As I sift through the stack of documents—waivers, medical recommendations, and case studies—spread out on my kitchen table, I can almost hear the imagined cries of protesters in my mind: “Stem cells are life! Don’t destroy life! Those embryos have rights too!” This large manila envelope arrived discreetly in the mail, and I found myself battling the impulse to conceal it as I made my way back into the house. Would the homeowners’ association take issue with this? Are such materials even permitted according to neighborhood regulations?
The challenge is that so many people don’t truly understand the situation. They skim the headlines and glance at the protest signs, much like I did until the day I realized my son needed stem cell therapy to help him walk, talk, and move with more freedom.
Cerebral Palsy: A Daily Struggle
Cerebral palsy isn’t something you can simply “work through.” It’s not a condition you can just overcome. Just ask our insurance company. We do everything we can: we have our go-to physical, feeding, speech, and occupational therapists. Our son enjoys equine therapy and benefits from swimming in private indoor pools for aquatic therapy. We pursue every avenue available, and yet it still falls short.
He relies on a wheelchair, a walker, and a stander, and that’s still not enough. It cannot grant him the independence he longs for, which as a mother, I would happily provide. But I know he desires more than just a mom guiding him through life. Thus, I find myself poring over forms, signing waivers, and engaging in conference calls with the pathologists and study coordinators at the university hosting this stem cell study.
Understanding Stem Cell Therapy
When people hear “stem cells,” they often picture tiny, developing embryos destined to become full-fledged babies. It evokes a sense of wanting to hold our children closer, to protect them. But let me clarify: this isn’t what you might assume. As a mother of three who has gone through multiple rounds of IVF and still has three frozen embryos, I would never take embryos from anyone else.
Advancements in stem cell research have led us to use stem cells derived from leftover blood cells in donated umbilical cords and placentas. We are immensely grateful to the mothers who choose to donate rather than discard these cells. We need those regenerative powers for our son.
The Hope and Hesitation
Will this treatment be the miraculous solution that repairs damaged brain cells, like a superhero story? Will it mean that the wheelchair gathers dust, and that sign-language videos can be put away? I can’t say for sure. But I know I want to try. I want to give my son the best opportunity for a fulfilling life, whatever that may entail.
Yet, I hesitate to share our decision to pursue stem cell therapy because I fear the mental image it may conjure—of vulnerable embryos being harvested for our benefit. I want to explain our choice before anyone jumps to conclusions. I wish for my narrative to be clearer and more compelling than the misconceptions surrounding it. I envision a billboard of understanding.
For now, I’ll focus on my manila envelope and confront the unspoken fears as they arise, because that’s what parents do. We navigate societal judgments with the hope that by the time our children take on the world, perceptions will have evolved.
This article was originally published on May 5, 2017.
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Summary:
This article shares a mother’s journey as she navigates the complexities of seeking stem cell therapy for her son with cerebral palsy. Despite societal misconceptions, she emphasizes the importance of understanding and support in her quest to improve her child’s quality of life.