People assume the funniest things. Our two kids are a little over 8 years apart in age.
Someone once referred to Caleb as our “oops” baby, assuming he was an unplanned surprise after our family had been firmly established. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Jennifer and I talked about having kids well before we got married in 1990. That was part of the pre-marital counseling sessions we were required to undergo in order for Pastor Deck to perform the ceremony. Pastor Deck was the pastor of Augustana Lutheran Church in Hobart – pronounced Hoe’ bert – Indiana, located across the street from Jennifer’s childhood home, and the father of one of Jennifer’s closest childhood friends. We knew we wanted kids, knew we wanted “a few”, but the exact number was not to be decided at this point. We joked it was between 2 and 20. Deciding on when we wanted to start our family was not a pre-marital topic. That was a once-married discussion.
I’ve always been a planner. I like to know the steps, the route, the guidelines, the rules, before I start something. Why would starting a family be any different? Ultimately, there were five criteria I figured we should meet before we had children (how on Earth I was able to keep Jennifer from leaving me in these early years is beyond my comprehension). Rule #1: We had to live in a house. I wanted our children to have a yard to play in and space of our own. Apartments weren’t ideal in my opinion. Rule #2: Jennifer should have a full-time job. I was active duty military, but still of lower rank and kids are expensive! So Jennifer needed to be employed full-time as well in order to better afford these hungry and demanding people we were considering bringing into our family. Rule #3: Jennifer’s full-time job needed to offer health insurance. Today’s military healthcare system, TRICARE, has been a decent insurance program as far as my experience goes. However, in the early 90’s the military’s healthcare system was called CHAMPUS and I had heard many negative reviews regarding other’s healthcare experiences. To avoid this, having a health insurance option through Jennifer’s employer might lead to a more positive pregnancy experience. Rule #4: I wanted to be an E-5. This was my part of the “affordability” factor. I was lovingly informed by family that you can never afford kids, but I knew you could take steps to be better prepared. And it was my belief that being an E-5 met the lowest acceptable level of preparedness. Rule #5: The last item concerned debt. We had two car payments and a few thousand dollars in credit card debt. Now we were discussing mortgaging a home and having children. As a minimum, we needed to eliminate the credit card debt.
By late 1993 we had met most of these criteria items. We purchased our first house earlier that year, Jennifer was working full-time for a local bank that included health insurance benefits, and we paid off our credit cards. The last hurdle was my promotion to E-5. Unless some unforeseen snag were to occur, I was eligible to pin on my promotion in October 1994. Jennifer didn’t want to wait that long and suggested a compromise. What if we planned to have the baby around the time I was to be promoted rather than wait until after the promotion to become pregnant? That seemed fair. And so our daughter, Lauren Elizabeth Stratton, was born November 21, 1994. This making babies stuff was easy!
The next decision was the age gap we wanted our kids to have. Again, some compromises were involved. Jennifer liked the idea of them being about 2 years apart, thinking they would be close enough in age to play well together and be friends. I liked the idea of them being about 4 years apart so college expenses would be spread out better (again, how I was still married to this woman mystifies me). You guessed it. We agreed on 3 years. Despite the relative ease we had in getting pregnant the first time, we knew nothing was a guarantee. We thought mid-1996 was a good time to start trying for our second child. We were thrilled when the home pregnancy test soon yielded a positive result. But our excitement turned into devastation at our 9-week appointment when the medical staff was unable to detect a heartbeat. To add insult to injury, we were now dealing with CHAMPUS insurance. After just a few months following Lauren’s arrival, we had decided that Jennifer would quit work to be a stay-at-home mom. The combination of daycare expenses, additional dining out, and Jennifer’s car payment nearly equaled her monthly pay. We sold her Pontiac Grand Am, reduced our household expenses further, and became a one-income family. CHAMPUS now solely covered our family medical expenses. Their reputation was confirmed when they denied Jennifer’s medical treatment because they didn’t differentiate between a procedure following a miscarriage and an abortion. After several phone calls and conversations I was able to talk with someone of authority that listened to the situation and took action to fix the error. I was disheartened that this coding discrepancy could even be possible with such a sensitive situation.
It was advised that we wait 6 months or so before attempting another pregnancy. We complied with the doctor’s advise and in early 1997 we were greeted again with a positive home pregnancy test. More cautious this time, we waited until after hearing the baby’s heartbeat at our 9-week appointment before we allowed ourselves to become too hopeful and excited. Because of the miscarriage several months earlier, the physician wanted to monitor the baby closely and asked us to come back again at the 12-week point. We knew the concern on the technician’s face when she struggled to detect the baby’s heartbeat this time. We knew the procedures that were to occur and I knew how to prepare for the potential CHAMPUS response. We were numb and going through familiar motions. This time, some tests were performed to see if a cause for the miscarriage could be determined. The tests were inconclusive of the cause, but did identify the baby was a girl. It’s funny how that detail affects your emotions. Now we hadn’t lost a fetus, or even a baby. We lost our daughter.
