ACC & Moms-To-Be Story #13

I am incredibly thankful to all of the Moms and Dads who
want to tell their story about being pregnant and having
a baby with Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum.

Each story is as unique as each child who has ACC.

I believe that every story told will ultimately
reach out and touch the life of someone else in
very special ways.

Christina, the mom of an adorable baby girl,
expressed a desire to share her own story.

I am so grateful to be able to include Christina's ACC
Pregnancy Story here.

Thank you very much, Christina. It is truly a privilege to
be able to post your story here on the blog for others to
read. I want to thank you from my heart for your willingness
to express your story in words and for your desire to reach out to help others and offer hope.

"The Story of Our Little Superhero"


I should start by saying this is still very hard for me to write, but I would like other mothers to benefit from my story, as I have benefited from theirs.

My daughter was born on September 2nd 2011 at 7:07pm.

My daughter's pregnancy was completely planned--we wanted to become pregnant by a certain date, or we would wait a while for my husband to finish his schooling. I found out I was pregnant, and we couldn't believe it worked. I had a great pregnancy early on, with the exception of a TON of morning sickness. All I could think about was whether we were having a boy or a girl, how I would decorate the room etc. I took all the precautions--never took a hot bath, took prenatal vitamins, avoided certain foods and started sleeping on my side right away. I had many Moms tell me I was overreacting, but I didn't want anything to go wrong. I had no clue about the uphill battle we were about to face.

At our 20 week ultrasound, we found out we were having a baby girl. We left the ultrasound room, and were told to wait in the lobby. We didn't think much about it, and started texting and calling family and friends to tell them the news. Finally, a nurse came and asked us to follow her to a conference room. Right away, I knew something was wrong. We sat down, and she told us that our baby was "missing part of her brain", and that we would have to "start seeing specialists right away" and that the ultrasound techs "never got anything wrong". I started crying so hard, I was almost screaming. I never met this nurse, and she was telling me the worst news of my life. She even told me "look at me, you're going to be ok"... like she had any idea of what I was going through.

My husband and I sat there and cried and even told the nurse to leave the room. I had so many thoughts going through my mind--would I lose the baby? Why did this happen to me? What does my daughter's future look like? I never felt so horrible in my entire life. The nurse made me feel as if our only option was to terminate the pregnancy, which made me just feel sick and the lowest ever. The nurse took us to see our doctor, in order to answer any questions. While waiting to see my doctor, I heard other babies crying, and I kept thinking "Will I be able to hear my baby cry?" and it made me fall apart. My husband had to put his hands over my ears so I wouldn't hear the other babies. I work at a hospital that serves children with severe mental disabilities. Needless to say, my mind was going crazy. Our doctor was able to explain what was going on in a clearer and more positive manner. She told us the ultrasound machines may have missed her corpus callosum, and that we need to have a follow up appointment with better ultrasound equipment to check us out. She even told us that in her professional experience, she has worked with 1 baby who was diagnosed with ACC and that the baby turned out to be a happy, healthy baby. She explained to us what ACC was, and what we had to do from here on out.

I remember going home, and feeling completely numb. I didn't want to talk to anyone but my husband. We didn't know what to expect, think or feel. We ran through every scenario, and nothing really made me feel better. My doctor told me not to Google anything, and I tried really hard not to. But of course, I did and only found stories detailing the worst case scenarios. I kept clinging to the hope that the ultrasound machine made a mistake, and that we would be told everything would be normal. I didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next day, we met with a perinatologist to do another ultrasound. We found out that he also did not see her corpus callosum, but emphasized that he saw a "little line" that may be her corpus callosum, and that we wont be sure until we get an MRI. The doctor also told us that her ventricles were enlarged, and the MRI would give us exact measurements. I felt like I was hit by a truck, and that everything I planned for was gone. The doctor reassured us and told us that she doesn't look like she has other abnormalities, which is a good sign. He didn't want to do any genetic testing until I had the baby, as it might induce me and set off an early birth. We were to come back to this doctor in six weeks for another follow up.

Although I was extremely sad, anxious and tense, I kept having hope and staying positive by feeling my daughter's kicks. She kicked so much! She would even wake me up at night! Every time I felt her move, I kept telling myself that this was her way of saying "Mommy, I'm OK".

During the rest of the pregnancy, I kept clinging to the hope that our daughter did not have other abnormalities and that if I worked with her, she would be OK. We met with so many specialists--perinatologists, neurologists, neonatologists. I tried everything I could do to learn more. But, like most Moms, I couldn't really find anything.

My husband took a legal internship 2 hours away from me, making things a bit worse. At about 26 weeks, I started noticing my hands swelling. Just to be safe, I had a nurse at my work take my blood pressure and it was pretty high. I called my doctor, and she told me just to go home and relax. Of course, I couldn't. I went home, tried to relax, then went to a grocery store to get my blood pressure checked and it was way, way higher. I called the doctor and I was to go to the emergency room immediately. My sister in-law picked me up, and as much as I didn’t want to be admitted, we were admitted right away.

My husband was able to rush and meet me at the hospital, and luckily everything was fine. I was diagnosed with pregnancy induced hypertension, and from there until I was due, I was to have 3 appointments every week with the perinatologist to monitor my amniotic fluid levels, check the baby's heartbeat and make sure she didn't arrive early. I was also put on bed rest for 5 days.

