Certificates wanted for stillborn babies
Abel Maldonado is backing a proposal to issue special documents to parents
By Bob Cuddy
For Sunita and Jason Olazabal, the pregnancy had been “beautiful,” as Jason puts it. Thirty-eight weeks with no problems. But two weeks before the due date last year, the couple went in for a routine checkup. The doctor could not find a fetal heartbeat. The parents-tobe saw a second doctor: still no heartbeat. Doctors induced labor, and 24 hours later Soraya Carolina Olazabal was born— not breathing.
Thus, the Olazabals joined the 3,000 other California families each year who give birth to a stillborn child. There are 39,000 stillbirths annually nationwide — one in every 100 births. Until now, such parents have been issued a death certificate. But a nationwide movement to recognize their pain as well as acknowledge the child has reached the California Legislature, after prevailing in 18 states. However, it has become caught up in the politics of abortion.
The proposal is Senate Bill 850, known as the Missing Angels Act. It would allow parents whose children were stillborn to receive a “certificate of birth resulting in stillbirth.” The bill passed the Senate Health Committee on Wednesday after hours of negotiation. It would allow families to receive a “certificate of still birth.” The bill is expected to move forward to the Senate Judiciary Committee later this month.
Sen. Abel Maldonado, R-Santa Maria, a chief sponsor, says he decided to carry the bill after hearing stories of women who have been affected. And as the father of four children, he says he understands how painful it would be to lose a pregnancy.
The bill’s proponents say it helps comfort the parents who are devastated by the loss of their child. Jason Olazabal, whose child was stillborn Nov. 3, says it is a shattering experience. Having nothing left but a death certificate is a bleak outcome, he says.
Recovering from the stillbirth, he says five months after the experience, is still “moment to moment.When we left the hospital, it was very tough. Early on, it was very somber; now the days are better.”
“Her life, as short as it was, was real,” he says of his child.
Though waning, grief can be triggered unexpectedly, he says. “Walking down the street and seeing a baby carriage can trigger it,” he says. Going to a Dodgers game this spring brought up memories from a year ago, when he and his wife had planned to attend a game this year with their new baby, clad in pink.
The certificate won’t bring back their child, but it will acknowledge the child’s existence, he says. “It’s a little something else.” Therein, opponents say, lies the potential problem. “We want to be compassionate, and we totally empathize with women who have experienced this,” says Ana Sandoval, with the Planned Parenthood Affiliates of California. “But any time you’re dealing with vital statistics, there can be unintended consequences.”
Opponents fear that the bill has the potential to change the legal definition of when a fetus becomes a person, which could lead to limits on a woman’s reproductive rights. Sandoval’s organization is working with Maldonado and other legislators to bridge this gap.
To the Olazabals, the political discussion is academic. To them, this is about the pain of having a stillborn child. They have formed a support group in Santa Monica where they live, and have found other parents who have gone through the same heartbreak.
After Wednesday’s committee vote, Maldonado said in a written statement he was “frustrated that we had to concede to opposing groups so much.”
Staff writer AnnMarie Cornejo contributed to this report.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Article in the Sacramento Bee
Anita Creamer: Honoring a life and loss
Sacramento Bee Columnist (Sacramento, California)
Published 12:00 am PDT Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Story appeared in SCENE section, Page E1Print E-Mail Comments (5)
When a child is stillborn, parents are left devastated, but in California, they depart the maternity ward with nothing but a death certificate.
"The government recognizes the death of our son," says Sari Edber, 27, who lives in Los Angeles. "And the government mandates final disposition of the remains.
"I want them to recognize that my son was born. He was real. It would be easy to forget."
In 17 other states, bereaved parents can choose to receive a certificate acknowledging the stillbirth. But not in California -- not yet.
Edber and other members of the Mothers in Sympathy and Support (MISS) Foundation, a group dedicated to aiding families after the death of a child, are determined to change that.
"I wish you could've sat in on some of the meetings we had with these women," says state Sen. Abel Maldonado, R-Santa Maria, who's introducing legislation to give grieving California parents the option of being issued a "Certificate of Birth Resulting in Stillbirth."
"When they bring out their albums of pictures, with their hands holding their baby's tiny hand -- my Lord. It's just hard."
Stillbirth occurs an estimated 3,300 times each year in California -- across the country, up to 39,000 times. That's a surprising statistic in a country more accustomed to assuming that every wanted pregnancy has a happy outcome.
"I have four children," says Maldonado. "To see what these women have gone through is hard. They had a baby. They went through the whole process."
And they were left crushed by the loss.
When I wrote in January about a young woman named Catriona Harris -- whose son, Brady, was stillborn and who gave birth to a second child, a daughter named Reilly, last summer -- I heard from dozens of people whose lives, too, had been touched by stillbirth.
