Crystal
Kelley ran through the calendar once again in her head. It was August,
and if she got pregnant soon, she could avoid carrying during the hot
summer months, she'd done that before and didn't want to do it again.
There
was no time to lose. But there was one problem: She had no one to get
her pregnant. Kelley picked up the phone and called a familiar number.
What about the nice single man who'd inquired before -- would he be
interested? No, the woman told her. She hadn't heard from him in weeks.
Disappointed, Kelley asked if there was anyone else who would hire her.
She'd
had two miscarriages herself and wanted to help someone else with
fertility problems. Plus, she really needed the $22,000 fee. Surrogate
mom offered $10K to abort baby Hold on, the woman said, let me see. Yes,
she said, there was a couple who wanted to meet her. Was she ready to
take down their e-mail address? Absolutely, Kelley answered.
A
playground meeting Most surrogacies have happy endings, and this one
should have too -- with a couple welcoming a new baby into their home
and Kelley enjoying her fee, plus the satisfaction that she'd helped
another family. Instead, it ended with legal actions, a secretive flight
to another state, and a frenzied rush to find parents for a fragile
baby.
After
speaking with the surrogacy agency, Kelley, then 29, arranged to meet
the couple at a playground near her home in Vernon, Connecticut, a
suburb of Hartford. When she arrived, she liked what she saw. The couple
was caring and attentive with their three children, who were sweet and
well-mannered and played nicely with her own two daughters. The couple
desperately wanted a fourth child, but the mother couldn't have any more
babies. Yes, Kelley told them right then and there.
Yes,
I will have a child for you. CNN made several unsuccessful attempts to
contact the couple by phone and e-mail. The couple had conceived their
children through in-vitro fertilization and had two frozen embryos left
over. Doctors thawed them out and on October 8, 2011, put them in
Kelley's uterus. About 10 days later, a blood test showed she was
pregnant -- one of the embryos had taken.
Kelley
and the parents were thrilled, and over the next few weeks, the mother
was attentive and caring. When Kelley had morning sickness the mother
called every day to see how she was feeling. She gave Kelley and
Kelley's daughters Christmas presents. When Kelley couldn't make rent,
the mother made sure she got her monthly surrogate fee a few days early.
"She said, 'I want you to come to us with anything because you're going
to be part of our lives forever,' " Kelley remembers.
'There's
something wrong with the baby' "Congratulations! You made it half
through!" the mother emailed Kelley on February 6. It was one of the
last friendly e-mails between Kelley and the woman who'd hired her. A
few days later, Kelley, five months pregnant, had a routine ultrasound
to make sure the baby was developing properly. The ultrasound technician
struggled to see the baby's tiny heart and asked her to come back the
next week when the baby would be more developed.
At
that next ultrasound, the technician said it was still hard to see the
heart and asked Kelley to go to Hartford Hospital, where they could do a
higher-level ultrasound. Apparently, there was more to it than that. As
Kelley was driving home, her cell phone rang. It was the baby's mother.
"She kept saying, 'There's something wrong with the baby. There's
something wrong with the baby. What are we going to do?' " Kelley
remembers. "She was frantic. She was panicking."
Then
the midwife called. She told Kelley the ultrasound showed the baby had a
cleft lip and palate, a cyst in her brain and serious heart defects.
They couldn't see a stomach or a spleen. The next ultrasound was three
days away, and Kelley grew increasingly anxious with each passing day.
By the time she walked into Hartford Hospital on February 16, 2012, she
was 21 weeks pregnant and "absolutely terrified" of what the ultrasound
would show and what the parents' reaction would be. An emotional
standoff With the parents standing behind her, the ultrasound technician
at the hospital put the wand on Kelley's stomach.
The
test confirmed her worst fears: It showed the baby did have a cleft lip
and palate, a cyst in the brain, and a complex heart abnormality. The
doctors explained the baby would need several heart surgeries after she
was born. She would likely survive the pregnancy, but had only about a
25% chance of having a "normal life," Kelley remembers the doctors
saying.
