Bankin' It
Cord blood banking seems to be all over the “You’re Expecting a Baby!” marketing crap that websites and direct-mail companies send you, yet no one seems to really talk about it.
Baby and pregnancy forums—at least mine—are virtually silent on the topic, but World War III can break out over a mom-to-be debating the use of crib bumpers or who admits to taking a sip of Guiness on St. Patrick’s Day.
Anyway, cord blood banking—in which the doctor removes the blood from the umbilical cord after the baby’s birth in order to obtain and subsequently store precious stem cells that are a perfect match for the just-born baby—is absent from these forums. Why? Do most people just not do it? Or, do most people just go ahead and do it, and it’s as humdrum as pre-registering for labor and delivery at the hospital? I don’t feel strongly about cord blood banking; I just find the silence on it really surprising.
Because Chris and I have discussed it to death.
Stem cells can be used for all sorts of nifty things, especially to treat leukemia, and more and more research is being done to explore their uses. To my knowledge, they have also been successfully used to treat the side effects of stroke, cerebral palsy, and “rebuilding” parts of the brain after a traumatic brain injury. I think some research is also being done with some autoimmune conditions.
As my doctor said, cord banking companies prey on parents’ worst fears, but, she added, “the science behind it is solid, and it’s only getting better." In short, it’s not like one of those SIDs-prevention gadgets in the newborn aisle of Babies R Us, which possibly do more harm than good. No, stem cell research and cord blood banking have medicine, science, technology, and research behind them. And a price tag to go with.
The initial fee for the cord company to wave its magic wands to extract all those stem cells from the blood is around two grand. The annual storage fee from then on is a couple hundred bucks per year.
With Charlotte, I ran it by my doctor to ensure cord blood banking wasn’t some outrageous scam, exploiting my naïve and paranoid new-mommy status. It was legitimate, she assured me. “What I tell people is, if you’re choosing between financing diapers and cord blood, don’t do it. If you’re debating between a vacation and cord blood, I’d do the cord blood banking, because traveling with kids is really no fun anyway.” (This proved true, by the way.)
For Charlotte, that sealed it for us. She was born, that same doctor pulled out all the blood from the resulting entrails, and Chris paced the hospital with the kit, impatiently waiting for the messenger who was delayed in picking it up due to the snow I vaguely remember seeing fall outside my room window.
Was it worth it? For Charlotte, yes. Absolutely. Remember when my sweet little 9-month-old baby was in the hospital for the four most awful days of Chris's and my lives? She was SO sick and undergoing so many tests, all of which kept coming up clear. The mystery built, her diapers got increasingly bloody, and her white blood cell count continued to climb. When Chris left to go find coffee or shower or something, I rocked and rocked my miserable, flushed, burning hot baby—well, the best I could, what with the IV and machines and such hooked up to her. I stared at her, thinking, “Oh my God, what if she’s catastrophically ill? What if she has cancer? How will she endure it? How will WE endure it?” And yes, my mind went to that horrifyingly dark place, that place we’re never supposed to talk about, that place where I worried what if I lose her?
Remember, we had multiple pediatric doctors working on her, scratching their heads. Nobody yet knew that she’d be totally fine.
So, as I stared at her, I clung—CLUNG—to the knowledge that whatever diagnosis the doctors eventually gave us, we had hundreds of millions of Charlotte stem cells ready, if we needed them. That knowledge truly kept me from absolute mental despair. And after that teeny tiny glimpse into the world of the sick child, my empathy for parents of genuinely sick children skyrocketed. I simply cannot imagine their pain. I literally get nightmares from St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials.
Charlotte obviously ended up being fine in the end, and our lives eventually returned to normal.
So, we now had to decide on Lorelei. I discussed all this with my doctor (again, 3 years later), as having the stem cells available of a sibling (Charlotte) decreases the need to bank Lorelei’s cord blood and thus makes the decision harder. “I did it for all three of my kids,” my doctor said, “and sometimes I wonder if I’m nuts, when I think about the cost. I mean, the chances are SO slim they’d ever be used, but damn, the science just keeps getting better.”
I relayed the story of our Charlotte saga to my doctor, and she looked at me, surprised. “Oh, so you feel like you’ve gotten value out of it already?” she said.
“Totally," I said. "It was an odd circumstance, I know, but psychologically, it meant the world to me, knowing we had those freaking stem cells if we needed them. Whether we ever legitimately need them or not, I’ve gotten my two grand’s worth.”
The Lorelei decision was tricky, as we now had a decent back-up plan in place with sibling stem cells already stored. “If you did it for your first child, but you don’t for your second, it doesn’t mean you love her any less,” my doctor said.