In 1999 we moved to southern Illinois within the St Louis metro area. I was stationed at Scott Air Force Base when my Air National Guard military unit was relocated from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to that installation as part of a 1995 Base Realignment and Closure (BRAC) decision. Life was busy with work and travel. Establishing a new home and new routines in a new area away from family and friends was stressful but exciting. Lauren was 4 years old. We were grateful she would be starting school after we got established in our new community and would have the potential to go through her entire primary education in the same school system. We hoped to plant some roots and resume our focus on having more children.
But month after month, we were met with disappointment with each missed opportunity. Fortunately, TRICARE approved a referral to meet with a fertility specialist at St. Luke’s Hospital in Chesterfield, Missouri in late 2000. Tests were performed, diagnoses received, and prescriptions filled. By summer 2001, Jennifer was pregnant. Our doctor wanted to monitor the baby’s progress closely and scheduled Jennifer for an ultrasound very early in the pregnancy. As we viewed the image on the screen and the listened to the doctor describing this tiny creation, he paused. Studying the image, he switched views back and forth. He then told us that something was wrong. I thought he was crazy. It was a dot. How could he tell something was wrong with our dot? It turns out our dot should have been nice and round. But it wasn’t perfectly round. Our dot was slightly out of round at approximately the 10 o’clock position. He was concerned and this situation was outside his specialty. We were referred to the Washington University Medical Center at Barnes Jewish Hospital in St. Louis.
Following a couple of evaluation exams and tests, a small army of medical professionals were assigned to care for Jennifer and our child. Appointments and ultrasounds were frequent. As the baby developed and ultrasounds were performed, complications began to mount. The child’s internal organs were not developing normally and amniotic fluid was not circulating properly, resulting in Jennifer’s body being subjected to additional stress and fluid accumulation. To give her relief, it was necessary for the staff to extract the excess fluid, similar to what would occur during an amniocentesis test but withdrawing a much greater volume of fluid. Lab work was performed on the fluids to test for various things, like Turner’s Syndrome. Nothing was conclusive, but we learned through this process that the baby was a boy. Our son was struggling to be born.
The medical team was very good. But anytime you deal with a large number of people, you will experience very different styles and personalities. One of our physicians, from the genetics area, allowed herself to be sensitive and vulnerable with us. Several times, following the most recent ultrasound appointment and discovery of yet another complication, she would join in the consulting room, explain what she was seeing while unsuccessfully trying to fight back her own tears, and attempt to provide some kind of positive or reassuring statement like “We are going to continue doing everything we can for your baby”. But another physician, from the OB/GYN staff I believe, was likely more of a realist. He would review the information and knew the likelihood of the child surviving was statistically impossible. Once, he stated that if we were dealing with one, maybe two, of these issues then survivability and major medical treatments would be more likely. But these complications were numerous. It was even suggested we consider terminating the pregnancy.
Around this time September 11, 2001 occurred.
Life in America didn’t exactly change overnight, if you recall. Our attitudes may have, but day-to-day life wasn’t greatly affected at first. Except if you happened to be in the military. Installation security was heightened immediately and permanently. New procedures and routines had to be established. This takes time and often causes confusion in the interim. Stress was building at home and at work. I did my best to leave personal issues at home and professional issues at work, but that isn’t always possible nor is it realistic. My colleagues were understanding and very supportive of our situation. My wife likewise understood I had responsibilities that required my time. To me, she was the epitome of a “military wife” and I felt she achieved superhero status. She was strong as we faced each appointment, each revelation, each reason to give up hope. We both had our ups and downs, but we were there for each other and we knew we could face any circumstances together.
We never had to discuss the option to terminate the pregnancy. When the suggestion was given to us along with some assurances that we wouldn’t need to feel guilt or shame because it would be a humane act, we knew what each other was thinking. No. This wasn’t based on any religious or pro-choice/pro-life ideology. This was a personal understanding that we were discussing the fate of our child, our son. We were going to give him every opportunity to live. We knew that this decision might require extensive medical attention throughout his life and consume most of our lives. I’m sure those that have been in similar circumstances would tell us we couldn’t possibly be prepared for the commitment such a future would involve. They would be correct, some things are just unknowable until you’ve walked in those shoes. But had our child been born healthy and then suffered some tragedy that left him in a state that would require lifelong medical assistance, would we not be making the same commitment? We didn’t see a difference in the two scenarios. I appreciate those that have described us as strong for our decisions and attitudes throughout. However, we didn’t approach anything from a position of strength, only from an overwhelming sense of love. One might argue that’s the true source of strength I suppose.
