Two sons

L is a wonderful new person all his own. And yet, because of when he came to us, his story is inextricably connected to that of his brother A. We do not believe in a God who would use children as reward or punishment, a lesson, or a test. For us there is no rhyme or reason to why children die, no higher purpose. For us the only part that is imbued with meaning is what we choose to do with our broken hearts, how we choose to live after, what we choose to articulate and remember. 

In the past nineteen months we learned that grief is the price we pay for love, love’s mirror image. We learned that for us it is not a one-time fee—we will always love and miss our son and Monkey's and L's brother A.G. We learned, too, that grief brings with it fear, for the knowledge of how much there is to lose is both fresh and visceral.

And yet we learned that not taking a chance would be worse. For ourselves and for Monkey, we learned that we were willing to risk our hearts again, in hopes of one day having them expand along with our family. This is the day we couldn’t even imagine only a few short weeks ago. We lived day to day, hour to hour. Today, the enormity of how lucky we got this time and of how far we have come is before us, and we are grateful, as we are grateful to all of you for sharing the day and its meaning with us.

Untimely death is always a tragedy. Yet parents of dead babies have a special loss uniquely ours. We grieve our children. But we also grieve how little we got to know about our children. We know that A had long fingers, but we do not know whether he would’ve used them to play piano, basketball, or neither. We don’t know what color his eyes would’ve been, or what his favorite kasha would have turned out to be. Tiny things that are the stuff of family stories and big things that define one’s character and life paths—we know none of these about our middle son, and we grieve that too.

We know a lot about our daughter, and are looking forward to learning more every day. And we are starting to learn things about our younger son. He loved his first bath. He likes to suck on his hands, and not so much on a pacifier. He is not big on patience, at least for now, but he relaxes and quiets with his mother’s voice and touch.

L is L, his own person. He will not replace his brother, nor should he be expected to. He is not a cosmic payback for the loss of his brother, nor is it possible to make up for that. He is just a boy who makes us feel incredibly lucky to be his parents. We are grateful to all of you for your love and support, and for being here today, and as we are looking forward to continuing to get to know L, we hope and trust that you will regard and treat him as we do—as a unique individual.

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from a distance

The raspberries are almost over, but tomatoes are still green and it seems quite possible that the beginning of January will never get here. Our surrogate, Kyrie, is 18 weeks pregnant. I didn't really think we'd get to this point and it's hard to imagine that we'll ever get beyond it. 

There's a certain air of unreality about the whole thing. At least physically, it's nothing like last time at all. There's no morning sickness, no paneled and pouched maternity clothes, no flickering quivers against my stomach, no dull leaden slug lodged under my ribs. I don't turn sideways in front of mirrors, pulling up my shirt to let my hands play up and down the pale convexity of a belly become a gibbous moon. Right now, I'm sitting on the back porch, and the only thing I'm considering is whether I should pour myself a second glass of cheap white wine. 

It doesn't seem to count. It doesn't seem like it's really happening. Unlike last time at this point, I haven't told anyone -- not my coworkers, not my family, not my friends. I've been to the appointments, but I don't look at the ultrasound screen and I never talk to the doctor. It's like it's happening to someone else. It is happening to someone else. 

I don't really have any negative feelings about the concept of surrogacy --maybe because, long ago, I had a successful pregnancy or maybe because I know that the odds are overwhelming that any future pregnancy of mine would end the same way the last one did. And probably that's why I sometimes forget that surrogacy is, for a whole variety of reasons, fairly unusual and quite controversial.

But I've been wondering what you all think. Comment honestly (and anonymously, if you'd prefer). You're not going to upset me or hurt my feelings and I realize that there are reasonable arguments to be made on both sides. What's your view on surrogacy? What limitations (if any) do you think should be placed on it? Should it be available to someone like me who, theoretically, could carry a baby to term, but runs a high risk of another death or a catastrophically premature baby? Would you consider working with a surrogate? Could you imagine being a surrogate? Why or why not?


PubMed Says: GBS infection in pregnancy

PubMed is a database of original journal articles in basic biological sciences and medicine maintained by the National Institutes of Health (NIH). I am, by virtue of my education as well as my temperament, a PubMed addict. That is to say, in researching my medical care, I like to go straight to the horse's mouth. So today, in the spirit of sharing what I learn in my digging and in hopes of said digging benefiting others, I am inaugurating a new periodic series at Glow in the Woods-- PubMed Says. For the first installment of the series, I am discussing an issue of interest in managing a subsequent pregnancy-- intrauterine infections with group B streptococcus (GBS).