Chris and I debated and debated and debated. He was split 50/50 (I think there’s a 1 in 4 chance our girls would actually have a perfect match, thus making storage for Lorelei potentially pointless, but I’m not positive I understand that correctly). I wanted to bank for Lorelei, as I’ve had a child in the hospital (well, so has Chris) and I remember—very clearly—how terrifying it was, how much comfort those frozen cells brought me. But I wanted Chris to come to his own decision and not feel like he needed to get on board to appease me.
Well, since we’re nearing the end of the pregnancy and have to meet with the other doctors in the practice, my latest appointment was with a doctor with whom I hadn’t yet discussed blood banking. Chris was with me (because of a sonogram), so we decided to get this doctor's two cents and compare the two OBs' takes.
This doctor did not hesitate. “If you did it for your first and can afford to do it again for the second, do it. Sibling blood is better than nothing, yes, but a lot of research and potential regeneration uses for stem cells require a perfect match.” I was surprised by her forthrightness, especially because she’s really soft-spoken most of the time. That sealed it. I think my main OB was trying to ensure I didn’t feel bad if I opted out of cord blood banking for Lorelei, but what I really wanted was some guidance on whether doing Lorelei’s was preemptive panicking and a knee-jerk reaction to the Charlotte hoopla, or whether it really was the wisest thing to do, in our case.
And I’m glad Chris was there to witness her opinion. “Boy, she didn’t even hesitate, did she?” I said as we left the doctor’s office.
“Nope,” Chris said. “Let’s do it. Let’s bank Lorelei’s cord blood.”
I was so relieved to have the decision FINALLY made. Chris registered Lorelei the next day.
Anyway, I’m not trying to promote cord blood banking, because frankly, 99.9% of the time it’s throwing money down the toilet. And the American Academy of Pediatrics is actually against cord blood banking, instead promoting donation of it to a national registry. (I understand their position, as they’re looking out for the greatest number of kids, but donation is not an option for us, as only one hospital in Maryland participates in cord blood donation, and it's all the way out in Baltimore. So, our options are to store it or literally throw it away.)
Honestly, if I hadn’t depended so heavily on the knowledge that we had Charlotte’s cord blood during what was, really, an usual case, I’m not so sure that we would be banking Lorelei’s. Banking or not banking cord blood is absolutely NOT a reflection of a parent’s love for his or her baby. I'm sure of that. But I'm relieved to have finally made a decision, the ball is rolling, the kit is on its way, and we don't have to DEBATE any more. I'm comfy with our decision, even if we never, ever use Lorelei's cord blood. In fact, I dearly hope we never, ever have to.
Baby and pregnancy forums—at least mine—are virtually silent on the topic, but World War III can break out over a mom-to-be debating the use of crib bumpers or who admits to taking a sip of Guiness on St. Patrick’s Day.
Anyway, cord blood banking—in which the doctor removes the blood from the umbilical cord after the baby’s birth in order to obtain and subsequently store precious stem cells that are a perfect match for the just-born baby—is absent from these forums. Why? Do most people just not do it? Or, do most people just go ahead and do it, and it’s as humdrum as pre-registering for labor and delivery at the hospital? I don’t feel strongly about cord blood banking; I just find the silence on it really surprising.
Because Chris and I have discussed it to death.
Stem cells can be used for all sorts of nifty things, especially to treat leukemia, and more and more research is being done to explore their uses. To my knowledge, they have also been successfully used to treat the side effects of stroke, cerebral palsy, and “rebuilding” parts of the brain after a traumatic brain injury. I think some research is also being done with some autoimmune conditions.
As my doctor said, cord banking companies prey on parents’ worst fears, but, she added, “the science behind it is solid, and it’s only getting better." In short, it’s not like one of those SIDs-prevention gadgets in the newborn aisle of Babies R Us, which possibly do more harm than good. No, stem cell research and cord blood banking have medicine, science, technology, and research behind them. And a price tag to go with.
The initial fee for the cord company to wave its magic wands to extract all those stem cells from the blood is around two grand. The annual storage fee from then on is a couple hundred bucks per year.
With Charlotte, I ran it by my doctor to ensure cord blood banking wasn’t some outrageous scam, exploiting my naïve and paranoid new-mommy status. It was legitimate, she assured me. “What I tell people is, if you’re choosing between financing diapers and cord blood, don’t do it. If you’re debating between a vacation and cord blood, I’d do the cord blood banking, because traveling with kids is really no fun anyway.” (This proved true, by the way.)
For Charlotte, that sealed it for us. She was born, that same doctor pulled out all the blood from the resulting entrails, and Chris paced the hospital with the kit, impatiently waiting for the messenger who was delayed in picking it up due to the snow I vaguely remember seeing fall outside my room window.