In
a letter to Kelley's midwife, Dr. Elisa Gianferrari, a maternal fetal
medicine specialist at Hartford Hospital, and Leslie Ciarleglio, a
genetic counselor, described what happened next. "Given the ultrasound
findings, (the parents) feel that the interventions required to manage
(the baby's medical problems) are overwhelming for an infant, and that
it is a more humane option to consider pregnancy termination," they
wrote. Kelley disagreed. "Ms. Kelley feels that all efforts should be
made to 'give the baby a chance' and seems adamantly opposed to
termination," they wrote. The letter describes how the parents tried to
convince Kelley to change her mind.
Their
three children were born prematurely, and two of them had to spend
months in the hospital and still had medical problems. They wanted
something better for this child. "The (parents) feel strongly that they
pursued surrogacy in order to minimize the risk of pain and suffering
for their baby," Gianferrari and Ciarleglio wrote.
They
"explained their feelings in detail to Ms. Kelley in hopes of coming to
an agreement." The two sides were at a standoff. The doctor and the
genetic counselor offered an amniocentesis in the hope that by analyzing
the baby's genes, they could learn more about her condition. Kelley was
amenable, they noted, but the parents "feel that the information gained
from this testing would not influence their decision to consider
pregnancy termination." The atmosphere in the room became very tense,
Kelley remembers. The parents were brought into the geneticist's office
to give everyone some privacy. After a while, Kelley was reunited with
the parents.
"They
were both visibly upset. The mother was crying," she remembers. "They
said they didn't want to bring a baby into the world only for that child
to suffer. ... They said I should try to be God-like and have mercy on
the child and let her go." "I told them that they had chosen me to carry
and protect this child, and that was exactly what I was going to do,"
Kelley said. "I told them it wasn't their decision to play God." Then
she walked out of the room. "I couldn't look at them anymore," she said.
$10,000
to have an abortion The next day, according to medical records, the
mother called Hartford Hospital to ask about different types of
abortion. It was explained to her that they could induce birth (the baby
wouldn't survive) or they could do a dilation and evacuation, in which
case the pregnancy would be vacuumed out of the womb. The mother, after
asking about whether the fetus would feel any pain, said she thought the
second option was best. She asked if the procedure had been scheduled.
No,
she was told. Only Kelley could do that. The mother noted that the
surrogacy agency was getting in touch with Kelley, and a few days later,
Kelley received an e-mail from Rita Kron at Surrogacy International
telling her that if she chose to have the baby, the couple wouldn't
agree to be the baby's legal parents. "You will be the only person who
will be making decision (sic) about the child, should the child is
born," Kron wrote. CNN contacted Surrogacy International, and a woman
who said her name was Rita answered the phone. "You have to understand
something -- there is a privacy that exists and that's the end of the
story," she said and then hung up.
Kron
did not return CNN's e-mails. Kelley didn't want to be the baby's
mother -- she'd gotten pregnant to help another family, not to have a
child of her own. Kron gave her an option: the parents would pay her
$10,000 to have an abortion. The offer tested Kelley's convictions.
She'd always been against abortion for religious and moral reasons, but
she really needed the money. Just before getting pregnant, she'd lost
her job as a nanny, and the only income she had coming in was child
support from her daughters' father and her monthly surrogacy fee of
$2,222, which was about to end because of the dispute with the parents.
Her resolve began to falter.
Then
it nearly crumbled. Kron took Kelley to lunch. "She painted a picture
of a life of a person who had a child with special needs. She told me
how it would be painful, it would be taxing, it would be strenuous and
stressful. She told me it would financially drain me, that my children
would suffer because of it," Kelley remembers. Kelley had a counter
offer. "In a weak moment I asked her to tell them that for $15,000 I
would consider going forward with the termination," she said.
But
as soon as she got in the car to go home, she regretted it, Kelley
said. Kron let Kelley know the parents had refused to pay $15,000. By
that point, it didn't matter to Kelley -- she'd decided against abortion
no matter what. Kron sent her an e-mail asking if she'd scheduled the
appointment for the abortion. Kelley wrote back a one-word answer: no.
'TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE' On February 22, 2012, six days after the
fateful ultrasound, Kelley received a letter. The parents had hired a
lawyer.
"You
are obligated to terminate this pregnancy immediately," wrote Douglas
Fishman, an attorney in West Hartford, Connecticut. "You have squandered
precious time." On March 5, Kelley would be 24 weeks pregnant, and
after that, she couldn't legally abort the pregnancy, he said. "TIME IS
OF THE ESSENCE," he wrote. Fishman reminded Kelley that she'd signed a
contract, agreeing to "abortion in case of severe fetus abnormality."
