[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 93 (Friday, June 27, 1997)]
[Senate]
[Pages S6790-S6792]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                     OUR LIVES WERE CHANGED FOREVER

  Mr. LOTT. Mr. President, the loss of child is probably the greatest 
heartache that any parent can experience or could conceivably 
experience.
  Last fall, Senator Santorum and his wife, Karen, faced that tragedy. 
Most of us, I am sure, had occasion to speak with them then and were 
impressed by their faith and their courage.
  Senator Santorum talks about his family's experience in an article in 
the May 23 issue of ``National Right to Life News.'' Its title is ``A 
Brief Life That Changed Our Lives Forever.'' It is very powerful, and I 
urge my colleagues to take the opportunity to read this article, 
because I think it will affect their lives also.
  I ask unanimous consent that this article be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

[[Page S6791]]

          [From the National Right to Life News, May 23, 1997]

                 A Brief That Changed Our Lives Forever

                           (By Rick Santorum)

       On September 26, 1996, the Senate voted to sustain 
     President Clinton's veto of the partial-Birth Abortion Ban. I 
     led the fight to override the veto on the floor of the 
     Senate.
       Central to the debate was the assertion by opponents of the 
     ban that this procedure is necessary later in pregnancy in 
     cases when a severe fetal defect is discovered. I was told 
     that I could not understand what these women, who experienced 
     this procedure, has gone through. ``It has never touched your 
     life,'' one senator said.
       This is a story of how just one week after that vote, it 
     did.
       We had been through the joyous sonogram routine before--the 
     technician would turn out the lights, spread gel on Karen's 
     growing adbomen, and then right there on the screen in front 
     of our eyes we would get the first glimpse of our baby--a 
     fuzzy, back-and-white picture that told us all was well.
       This time, however, was different. Sitting in the darkened 
     room explaining what we were seeing to our three children--
     ages 5, 3, and 1--everything seemed fine. But the woman with 
     the instrument was strangely quiet, examining and re-
     examining a dark circle on the screen. The doctor entered and 
     silently repeated the routine. Finally, we were coldly given 
     the verdict: ``Your child has a fatal defect and is going to 
     die.''
       It's not that the world stopped, nor that is moved in slow 
     motion, it was just that the world took on a new meaning. 
     Suddenly, our child whom we loved, prayed for, dreamed about, 
     and longed to meet was diagnosed with a fatal condition. 
     Through our tears erupted the most basis of all parental 
     emotions--we were going to save our child.
       I took the kids out into the hallway to the phone and 
     called Dr. N. Scott Adzick, who is the surgeon in chief of 
     pediatrics at Children's Hospital in Philadelphia. Six months 
     earlier, I had gone to Children's Hospital and seen a world I 
     had never known existed--a world of Dr. Adzick's creation--a 
     world of surgery and care for children still in their 
     mother's womb. I remembered his amazing skill and how I 
     sensed an aura of peace and a certainty of purpose 
     surrounding his mission.
       I frantically described what had transpired and asked if he 
     could help. Before he peppered me with questions, he calmly 
     reassured me that all was not lost. He had seen cases like 
     this before and knew immediately that it had to be post-
     urethral valve syndrome. Scott's principal concern had to do 
     with the absence of fluid in the amniotic sac, which meant 
     that our baby likely had a complete obstruction of his 
     urinary tract--in short, a very rare condition that carried 
     with it a 100% mortality rate if untreated.
       Not typically understood is that the element comprising the 
     amniotic fluid encompassing the baby during development is 
     the baby's urine. The fluid not only provides a barrier of 
     protection from outside trauma, but it is necessary in the 
     development of the baby's lungs. Without the fluid his lungs 
     would not develop enough for him to survive outside the womb. 
     In addition, this condition would cause the kidneys to cease 
     functioning.
       Dr. Adzick arranged for tests to be done the next day at 
     The Pennsylvania Hospital. The initial results did not look 
     good. Seated in front of our second sonogram machine in as 
     many days, Dr. Adzick and Dr. Alan Donnenfeld, an ob/gyn and 
     perinatologist, told us that the kidneys looked like their 
     function was severely compromised. Dr. Adzick told us that 
     though he, too, was discouraged, there was an occasion where 
     he had seen damaged kidneys have sufficient levels of 
     function, enabling a baby to survive until a transplant.
       We adjourned to a supply room next to the treatment area. 
     The purpose of the meeting was to discuss options. Dr. 
     Donnenfeld took the lead, saying that things were grave, and 
     presenting us with three options. ``Your first option is to 
     terminate the pregnancy.'' As the word pregnancy left his 
     lips the room instantly went dark. The doctor quickly reached 
     up and turned on the light, which was on a timer. Through 
     nervous and awkward laughter I said, ``I guess that answers 
     your question.''
       We knew that abortion was a legal option, it just wasn't a 
     sane one. It was inconceivable to us as parents to kill our 
     baby because he wasn't perfect or because he might not live a 
     long life. While we couldn't look into his eyes or hold him 
     in our arms, he was no less our child than our other three 
     children. And we loved him every bit as much. He was our gift 
     from God from the moment we found out Karen was pregnant. In 
     our mind, from that time on our job as parents of this tiny 
     life was to do everything we could to nurture him through 
     life. Karen and I have this saying, ``life is about being 
     there,'' and we were going to be there for our baby.
       The second option was to do nothing. In this case our son 
     would live only as long as he was in the womb. While in the 
     womb our baby's lungs and kidneys were not necessary for him 
     to survive--Karen was performing those functions for him.
       The third option would entail several tests and possibly 
     intrauterine surgery. Karen's immediate response was to do 
