Suzanne H. Rhodes - The Little Embryo That Could: Conquering Genetic Termination, Secondary Infertility, and Other Setbacks

Published by:

Suzanne H. Rhodes

www.suzannehrhodes.com

Copyright @ 2022 Suzanne Harris Rhodes

All rights reserved.

ISBNs:

978-0-578-36949-5 (print)

978-0-578-36950-1 (ebook)

The names of some characters in the book have been changed to protect identity.

The content of this book is not intended to replace medical advice with respect to infertility.

Cover and interior design by Gary A. Rosenberg

www.thebookcouple.com

Editing by Candace Johnson, Change It Up Editing

All poetry is the authors original work.

This book is dedicated to my son, Matthew Rhodes

Good things come to those who wait

~Unknown

Contents

Authors Note

I have included dated entries throughout the book of my correspondence to various members of two message boards, A Heartbreaking Choice (AHC), for women who terminated pregnancies due to fetal anomalies, and Subsequent Pregnancy Discussion (SPD), for women who were pregnant following such a previous termination.

Introduction

T his journey we call life takes many unexpected twists and turns, and every now and then, a series of wrong turns will lead to a pot of gold in the end. This book is about hardship, and also about the rewards life has to offer if one perseveres.

When I look at my son, I get teary-eyed at times. I feel like I am dreaminghis existence seems surreal. I never thought I would be sitting here looking at this towheaded, blue-eyed miracle who melts my heart every time I look at him. Many mothers take their children for granted, but not me. I have been given a gift beyond comparison, and I walked through the furnace to get it. I want to share my story with others to give them grounds for hope.

A couple of months before trying to conceive, I cut out all alcohol and weaned off my antidepressant medication, Prozac, to be on the safe side. I have suffered from chronic clinical depression since my late twenties. It runs in my family, and if I stay on the medication, I function sufficientlybut when Im not on it, I cry almost daily for no reason at all, even when things are going peachy in my life. I was ashamed for many years to have this condition, but now I realize its something beyond my control and that I am in good companymillions of others struggle with depression too.

It was July of 2000, and life was good. I convinced my husband, Mark, to have a third child after much effort. In a few months, our family would be complete. Simple enough.

It took several months of consideration to talk Mark into having another baby, as he did not share my enthusiasm for having more than two kids. He values his free time, and he is a fan of order and is not into noise and commotion as I am. I thrive on existence with animals and kids in my orbit who need and love me without conditionan engaging, boisterous household full of life. I couldnt get rid of that maternal drive to have another child. An inexplicable urge built inside me like a tidal wave that could not be suppressed.

I already had two beautiful daughters, Ally and Deborah, ages two and eleven. Their age span was so broad because my oldest daughter resulted from my first marriage six years earlier. I conceived my daughters without incident, each on the first attempt. The pregnancies were routine and uneventful. I was a baby-making machine.

With my first daughter, Deborah, I had an old-fashioned doctor who did not believe in doing sonograms, and at fourteen weeks, I declined the alpha-fetoprotein (AFP) test, which checks for Down syndrome and spina bifida. I was pretty much in the dark about my babys well-beingI went on blind faith that everything would be okay. After all, I was just twenty-three years old at the time of my first pregnancy.

Pregnant again at thirty-three with my second daughter, Ally, I declined the amniocentesis. After all, horrific things like that only happened to other people. If there had been a problem, I would not have terminated the pregnancy anyway.

Lucky for me, both girls were born healthy. I loved them so much, but I took it for granted that I had two healthy childrenthats just the way things were supposed to be. I had no idea of the events in store for my third child.

Let the games begin! The reproduction started in earnest. As you may know, baby-making sex is not a fun endeavorits a chore . (Okay, honey, Im ovulatingwe have to do it now . I dont care if the Bears are in overtime against the Packers.)

Afterward, I would lay on my back with my legs over my head for twenty minutes to ensure none of those spermies escaped their fate. No smoking a cigarette afterward/basking in nirvana scenario for me.

Trisomy 13 was a condition I never considered.

1. Tommys Story

Where can you scream? Its a serious question: where can you go in society and scream?

~R. D. Laing

T he jangle of the phone pumped my adrenaline into high gear. The professional on the other end possessed a life-changing verdict. My nerves had buzzed all morning as I anticipated this call, the minutes slipping along like creeping slugs. I hoped beyond hope for good news.

I snatched up the receiver and answered with hesitation.

Hello, is this Ms. Rhodes?

Yes, this is she, I answered.

This is Dr. Bowers. The doctor himself calling instead of the nurse was never a good sign in my book. Im calling to let you know the results of your amniocentesis are in, and they confirm full trisomy 13, plus an additional marker chromosome.

This was when my out-of-body experience occurred. I gazed down upon a woman clutching the phone who was in a state of frenzy, releasing a series of feral, hysterical screams that sounded like a lioness witnessing the murder of her cherished cub. Who is that unfortunate creature? I thought. It cant be me . In an instant, I catapulted back into my body, and the horror of my life took hold. My mother, who was visiting at the time, seized the receiver in a protective gesture and demanded the geneticist give her names and phone numbers of doctors who could take care of this.

I crumpled into a sobbing heap on the bed. This is the stuff pregnant womens nightmares are made of, where their subconscious fears surface in the dream world. In my case, the nightmare materialized.

I had beamed when the pregnancy test registered positive after just the second month of trying. I had two daughters and desired a third child to complete my family. Many of my friends were already pregnant or trying, so this was an exciting time of pregnancy bonding with them, sharing tales of morning sickness and discussing due dates. I was one month shy of thirty-six when I got pregnant; I was still in the safe zone in terms of age.

I met Mark while working for a telecommunications firm a short time after my divorce. We ran into each other at a bar one night, started dating in 1994, and married in 1996. At the beginning of our marriage, I had one eight-year-old daughter, Deborah, from my previous marriage. Mark and I agreed not to expand our family any further. However, a year later, we decided to have a child together; in 1998, our daughter, Alexandra, was born. Then in 2000, my maternal desires ignited once again, and I begged and pleaded for one final child.