Copyright 2002 Catholic Exchange
A Simple Choice
My son was born in May, 1975, after only 5½ months in the womb. As a result, his lungs were not fully developed, so his survival was in jeopardy.
I remember receiving a call from my wife Cyndi, a paralegal for a local law firm in downtown San Diego at the time. She told me something was wrong and she had begun spotting. Shortly thereafter we were both at the hospital.
Mathew, it seems, aided by what was later described to us as an incompetent cervix, had decided to be born that day. And so it was that our firstborn son whom we had long been anticipating and preparing for came into the world needing special care from both his parents and the medical professionals in our midst. Sadly, he would not receive this care. You see, my wife and I were very young in our early twenties and were given straightforward information about a “choice” we needed to make. Tragically, whatever wisdom, knowledge and experience we now possess did not manifest itself at that crucial moment in our lives.
The choice presented to us was basically this:
1) Instruct the doctors and hospital to bring forth all the technology and resources available to keep Mathew alive and breathing; or
2) Decide, based on the possibility of mental retardation and the effect this would have on our “quality of life,” that such a course should not be pursued and that nature should instead be “allowed to take its course.”
The professionals made a point of emphasizing to us that providing oxygen to tiny Mathew could possibly cause brain damage. They asked us to consider the burden this might place on us and on him. Raising a child that may be mentally retarded would be difficult, we were told. What would his “quality of life” be? What would ours be? With that simple information we were asked to decide the fate of our small son.
Nothing More I Could Do
After receiving this input, I remember returning to the nursery window again and again to watch little Mathew lay there and struggle to breathe. Oh, what an effort it was for him! I remember how otherwise sturdy he appeared, with his thick dark hair and olive-colored skin.
We gave all the consideration possible at that time to the information given us and made our “choice.” If only we had been as open to the Holy Spirit then as we are now.
Choice #2 was of course presented with words of peace and comfort “allowing nature to take it’s course.” Choice #1 was presented in terms of stress and risk risk to him and risk to us. At risk was our quality of life, our level of comfort. “Try to think of that,” they kept telling us. “Would you really want that for him or for yourselves?”
I continued to go to the nursery window to see my son. And my wife and I continued to struggle with what we were going to do. I do not remember Cyndi being able to see him as I could since she was under observation following the premature delivery and he was not ready to be taken from the nursery to be with his mother.
How I wish prayer had been as much a part of my life then as it is now. What spiritual discernment would have been available to us had we simply turned to God and handed the problem over to Him?
Going with what we had at the time, we decided to allow nature to take its course with Mathew. This meant that the medical professionals would not provide the precious oxygen he needed to breathe adequately. Nor do I believe Mathew was fed after this point, though I can't remember for sure. I just recall that nothing was “hooked up” to him at all. Mathew simply lay there peacefully but for the breathing difficulty until nature finished taking its course.
I continued to visit him regularly throughout that long day. Then, when it got very late, I went home, having been told there was nothing I could do for my wife or son. Early the next morning I received a phone call informing me that Mathew had died. Tired and confused, I hung up the phone and cried myself back to sleep. Later that morning I returned to the hospital to join my wife. She was aware that Mathew was gone.
Thanks for Being Our Son
Though he eternally lives in Heaven and is therefore a saint to our family, Mathew lost his life for not a whole lot of anything. Quality of life? He lost his life! How much quality is there in that? There obviously would not have been a loss in quality of life for either him or us had he been given the assistance he needed to stay alive. There would have been an abundance of quality for him, and us, had he remained alive. It is possible that he may have died anyway, even if we'd made the choice to apply all the technology and resources available to helping him survive. Perhaps he would have turned out to have been mentally retarded. Frankly, that would have been alright. But Mathew was not given the benefit of the doubt.
Years later, in the mid 1980s, while on a flight across country I read a magazine which brought the tragedy of what I had done home to me with full force. Prior to that I had lived without the slightest qualm of conscience regarding my decision about Mathew. That chapter of our lives had passed and Cyndi and I were now blessed with six more children.
But on the plane that day I happened to get very involved in an article on “quality of life.” I read, I reflected, I remembered little Mathew, and I read on. Suddenly, every element of my being mind, body and soul was electrified with the awareness that I had made a terrible decision regarding Mathew. My son was sacrificed in the name of “quality of life.” The error of it came crashing down on me with a terrible force and I broke down crying right then and there. The folks around me had the courtesy not to intrude on my privacy.
Since reading that article and coming to understand how deeply flawed the “quality of life” argument actually is, I thought I had better write about my experience to perhaps help someone else avoid my mistake. Though it's been 27 years since I allowed my son to die, I pray that my story will be of value to someone else out there whose conscience and moral foundation may not yet be fully formed.
Mathew, my dear son, I thank you for forgiving your mom and me for the mistake we made. I am grateful that you are in Heaven with God our Father. Tell me, what is it like being able to see and communicate with St. Joseph, our Blessed Mother and Jesus himself? What do angels look like, dear Mathew? Thank you for your intercessory prayers on behalf of all of us down here. Thank you for being our son these past 27 years and for the rest of eternity, though we will not get to see you for a while longer. Please continue interceding for your brothers Nick, Luke and Peter, for your sisters Trisha, Katie and Olivia, and for your mom and me. Please also intercede for all the unknown little ones yet to be born into our extended family, whom you already know and who we will get to know someday. Thank you, dear boy. And please stay right here in your daddy's heart until I can see you, living and breathing, once again.