On top of everything else, I now had high blood pressure. I felt like a failure, like I was not meant to be a Mom. Like this was nature's way of telling me that my body was not meant to have babies. To this day, I still feel like this. I still run every scenario through my mind to try and figure out why this happened--was it the car accident I was in at 10 weeks (doctor says no). Was it because I took too hot of a bath? Did I eat something wrong? This still runs through my head, despite all of my doctor's reassurances.

When I went in for the fetal MRI, I was extremely nervous (and hungry), and was anxious to see the results. When I took the fetal MRI, I was so nervous to see the results. The MRI itself was not as bad as I thought, as I was able to have my husband stay in the room with me, and I had my family there for support.

About 4 days later, we met with our doctor and the MRI showed that my daughter was for sure missing her corpus callosum, and that her ventricles were still enlarged. She was definitely diagnosed with agenesis of the corpus callosum.

I remember hearing this for the first time, and I just cried. I cried, and I was so scared, as I didn't know what any of this meant. I remember hearing a song on the radio about love and heartbreak, and crying hysterically because I wondered whether or not my daughter would ever fall in love, or experience life like a normal girl. The most frustrating part (and continues to this day), is that nobody could tell me exactly what it meant for my daughter. I would have to wait and learn.

Aside from all of the appointments, and constant worry, everything else was going OK. My daughter was presenting feet-down, so we were planning on having a scheduled c-section on September 10th. However, on August 26th I felt somewhat of a tear in my lower abdomen. I thought my water broke, but I was wrong, and later found out it was my daughter turning! We went in for an ultrasound and found out she was head-down. We were now going to have a vaginal birth. This little girl had a mind of her own! My blood pressure continued to rise, so my doctor decided to schedule an induction. After scheduling my induction, my doctor gave me the kindest words a pregnant mother can hear--"You've done your job."

My daughter was born on September 2nd 2011 at 7:07pm, 5 lbs 0oz, 18.8 inches. I was in labor a total of 36 hours. After pushing for 2.5 hours, my daughter arrived with the cord wrapped around her neck and was ghostly white due to lack of oxygen. She was already scheduled for a NICU stay due to her diagnosis, so the nurses and neonatologist were already on hand ready to take her to the NICU. The original plan was that I would be able to hold her for a while, then proceed to the NICU. However, because of the cord, she was quickly shipped away. The first words I heard after she is born is "we have to resuscitate"... I never felt so alert in my life. I was not exhausted, or tired, all I wanted to do was know what was going on. I saw her for a few seconds before she left. My husband quickly followed the NICU doctors and nurses, while my Grama waited with me to get stitched up and recover. The entire time I just remember wanting everything to be over so I could see her. However, the nurses wouldn't let me go to the NICU until I spent 2 hours in recovery.

When I finally saw her, I was devastated. She was attached to a breathing machine, with the mask covering her entire face, and cords attached all over her body. To this day, I can't look at the pictures without crying. However, at the time, I found my inner strength and held it together for my baby. I read to her that night, and slept in my own recovery room while my husband slept in her NICU room (we had our own individual NICU room).

We were in the NICU for a total of 5 days. My husband slept there 2 nights and I slept there 2 nights. We had a system worked out with my mother in-law so that my daughter was never alone in the NICU. I am eternally grateful to my mother in-law for this, as it was really important to us that she was never alone. Although the hospital staff was very nice, I couldn't bear the thought of her having a volunteer hold her, or have a nurse feed her.

Going home was exciting! We were sent home on a BiliBlanket, which made things difficult, but we were happy to be home.

My daughter is currently in the Birth-to-Three program, receiving services for Physical Therapy. At 6 weeks, her motor skills and fine motor skills were only in the 1 percentile. We don't know if this is due to her size (she was born small, and therefore lacked the muscle development), or the ACC.

My daughter is now 7.5 months, and she is doing great! She laughs, smiles and lets you know when she wants her way! I couldn't ask for a more perfect baby. She still receives weekly physical therapy, but so far, has been on par developmentally. She will see a neurologist every 6 months to check her development and to see if any hydrocephalus appears (she had enlarged ventricles in the womb, but have since continued to go down). Some things I have noticed is that she always picks up new skills with her left side first--she then develops the skill on her right side a few weeks later. The neurologist did not have an explanation for this, but said it is no cause for alarm.

Some days, I completely forget that she has ACC. Other days, I can't seem to get it out of my mind. She seems like a "normal" baby now, but I worry that down the line, she will start showing symptoms (as a lot of children with ACC do). I worry that she won't have any friends, or won't be able to do some of the things we did as children. But I’ve learned to not dread on the "what ifs", as I won't be able to enjoy the beautiful baby in front of me.

We also constantly debate whether or not we should tell our daughter, and others, about her diagnosis. What if she turns out "ok", and uses her diagnosis as a crutch? What if she finds out later down the line, and learns to resent us for it? I also hesitate telling others, as I don't want them to treat her differently, or tell me stories of someone they knew with ACC. There are children at my work who are diagnosed with ACC, and for this reason, I won’t tell my coworkers, as I worry they will compare my daughter to these children.

Despite the difficulties, I am thankful that I have such a beautiful, intelligent, amazing little girl. I love her smiles, her cute little toes, her LONG, curly, crazy, dark hair, her beautiful blue eyes. She's going to change the world someday, and I'm going to be there the entire time, cheering her on!