Our immune systems are really a wonder of efficiency and adaptability. In fact, they are essentially mini-evolution machines, running in real time.  You see, with the number of pathogens we have the potential to encounter in our environment, encoding even a single fighter molecule for each of these would require more genes than we have in our entire genomes. Not to mention that pathogens evolve just like everything else (think new strains of flu every year), and so having static defenses is only marginally better than having no defenses at all. Ok, let me qualify that-- we have static immune systems too (skin being the biggest organ and biggest participant in that system), and we would not be able to hold off the assault of all the pathogens we encounter in our daily lives without that innate immune system. But neither could we do without the adaptive one-- the one we hear the most about, the one that has those famed antibodies as major players.

Antibodies are molecules made by the cells of our adaptive immune system that can recognize specific portions of specific pathogens. They are generated randomly, but according to rules-- one component of each specified type is picked randomly, and components are assembled in specified order. Sometimes the joining of the components is a bit off, which provides for even more variability.

Everything in biology happens via interaction of surfaces, tiny, microscopic shape fitting. Molecules are themselves signals, and their interaction is the passing of that signal. That, combined with the vast number of antibodies we generate, means two important things: 1) we can (and do) generate antibodies to pathogens we have never encountered before, to pathogens no-one has encountered before; and 2) we can and do generate antibodies that recognize our own molecules, molecules that are working hard to keep us chugging along. That last possibility is a problem, and the basis of autoimmune disorders.

So the reason autoimmune disorders are actually rare is that we also have a great way of "teaching" our immune system about self vs. non-self. We need it to know not to generate antibodies to self, only to the things that we would encounter from the outside, the non-self, the potential pathogens.

And this is finally where this little discussion becomes relevant to pregnancy-- the self vs. non-self education thing? It happens perinatally. Very loosely speaking, while the baby is cooking, the immune system is set to assume that everything it encounters is self, and so it kills off all the cells that would produce antibodies that can interact with these self molecules. At birth, the switch gets flipped, and the system gets reset to assume that everything new it encounters from then on is non-self, pathogen, signal for search and destroy. Pretty cool, right?

Well, there is one teensy-weensy problem. The problem, of course, is that baby in utero effectively has no functioning immune system. Ooops. But the good news is, the baby is in the sac that is in the uterus, and no pathogens are supposed to be able to get into the intact sac. And for most women, that is exactly how it goes. The bad news is that for some women some infections can get in, with fatal consequences.

This question is of special interest to me because my son A was infected with one of these infections, Group B Strep (GBS), and the pathologist ruled that to be a contributing factor in his death. Beyond the "what happened?" question, history of infections in the intact sac also have serious implications for any subsequent pregnancy, and that is why I chose this topic today.

A paper* (A 30-Year-Old Pregnant Woman with Intrauterine Fetal Death) was published last summer in the New England Journal of Medicine (NEJM), that both describes a particular case of a fatal GBS infection, and does a nice job reviewing in brief the general state of knowledge about causes of stillbirth in general, and infections in particular.

The case described in the paper is sad and tragic, and all too familiar to many of us here-- normal pregnancy with some minor causes for concern throughout, resulting in fetal death and stillbirth in the 40th week of gestation.  Although the text uses medical jargon, the upshot is that upon delivery the baby looked fine, with only the skin changes as a sign of having been dead for about a day being notable. In other words, without an autopsy there would have been no explanation for this tragedy, and no information to guide the family in making decisions about a subsequent pregnancy.

Multiple causes of stillbirth were considered, including fetal anomalies (ruled out by autopsy), maternal disease (discussed and found unlikely due to medical history), unexplained (always popular, no?), and fetal infection. According to the literature, infections account for approximately 10-25% of stillbirths, with significantly higher rates in economically depressed areas and in developing countries.

In light of what I said above, it should be pretty clear that any infection that can breach the sac is likely to lead to unfortunate consequences. Infections can be caused by bacteria, viruses, fungus, or protozoa. In addition to direct fetal infection, infections may also cause stillbirth via placental damage or severe maternal illness. There are very few pharmaceutical agents available to treat viral infections even in adults, and as far as I know there is not much that can be done for a fetus infected with a virus.  Yeast (a fungus) and various protozoa have been reported as causes of stillbirth, but extremely rare causes. What I want to do here is focus on bacterial infections, and GBS infections in particular, and then discuss management of a subsequent pregnancy if a diagnosis of infection as a primary or secondary cause of stillbirth was made or suspected.