One was a man whose first child was stillborn in 1971. The hurt, it seems, never really vanishes, even when healthy babies come along later.
Sari Edber's son, Jacob, was stillborn July 20, 2006.
"He had my nose and my husband's features," says Edber, a teacher and volunteer lobbyist for MISS. "He was a perfect combination of us. He was our firstborn.
"Jacob's a part of our family. We'll have other children, but he'll always be their big brother."
In states where the certificate of stillbirth is already available, more than 70 percent of eligible parents elect to receive it, says Maldonado.
With the "MISSing Angels" bill, he says, "I don't want to say it will provide closure. These parents will never have closure. But there should be a recognition."
A validation, if you will, of their babies' brief existence.
Stillbirth is defined as unintentional fetal death after 20 weeks or more of gestation. The bill specifies that the new certificates aren't meant as proof of life.
"This isn't a pro-life, pro-choice issue," says Maldonado. "It's a personal issue that's important to women who've gone through this."
As common as stillbirth is -- affecting as many as one in 100 American pregnancies -- it's amazing that we don't talk about it more. Maybe we'd rather not think about it. But some people don't have a choice.
"I could talk for hours about why this bill is important," says Edber. "This bill recognizes the fact that I had a son. I gave birth. He was born. He existed."
Under the bill's provisions, California parents who choose the certificate would pay a fee for it.
Catriona Harris would like one.
"Absolutely, it's something I'd want," says Harris, 28, a public relations executive who grew up in Folsom and now lives in Florida. "It's another way of saying our child had a life, even if he only lived inside the womb."
Right now, we only have one legal document with his name on it. His death certificate."
About the writer:• Anita Creamer's column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays in Scene. Reach her at (916) 321-1136 or acreamer@sacbee.com. Back columns: www.sacbee.com/creamer.
Sacramento Bee Columnist (Sacramento, California)
Published 12:00 am PDT Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Story appeared in SCENE section, Page E1Print E-Mail Comments (5)
When a child is stillborn, parents are left devastated, but in California, they depart the maternity ward with nothing but a death certificate.
"The government recognizes the death of our son," says Sari Edber, 27, who lives in Los Angeles. "And the government mandates final disposition of the remains.
"I want them to recognize that my son was born. He was real. It would be easy to forget."
In 17 other states, bereaved parents can choose to receive a certificate acknowledging the stillbirth. But not in California -- not yet.
Edber and other members of the Mothers in Sympathy and Support (MISS) Foundation, a group dedicated to aiding families after the death of a child, are determined to change that.
"I wish you could've sat in on some of the meetings we had with these women," says state Sen. Abel Maldonado, R-Santa Maria, who's introducing legislation to give grieving California parents the option of being issued a "Certificate of Birth Resulting in Stillbirth."
"When they bring out their albums of pictures, with their hands holding their baby's tiny hand -- my Lord. It's just hard."
Stillbirth occurs an estimated 3,300 times each year in California -- across the country, up to 39,000 times. That's a surprising statistic in a country more accustomed to assuming that every wanted pregnancy has a happy outcome.
"I have four children," says Maldonado. "To see what these women have gone through is hard. They had a baby. They went through the whole process."
And they were left crushed by the loss.
When I wrote in January about a young woman named Catriona Harris -- whose son, Brady, was stillborn and who gave birth to a second child, a daughter named Reilly, last summer -- I heard from dozens of people whose lives, too, had been touched by stillbirth.
One was a man whose first child was stillborn in 1971. The hurt, it seems, never really vanishes, even when healthy babies come along later.
Sari Edber's son, Jacob, was stillborn July 20, 2006.
"He had my nose and my husband's features," says Edber, a teacher and volunteer lobbyist for MISS. "He was a perfect combination of us. He was our firstborn.
"Jacob's a part of our family. We'll have other children, but he'll always be their big brother."
In states where the certificate of stillbirth is already available, more than 70 percent of eligible parents elect to receive it, says Maldonado.
With the "MISSing Angels" bill, he says, "I don't want to say it will provide closure. These parents will never have closure. But there should be a recognition."
A validation, if you will, of their babies' brief existence.
Stillbirth is defined as unintentional fetal death after 20 weeks or more of gestation. The bill specifies that the new certificates aren't meant as proof of life.
"This isn't a pro-life, pro-choice issue," says Maldonado. "It's a personal issue that's important to women who've gone through this."
As common as stillbirth is -- affecting as many as one in 100 American pregnancies -- it's amazing that we don't talk about it more. Maybe we'd rather not think about it. But some people don't have a choice.
"I could talk for hours about why this bill is important," says Edber. "This bill recognizes the fact that I had a son. I gave birth. He was born. He existed."
Under the bill's provisions, California parents who choose the certificate would pay a fee for it.
Catriona Harris would like one.