The contract did not define what constituted such an abnormality.
Kelley
was in breach of contract, he wrote, and if she did not abort, the
parents would sue her to get back the fees they'd already paid her --
around $8,000 -- plus all of the medical expenses and legal fees.
Fishman did not return phone calls and e-mails from CNN. Kelley decided
it was time to get her own attorney. Michael DePrimo, an attorney in
Hamden, Connecticut, took the case for free. He explained that no matter
what the contract said, she couldn't be forced to have an abortion.
DePrimo
sent an e-mail to Fishman, the parents' lawyer, stating that Kelley was
not going to have an abortion. "Ms. Kelley was more than willing to
abort this fetus if the dollars were right," Fishman shot back. "The
not-so-subtle insinuation that Ms. Kelley attempted to extort money from
your clients is unfounded and reprehensible," DePrimo responded. "If
you wish to propose a solution to this unspeakable tragedy, I will
listen and apprize (sic)my client accordingly."
"However,
as I mentioned in my previous correspondence, abortion is off the table
and will not be considered under any circumstance," he said. A secret
flight In an affidavit filed in Connecticut Superior Court, DePrimo
described what happened next. DePrimo received a phone call from Fishman
telling him the parents had changed their minds. They now planned to
exercise their legal right to take custody of their child -- and then
immediately after birth surrender her to the state of Connecticut. She
would become a ward of the state. DePrimo explained to Kelley that this
was no empty threat. Under state law, they were the parents, not her,
and under Connecticut's Safe Haven Act for Newborns, parents can
voluntarily give up custody of a baby less than a month old without
being arrested for child abandonment.
Kelley
couldn't stand the thought of the baby in foster care. She'd heard the
nightmare stories. She felt like her back was up against the wall. Her
lawyer explained she could go to court and fight to get custody of the
baby, or fight to appoint a guardian for the baby, but Connecticut law
is very clear that the genetic parents are the legal parents, so she'd
likely lose in court. There was one more option, DePrimo told her. She
could go to a place where she, not the genetic parents, would be
considered the baby's legal mother.
That
place was 700 miles away. Over the years, states have developed
different laws about surrogacy. Some, like Connecticut, say the genetic
parents -- the ones who supplied the sperm and the egg -- are the baby's
legal parents. Other states don't recognize surrogacy contracts, and so
the baby legally belongs to the woman who's carrying the baby. On April
11, in her seventh month of pregnancy, Kelley and her daughters left
for one of those states -- Michigan.
While
she was gassing up her car to leave, her lawyer informed the parents'
lawyer about her plans. "Once I realized that I was going to be the only
person really fighting for her, that Mama bear instinct kicked in, and
there was no way I was giving up without a fight," Kelley said. Kelley
chose Michigan because of its laws, but also its medicine: she'd been
doing research on the baby's condition, and concluded C.S. Mott
Children's Hospital at the University of Michigan had one of the best
pediatric heart programs in the country. When she arrived, she found an
inexpensive summer sublet from a University of Michigan student and
applied for Michigan Medicaid.
She
made appointments with a high-risk pregnancy specialist and a pediatric
cardiologist and settled into life in Ann Arbor with her girls. There
was one thing left to do: She had to decide if she would keep the baby.
She was a single mother with no job and no permanent place to live, but
she'd grown emotionally attached to the life inside her, and some days
she wanted to keep her. Kelley struggled, and finally decided she wasn't
the right person to raise the child. But she knew who was: in her
online research, she'd met other mothers of children with special needs.
One
of them had been particularly helpful, putting her in touch with
support groups and sharing stories and photos of her own children --
both biological and adopted -- with medical problems. The woman and her
husband helped Kelley pack up to move to Michigan, and gave her
emotional support as well. "While it is true that (the baby) will face
some life-long challenges, it is also true that it is also more than
possible for her to have a wonderful life and to thrive," the mother
wrote to Kelley in an e-mail.