Jennifer’s health was also of great importance. The baby’s condition placed additional stress on her body in ways a normal pregnancy would not. While at the hospital for another appointment on Monday, December 10 where excess fluids were removed to provide some relief to Jennifer, she began experiencing contractions. The contractions were successfully stopped but she was kept overnight for observation. As she was being released, we were advised to return immediately if contractions started again. I left for work on Wednesday, but immediately returned home when Jennifer called to tell me the contractions had begun again. We returned to the hospital and the doctors decided the best plan of action was to deliver the baby the next morning, Thursday, December 13, 2001, several weeks before his actual due date. Jennifer was being kept overnight again. I had to return home to take care of Lauren. Jennifer’s father was on his way from Hobart to help.
How does one motivate himself to get up and dressed on the day your child will likely die? Like every other day, you just make yourself do it. And so I did. With Jennifer’s dad to watch Lauren once we got to there, we drove to Barnes Jewish Hospital Thursday morning where our medical army was ready for the task. Jennifer was being prepped for surgery. I was provided scrubs and escorted into the operating room. As soon as he was delivered, our son was whisked to an area where another team was ready to immediately begin working on his respiration and circulation. There were so many people around him, I couldn’t see what was happening. But within approximately 10 minutes, our son, Alec Jacob Stratton, had died. The staff wrapped him in a swaddling blanket and delivered him to me. Jennifer was still being tended to by the operating doctors, but I was able to hold him near her where we both could simply be with him. I then had to go out to the waiting room to tell Lauren, Jennifer’s father, and our Pastor that Alec had passed. We had a small funeral surrounded by immediate family and our closest friends.
We were scheduled for a follow-up appointment with Dr. “Realist” from the OB/GYN department. It was determined that Alec had Carpenters Syndrome, an extremely rare genetic disorder. So rare that at the time, there were less than 200 documented cases of Carpenters Syndrome. Dr. “Realist” gave us a middle school science lesson on Punnett squares and explained that Jennifer and I were carriers of this condition, although no tests were possible to confirm this, and any subsequent pregnancy had a 25% chance of also being afflicted with Carpenters Syndrome. If we were intent on having more children, he advised we discuss adoption or even seeking a sperm donor in order to increase the chance of having a healthy child. He shared with us that his niece had severe medical conditions that left her in a state unable to function or even recognize her mother (his sister) and knew firsthand of the hardships. This experience shaped his earlier advice and his recommendations to us regarding the future. I told him that I had read that non-carrier parents could possibly have a child with Carpenters Syndrome due to something called spontaneous mutation of the DNA. He agreed that was possible, but assured us the odds of that occurring were extremely minute. I wondered, more minute than both my wife and I being carriers of a disorder so rare that there are less than 200 documented cases? Thank you for your professional advise, Doc. We’ll take it under advisement as we decide the future of our family.
By the next summer, we were in the fertility specialist’s office once again. We repeated the treatment from the year prior and once again Jennifer was pregnant. The doctor knew what to look for and ultrasound scans were scheduled. We held our breath as he reviewed the images. He explained that he was seeing an empty sack, indicating a failed pregnancy, but also a second sack that contained a well rounded dot. Early indications looked good. After a few weeks, progress was so normal that Jennifer’s was no longer viewed as a high-risk pregnancy. On April 3, 2003, Caleb Arthur Stratton was born. Healthy and, as far as we were concerned, perfect.
We are so grateful for our kids. Lauren’s birth provided us the opportunity to become parents early in our marriage and taught us how to become a family. The two children we lost through miscarriage reminded us that we aren’t in control of everything. We often need others to help us reach our goals. Alec taught us a great deal about love. Parenting is hard. Children will bring you joy and pain, love and heartbreak at various times throughout their lives. Alec packed all of those experiences into a very short timeframe. We think of him often and he forever remains part of our family. Caleb’s birth taught us patience and gratitude. The struggle we endured to get him here helps us keep the demands of life in perspective and we appreciate our “bookend babies” even more than we thought possible. Our marriage survived the hardships. I like to think it has made us more resilient and our love for each other stronger.
Someone once naively told me, “You don’t really plan for kids, they just happen.” Well, not in our family. And maybe not in yours, either.
