean arrived in the middle of the day. Next thing he knew, we were scurrying out the door. Ryan asked where we were going, but we didn’t answer. He asked again…still no answer. Then he said, “Never mind.” How was I supposed to pretend that everything was fine when I was lying in bed all day?

The next day, when I had to drive to the lab for blood work, I knew that, even as light as she was, I should put MK in the stroller and wheel her into the lab. I was feeling weak and woozy from all the blood loss, but I had to continue to be a mom, to run the house and provide the meals. I was trying to figure out what we needed for dinner as I pulled into the pharmacy drive-thru to retrieve pre
scriptions. When it was my turn at the window, I reached back for my purse. Where was it? I twisted around to check the backseat, but it wasn’t there. I’d left my purse at the lab. “Sweet mother of God, can I catch a break, please?” I screamed in my car. I caught the startled look of the pharmacist, who I’m pretty sure was glad that there was a pane of bulletproof glass between us.

After I got my purse and returned for the prescriptions, I had to pick up Drew early from school for an orthodontist appointment. While he was at the doctor, I shuffled through the market like I was eighty years old. I figured keeping my legs together would prevent the baby from falling out. After the appointment, Drew wasn’t feeling well, so I took him home instead of back to school. There I got a call from Dr. Read’s office saying my blood work was good. I lay down that afternoon in hopes of resting while Mary Kate napped.

Sleep had been elusive since we learned of the mistake. I needed to get to a point where the situation wasn’t consuming my thoughts every minute of the day. I prayed for the strength to move past my anger toward the person in the laboratory who made the mistake. I knew I had a right to be angry, but I didn’t want to walk around being mad all day. How could I forgive this person? Did I have to forgive him or her? Was that the only way I would get some peace?

Focus on the baby
, I thought. We’d just dodged a tragedy. The baby was strong, and I was strong enough to survive this.

SEAN

That night I couldn’t sleep, and I saw that Carolyn was restless too. It seemed silly to pretend that either of us was sleeping when we both were so shaken. I touched her on the shoulder, and she opened her eyes immediately. “Carolyn, that drive to the ultrasound was terrifying,” I said. “I
can’t imagine what it was like for you. The fear of losing the baby is still with me.”

“I know,” she said as she turned to face me. “With all the problems we’ve had lately, it surprised me how much I love this child already.”

“The baby is already part of our family,” I said.

As we lay in bed I started to understand that the child inside of Carolyn was now someone I needed to protect. How long he or she would be with us was already defined by law and by the choices we made, but for these eight months I was the baby’s father. After that, Carolyn and I would want to be a part of the baby’s life, but it would never be the same kind of connection we were going to have for these few months. Although I never could fully comprehend what Carolyn was going through, I could support her by taking on the planning and organizing needed to set up a structure that would guide us throughout the pregnancy. And that was a task that played to my strengths.

Ever since I was young, I have been someone who likes to plan out everything. My parents taught me the importance of planning, and I went into a profession where I help individuals and families plan for their futures. My own financial planning began at age five when my mom drove me to the bank to open a savings account in my name. When I had earned enough money for a deposit, I loved watching the teller make another entry in my ledger book and seeing my balance increase. Heck, I do not think I took a withdrawal out of that bank account until I paid a college tuition bill.

After our sessions with Kevin Anderson and the one with Father Cardone the day we found out about the pregnancy, I had written down several lists of action items. When I went for my run, they were just in my head. The next morning, after my talk with Carolyn, I woke up early so I would have time to write down everything that this mistake had introduced into our lives.

I began with the fundamental choices we made to (1) continue
the pregnancy and (2) not fight for custody. All of our problems and plans flowed from these two decisions. Next, I wrote down the tasks and difficulties that resulted from those two decisions and divided them into categories. When they became so numerous that they crowded the edge of the page, a light went on in my head. We needed a binder. I had to smile at that. There are few problems that can’t be solved with a big black binder.