"I
am sorry that (her) biological parents have abandoned their daughter
and left you navigating this new, unexpected journey as the sole person
bearing responsibility for (her) well-being and care." Kelley asked the
couple to adopt the baby. They said yes. The baby now had a home, and it
would be undisputed. Or so Kelley thought. An unexpected challenge
Kelley hadn't heard from the biological parents in months when in May,
about one month before the baby's due date, the parents filed in
Connecticut Superior Court for parental rights.
They
wanted to be the legal parents. They wanted their names on the birth
certificate. The legal papers included a stunning admission: the wife
was not the baby's genetic mother -- they'd used an anonymous egg donor.
The case had now become very complicated. The lawyers were still
negotiating about who would be the legal parents when the baby was born
June 25. She was full-term and six pounds nine ounces, but she wasn't
breathing. Her body was limp and blue. Her heart rate was dangerously
low.
The
pediatricians pumped oxygen into her tiny lungs, and in about 20
seconds her heart rate went up to normal. She breathed on her own. Her
color normalized. "Infant appears to be moving all extremities and
crying appropriately," the medical record stated. Kelley's name went on
the birth certificate. Kelley said she left the space for the father's
name blank. Three weeks later, the two sides struck a deal: The father
agreed to give up his paternal rights as long as he and his wife could
keep in touch with the adoptive family about the baby's health. Since
then, the couple has visited the baby. The father has held her. "They do
care about her well-being. They do care about how she's doing," the
adoptive mother said. A long list of med problems -- and an infectious
smile The baby's medical problems turned out to be much more extensive
than the ultrasound at Hartford Hospital had revealed.
She
has a birth defect called holoprosencephaly, where the brain fails to
completely divide into distinct hemispheres. She has heterotaxy, which
means many of her internal organs, such as her liver and stomach, are in
the wrong places. She has at least two spleens, neither of which works
properly. Her head is very small, her right ear is misshapen, she has a
cleft lip and a cleft palate, and a long list of complex heart defects,
among other problems. Baby S. -- her adoptive parents are comfortable
using her first initial -- has a long road in front of her. She's
already had one open-heart surgery and surgery on her intestines, and in
the next year she'll need one or two more cardiac surgeries in addition
to procedures to repair her cleft lip and palate.
Later
in childhood she'll need surgeries on her jaw and ear and more heart
surgeries. Her adoptive parents, who asked to remain anonymous to
protect their family's privacy, know Baby S. might not be with them for
long. The cardiac procedures she needs are risky, and her heterotaxy and
holoprosencephaly, though mild, carry a risk of early death, according
to doctors. If Baby S. does survive, there's a 50% chance she won't be
able to walk, talk or use her hands normally. In some ways, Baby S.
looks different from other 8-month-olds babies. In addition to the
facial abnormalities, she's very small, weighing only 11 pounds and she
gets food through a tube directly into her stomach so she'll grow
faster. Her adoptive parents know some people look at her and see a baby
born to suffer -- a baby who's suffering could have been prevented with
an abortion. But that's not the way they see it.
They
see a little girl who's defied the odds, who constantly surprises her
doctors with what she's able to do -- make eye contact, giggle at her
siblings, grab toys, eye strangers warily. "S. wakes up every single
morning with an infectious smile. She greets her world with a constant
sense of enthusiasm," her mother said in an e-mail to CNN. "Ultimately,
we hold onto a faith that in providing S. with love, opportunity,
encouragement, she will be the one to show us what is possible for her
life and what she is capable of achieving." Savior or Satan? Just as
there are two ways to look at Baby S., there are two ways to look at
Crystal Kelley, the woman who carried her. In one view, she's a saint
who fought at great personal sacrifice for an unborn child whose own
parents did not want her to live.
In
another view, she recklessly absconded with someone else's child and
brought into the world a baby who faces serious medical challenges when
that wasn't her decision to make. Kelley knows some people hate her.
She's blogged about Baby S., and many readers, especially other
surrogates, have attacked her. "I can't tell you how many people told me
that I was bad, that I was wrong, that I should go have an abortion,
that I would be damned to hell," she said. In the end, she feels like
she did the right thing. "No one else was feeling this pregnancy the way
that I was.
No
one else could feel her kicking and moving around inside," she said. "I
knew from the beginning that this little girl had an amazing fighting
spirit, and whatever challenges were thrown at her, she would go at them
with every ounce of spirit that she could possibly have." "No matter
what anybody told me, I became her mother."