GBS is known to be common in genital tract, and a large percentage of healthy adult women are colonized, i.e. have GBS in their vagina or lower intestine (This meta-study from Europe shows rates of colonization of 6.5-36% with great geographic variability) .  Recognition of GBS as a human pathogen did not occur until 1960s. In the 1970 it was recognized as a leading cause of neonatal infection and an important cause of maternal uterine infection. Since then, screening protocols have been put in place to identify women colonized with GBS, and antibiotic treatment during labor is recommended for women found to be colonized. These treatments are aimed at reducing the rate of neonatal infection, and establishing these guidelines has led to a marked decrease in early neonatal GBS infections.

In addition, and more relevant to our discussion here, 4-10% of stillbirths in United States and Europe are thought to be caused by GBS infections. Thus it is known that GBS can cross intact membranes and cause infection of amniotic fluid and/or fetus. In addition, GBS is associated with some cases of PPROM, and in at least one study, for at least one population, has been shown to be the leading cause of PPROM.

GBS, like other bacterial infections known to cross the intact membranes and cause stillbirth and other adverse perinatal outcomes, is an ascending infection, meaning that it rises up from mother's vagina, anus, or rectum, to the uterus. In most cases, infection occurs after the rupture of membranes, and that is why the guidelines for treatment of colonized mothers call for treatment with antibiotics while in labor.

As I mentioned above, this is an adequate protocol for most mothers. However, for those of us who have had infection, particularly bacterial infection, ruled to be a cause of stillbirth or PPROM, it is wise to consider additional measures in a subsequent pregnancy. I would, in abundance of caution, also suggest that families where the cause of stillbirth was unexplained, particularly those who did not have an autopsy performed, or whose autopsy did not include a report on possible infections, consider these additions to their subsequent pregnancy care protocol.

The NEJM paper, after providing fairly conclusive evidence for GBS being the cause of the stillbirth in the particular patient, includes the following possible interventions (beyond the general guidelines referenced above) aimed at attempting to prevent a recurrence of stillbirth caused by GBS:

  • Screen for GBS rectovaginally early in pregnancy and suppress or eradicate detected colonization with antibiotics. (It is worth noting that colonization with GBS can be intermittent, that treatment is not always successful at completely eradicating colonization, and that re-colonization occurs in up to 40% of subjects within 4 weeks.)
  • Screen for GBS in patient's sexual partners and suppress or eradicate detected colonization with antibiotics. (Same caveats as above.)
  • Advise abstinence or condom use.  (Evidence that GBS is sexually transmitted is weak. In the words of the article authors, "Both interventions are relatively harmless, but compliance may be poor.")
  • Vaccinate the mother. (No vaccine is currently available.  If it does become available in the future, it will not protect fetuses before 32 weeks of gestation because IgG antibodies that would be the actual mechanism of the protection are transferred across the placenta only poorly before that gestational age.)

My own protocol for my ongoing pregnancy includes early and frequent urine screenings for GBS and other bacteria. If and when any are found, I am treated with antibiotics in hopes of preventing an intrauterine infection.  This intervention was proposed by my OB, with the caveat that there have not yet been studies to show the effectiveness of this prevention method. I was more than happy to agree to this protocol, as this is pretty much the only thing we can actually do to try to prevent a recurrence.

Obviously this protocol is most useful for tracking GBS and other bacterial pathogens. I have not done enough research to comment on what measures might be able to prevent a recurrence of other types of infection. However, in the abundance of caution category, I would suggest that it might be wise to treat the ability of any type of previous ascending infection to cross the membranes as a red flag for the possibility of other ascending infections being able to do the same in subsequent pregnancies, i.e. that it might be useful to apply the protocol for attempted prevention of bacterial infection in cases where other infections were implicated in a previous pregnancy. This is a conjecture on my part. I do not know of any studies that quantify risks of different infections following a previous case of any given infection. However, each one of us, in each of our subsequent pregnancies, is concerned with the sample size of exactly one, and therefore, we, in consultation with our health care providers, can and should decide which protocols would give us peace of mind in addition to which are incontrovertibly scientifically justified.

 

I hope you found this useful, or, at least, interesting. If you have ideas for future installments of this series, please let me know.

 

*I can not place a pdf of the paper in public domain here. But I do have it (as well as the pdfs of the other papers mentioned in this entry) , and if you are interested, please email me through our contacts page, and I will be happy to send it to you.