Was it worth it? For Charlotte, yes. Absolutely. Remember when my sweet little 9-month-old baby was in the hospital for the four most awful days of Chris's and my lives? She was SO sick and undergoing so many tests, all of which kept coming up clear. The mystery built, her diapers got increasingly bloody, and her white blood cell count continued to climb. When Chris left to go find coffee or shower or something, I rocked and rocked my miserable, flushed, burning hot baby—well, the best I could, what with the IV and machines and such hooked up to her. I stared at her, thinking, “Oh my God, what if she’s catastrophically ill? What if she has cancer? How will she endure it? How will WE endure it?” And yes, my mind went to that horrifyingly dark place, that place we’re never supposed to talk about, that place where I worried what if I lose her?
Remember, we had multiple pediatric doctors working on her, scratching their heads. Nobody yet knew that she’d be totally fine.
So, as I stared at her, I clung—CLUNG—to the knowledge that whatever diagnosis the doctors eventually gave us, we had hundreds of millions of Charlotte stem cells ready, if we needed them. That knowledge truly kept me from absolute mental despair. And after that teeny tiny glimpse into the world of the sick child, my empathy for parents of genuinely sick children skyrocketed. I simply cannot imagine their pain. I literally get nightmares from St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials.
Charlotte obviously ended up being fine in the end, and our lives eventually returned to normal.
So, we now had to decide on Lorelei. I discussed all this with my doctor (again, 3 years later), as having the stem cells available of a sibling (Charlotte) decreases the need to bank Lorelei’s cord blood and thus makes the decision harder. “I did it for all three of my kids,” my doctor said, “and sometimes I wonder if I’m nuts, when I think about the cost. I mean, the chances are SO slim they’d ever be used, but damn, the science just keeps getting better.”
I relayed the story of our Charlotte saga to my doctor, and she looked at me, surprised. “Oh, so you feel like you’ve gotten value out of it already?” she said.
“Totally," I said. "It was an odd circumstance, I know, but psychologically, it meant the world to me, knowing we had those freaking stem cells if we needed them. Whether we ever legitimately need them or not, I’ve gotten my two grand’s worth.”
The Lorelei decision was tricky, as we now had a decent back-up plan in place with sibling stem cells already stored. “If you did it for your first child, but you don’t for your second, it doesn’t mean you love her any less,” my doctor said.
Chris and I debated and debated and debated. He was split 50/50 (I think there’s a 1 in 4 chance our girls would actually have a perfect match, thus making storage for Lorelei potentially pointless, but I’m not positive I understand that correctly). I wanted to bank for Lorelei, as I’ve had a child in the hospital (well, so has Chris) and I remember—very clearly—how terrifying it was, how much comfort those frozen cells brought me. But I wanted Chris to come to his own decision and not feel like he needed to get on board to appease me.
Well, since we’re nearing the end of the pregnancy and have to meet with the other doctors in the practice, my latest appointment was with a doctor with whom I hadn’t yet discussed blood banking. Chris was with me (because of a sonogram), so we decided to get this doctor's two cents and compare the two OBs' takes.
This doctor did not hesitate. “If you did it for your first and can afford to do it again for the second, do it. Sibling blood is better than nothing, yes, but a lot of research and potential regeneration uses for stem cells require a perfect match.” I was surprised by her forthrightness, especially because she’s really soft-spoken most of the time. That sealed it. I think my main OB was trying to ensure I didn’t feel bad if I opted out of cord blood banking for Lorelei, but what I really wanted was some guidance on whether doing Lorelei’s was preemptive panicking and a knee-jerk reaction to the Charlotte hoopla, or whether it really was the wisest thing to do, in our case.
And I’m glad Chris was there to witness her opinion. “Boy, she didn’t even hesitate, did she?” I said as we left the doctor’s office.
“Nope,” Chris said. “Let’s do it. Let’s bank Lorelei’s cord blood.”
I was so relieved to have the decision FINALLY made. Chris registered Lorelei the next day.
Anyway, I’m not trying to promote cord blood banking, because frankly, 99.9% of the time it’s throwing money down the toilet. And the American Academy of Pediatrics is actually against cord blood banking, instead promoting donation of it to a national registry. (I understand their position, as they’re looking out for the greatest number of kids, but donation is not an option for us, as only one hospital in Maryland participates in cord blood donation, and it's all the way out in Baltimore. So, our options are to store it or literally throw it away.)
Honestly, if I hadn’t depended so heavily on the knowledge that we had Charlotte’s cord blood during what was, really, an usual case, I’m not so sure that we would be banking Lorelei’s. Banking or not banking cord blood is absolutely NOT a reflection of a parent’s love for his or her baby. I'm sure of that. But I'm relieved to have finally made a decision, the ball is rolling, the kit is on its way, and we don't have to DEBATE any more. I'm comfy with our decision, even if we never, ever use Lorelei's cord blood. In fact, I dearly hope we never, ever have to.
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