"Absolutely, it's something I'd want," says Harris, 28, a public relations executive who grew up in Folsom and now lives in Florida. "It's another way of saying our child had a life, even if he only lived inside the womb."
Right now, we only have one legal document with his name on it. His death certificate."
About the writer:• Anita Creamer's column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays in Scene. Reach her at (916) 321-1136 or acreamer@sacbee.com. Back columns: www.sacbee.com/creamer.
Introduction
"The personal anguish is great, but more often it is of the sort that most of us experience during the course of simply living fully. The key lies not in our suffering, but in our ability to use it to connect with the pain of others. Held poorly, our torment seals us off from others or disables us; held well, awareness of our own pain enables us to resonate with that of others and work toward the healing of the whole community. " -The Power of One (www.yesmagazine.org)
On February 19, 2005 our daughter, Catherine Bailey Czajkowski, was born silently into this world when Jill was 40 weeks, 2 days into her pregnancy. She was our firstborn and her eyes never saw this world. She was 6 pounds, 2 ounces, 19.5 inches long, and absolutely beautiful. She also had her father Andy's eyes and Jill's nose--she was a perfect "merger" of the two of us. After an autopsy and genetic testing, her official cause of death is unknown.
Next, we worked with a wonderful hospital representative to designate how the money raised in Catherine's memory should be used and came up with the idea for memory boxes. We located a company to make the boxes and presented 25 boxes to the Labor & Delivery ward in May 2006. These boxes are decorated in beautiful white padded satiny fabric and contain a hat, gown, blanket, baby ring/necklace, hand/foot imprint kit, and more. Each box also contains a card that states that "This memory box was donated by the parents of Catherine Bailey Czajkowski". This past year, our second annual charitible Christmas Party, we raised over $3500! We used that money to order 36 more boxes for the hospital, as only two remained from our initial donation.
On February 19, 2005 our daughter, Catherine Bailey Czajkowski, was born silently into this world when Jill was 40 weeks, 2 days into her pregnancy. She was our firstborn and her eyes never saw this world. She was 6 pounds, 2 ounces, 19.5 inches long, and absolutely beautiful. She also had her father Andy's eyes and Jill's nose--she was a perfect "merger" of the two of us. After an autopsy and genetic testing, her official cause of death is unknown.That day, our lives changed significantly. We were devastated. Instead of calling family and friends to announce the joyous arrival of our daughter, we repeatedly had to deliver the tragic news that she had passed away. We ached to have our little girl with us.
As we continued to grieve and try to heal our wounds, we talked about preserving Catherine's memory. We wanted to do something positive to honor her instead of dwelling in despair. Our focus turned towards helping other parents who go through the same tragedy. We wanted to provide them some comfort. We contacted the hospital where Jill delivered Catherine and told them how we wanted to help. Then, we changed the theme of our annual Christmas party to a charitable event. We asked guests to donate to the hospital's Perinatal & Infant Loss Fund in Catherine's memory or to the MISS Foundation (Mothers in Sympathy and Support). We raised over $2500 that night!
Next, we worked with a wonderful hospital representative to designate how the money raised in Catherine's memory should be used and came up with the idea for memory boxes. We located a company to make the boxes and presented 25 boxes to the Labor & Delivery ward in May 2006. These boxes are decorated in beautiful white padded satiny fabric and contain a hat, gown, blanket, baby ring/necklace, hand/foot imprint kit, and more. Each box also contains a card that states that "This memory box was donated by the parents of Catherine Bailey Czajkowski". This past year, our second annual charitible Christmas Party, we raised over $3500! We used that money to order 36 more boxes for the hospital, as only two remained from our initial donation. Every one in 115 pregnancies results in stillbirth and yet we do not hear much about it। We hear all about SIDS, but more children die from stillbirth each year than SIDS! So many families are going through the worst experience of their life-losing a child and not much is being done to help them through difficult times. It means so much to us to be able to provide some comfort to them during their darkest hour.
It's been over two years now since Catherine passed away. We've established a "new normal" because we recognize that the old normal will never return. We've learned that the pain of losing a child will never go away, instead we've learned how to live through it. This past September, we were blessed with the birth of our second-born, a son named AJ. He is such a joy in our lives, however there isn't a day that goes by where we do not think about Catherine. We miss our little girl and love her dearly and we wish she were here to grow up together with her little brother.
Our goal this year is to create a foundation in Catherine's memory called "Catherine's Light". Our mission is to provide comfort to parents who lose a child to stillbirth. We want to show them that there can be light in the midst of darkness. We will continue to fundraise and provide memory boxes, but there are many other things that we'd like to do including creating and dedicating a memorial garden at the hospital, providing teddy bears to parents, working to provide professional pictures of their child, remembering their children during the holidays and anniversaries, and working with funeral homes to donate funeral costs for their children. We will also continue to bring stillbirth awareness and will post updates to this blog regularly.
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