As an adult, my ledger became my binders. I have binders for work, for all of the teams I coach, and for our own financial plans and estate planning. I got one of the black “mega” binders out of the box I keep in the basement. As with all of my binders, the new one needed a name to capture the essence of the situation. After some deliberation, I titled it “The Sean and Carolyn Savage CF File.” (If anyone asked, I decided I’d tell them CF stood for “Caring Family.”) Inside the binder I made a table of contents on a page entitled “Sean and Carolyn Savage: The Road Never Traveled.” I labeled the headings with letters A through Z, guessing that I’d be adding more categories in the next eight months.

a. Information from Clinic or Legal Representatives

b. Prioritization Categories and Timeline: The Lists

c. Family Law Information

d. Genetic Family Information and Communication

e. Communication Planning to Family and Friends

f. Savage Family Security Plan

g. Other Legal Issues

h. Expenses Incurred (Direct and Indirect)

i. Catholic Church Information

j. Medical Documentation: Ultrasound Pictures/Medical Records

For me the stiff dividers between the categories illustrated the structure that would support my view of the crisis and where it might lead. These eight months could bury us under paper if I let
them. I also got out the box of plastic sleeves I use to file documents. I knew from experience that, with plastic sleeves, if we had a question about one of our decisions or about what one of the other parties involved had said, we’d be able to get our hands on the answer in seconds. Slipping the handful of documents we’d already produced into the plastic made me feel as though we were starting to get a handle on the situation.

Then I devised another category—“Beyond the Stuff”—to cover the core emotional items, including:

• Open discussion of thoughts and feelings
  
• No judgment
  
• Discussions twice a week on personal impact
  
• Control anxiety and limit turning into opponents of each other
  

These last categories were the most important because they would support our psychological well-being.

As the Friday ultrasound appointment approached, I comforted myself with the reminder that we were doing all we could. Either there would be a heartbeat or the pregnancy was over. We would be capable of dealing with either of those outcomes.

At Dr. Read’s, Carolyn handed Mary Kate to me right away, and together we walked into the ultrasound room. Linda was in a good mood, as always, remarking on how cute MK’s outfit was and ready with a quip about the crappy weather. Carolyn assumed her position on the ultrasound table, while I sat next to her, gripping MK like a security blanket. Carolyn closed her eyes as Linda prepped her for the ultrasound.

As Linda turned on the screen and grabbed the wand, I know Carolyn was saying a little prayer for the baby and for us. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, when Linda said, “Well, guys, we have a ticker.”

“Thank God,” Carolyn whispered. The baby’s heartbeat was a mere ninety-five beats per minute.

“Is that normal?” Carolyn asked.

“Yes, it probably just started beating this morning,” Linda said.

Carolyn and I smiled for the first time since the day we received the news. When I saw the heartbeat, the pregnancy went from an intangible to an absolute. We just watched this child’s heart start to beat. In a few weeks, he or she would have legs, feet, arms, fingers, and toes, all because of Carolyn. This was real. This was life. At this point, the thought of giving up this baby seemed inconceivable.

As we walked out, Carolyn was beaming. She said, “A heart holds a person’s soul. It allows one to love, and to be loved.” Love feeds the heart, and now this baby’s was growing. I think it was at that very moment that this little person burrowed into our hearts forever.

C
HAPTER
6

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

O
UR LAWYER SENT
this note to the genetic parents’ lawyer on March 11, 2009.

Attached please find an ultrasound taken on this date. My clients would like your clients to know that as of March 11, 2009, the baby was measuring 7w1d and had a heart rate of 129 beats per minute indicating continued healthy development. Their next appointment and ultrasound is scheduled for Tuesday, March 24, 2009. If anything develops with the pregnancy before then, they will communicate that through my office.

At this early stage, my clients are not comfortable agreeing to further communication. They will continue to provide updates regarding medical progress after appointments. They will also communicate any other developments that arise regarding the health and development of the pregnancy.

My clients do request that your clients understand how devastated they are by this situation. Their journey to expanding their family has consumed the past twelve years of their lives and has included a lot of loss and heartbreak along the way. They are still in shock regarding this situation and are fraught with anxiety regarding the long-lasting ramifications that this situation will have on their family and lives. They are simply trying to cope with their grief at this early stage.