     whatever it took to save our son.
       Our son went through two days of tests to determine kidney 
     function. If there was no kidney function there would be no 
     point in proceeding further--he would not develop enough in 
     the womb to survive outside. The first day the test results 
     were so bad that we discussed whether it was worth going 
     through a second painful day for Karen. Dr. Adzick said we 
     needed a miracle overnight to get those kidneys to work 
     better.
       We prayed more than I can remember for our son, who we 
     named that day Gabriel Michael, after the great Archangels. 
     The next day our prayers were answered with a miraculous 
     improvement; the kidneys were not just okay, but functioning 
     normally! We could now do the surgery that would save his 
     life.
       Had this occurred in our lives years earlier, I don't know 
     how we would have dealt with it. But in the past several 
     years we had found a closer relationship with God.
       Shortly after being elected to the Senate, Sen. Don Nickles 
     of Oklahoma invited me to come to a small Bible study. I went 
     that day and I have attended faithfully ever since. I found 
     the piece that fit what C.S. Lewis has called that ``great, 
     God-shaped hole in our soul.'' I found a new and better 
     relationship with God. And I learned one of life's best 
     lessons: that I can't do anything alone, that I had to give 
     up my illusion of control and put my trust in God.
       Karen's story is little different than mine. For the past 
     several years Karen has pursued her faith on an ever 
     ascending level. Through prayer, studying the Bible and 
     Catholic catechism, and now attending daily mass, she too 
     learned to try to give up her control and rely on God's 
     grace.
       Thanks to Lloyd Ogilvie, the Chaplain of the Senate, our 
     parish priests and the prayers of our friends, this crisis 
     was not so much a ``faith check'' for us as it was a time of 
     reassurance. For we knew that no matter what happened, God 
     held all of us in his hands. With that knowledge there is a 
     peace beyond human understanding.
       The surgical procedure to drain the urine into the amniotic 
     sac, in an effort to create the proper fluid environment for 
     Gabriel, was scheduled at The Pennsylvania Hospital with Dr. 
     Bud Wiener. Dr. Wiener had done more of these procedures than 
     anyone else on the East Coast and had pioneered the plastic 
     tube that would be inserted in Gabriel's bladder to drain the 
     urine.
       The idea that surgery on a child in only his 20th week of 
     life inside the womb boggles the mind. And watching Dr. 
     Wiener at work was something to behold as he guided the tube 
     into place. We would check in three days to see if the tube 
     was working, and of course there is the customary surgical 
     concern about infection.
       Two days later while we were at home in Pittsburgh, Karen 
     began feeling both chills and cramping--the chills were a 
     sign of infection and the cramping was the beginning of 
     labor.
       Hoping desperately that it was food poisoning or the flu, 
     Karen fought to hold it together. A call to Dr. Donnenfeld 
     was met with an order to rush to Magee Women's Hospital.
       There a doctor performed another sonogram. What we saw made 
     this moment even more tragic. The fuzzy picture on the screen 
     showed an active baby jumping and moving freely in a sac of 
     amniotic fluid. The procedure had worked like a charm, but 
     there was infection.
       Karen was seized with horrible chills. Huddled under a 
     dozen blankets her temperature soared to over 105. By this 
     point there was little that could be done. Intra-uterine 
     infections are untreatable as long as the source of the 
     infection--the amniotic sac--is in place. We knew that at 
     20 weeks [4\1/2\ months], Gabriel could not survive 
     outside the womb. But, unless the amniotic sac and thereby 
     our son was delivered, Karen would soon die, and Gabriel 
     with her.
       Karen was given an antibiotic which reduced the fever, made 
     her comfortable and took her out of immediate danger. She 
     clung to the baby with all her strength, but nature was 
     relentless. Soon the labor intensified--the body had 
     identified the source of the problem and took measures to 
     eliminate the infection. She did everything she could to 
     delay the inevitable, putting her own life in danger in the 
     process. I talked to everyone I knew to see if there was 
     something that could be done. There was no answer to be 
     found.
       Here again the doctors told us that abortion was a legal 
     option to protect Karen's health and possibly save her life. 
     But with the support of Dr. Cynthia Simms we arrived at 
     another way--a way that gave our son the love and respect he 
     deserved, and gave Karen and me a gift that we will forever 
     cherish.
       Our call to Dr. Adzick, who had become a supportive force 
     for us throughout, put an end to our search for alternatives. 
     He told Karen that Gabriel would have to be delivered. I 
     thanked God for the presence of Karen's parents who provided 
     so much love and support and our friend Monsignor Bill Kerr 
     who was also there providing spiritual guidance.
       We knew the end was very near, so we tried to pack a 
     lifetime of love into those few hours. I put my hands on 
     Karen's abdomen. We prayed and we cried. We told him how much 
     we loved him--how much we will miss mothering and fathering 
     him, and how his brothers and sisters will miss his presence 
     in their lives.
       Within hours, at 12:45 a.m., our son was born. He was a 
     beautiful, fully formed creation--a small, pink package of 
     joy, sorrow, hope, and questions. We bundled him up and put a 
     little hat on his head to keep him warm. We held him, sang to 
     him and cried

[[Page S6792]]

     for him. He was too small to make a sound, but he spoke so 
     powerfully to our hearts. His eyes never opened to see his 
     mommy and daddy, but he allowed us to see in him the face of 
     God.
       Two hours later, he died in my arms.
       We tried to make Gabriel's short time on earth filled with 
     love, only love. We told him that soon he would experience 
     something we are striving for. He will be with God in heaven. 
     Finally, we pledged to him that we would rededicate ourselves 
     to joining him someday.
       This is our story. The irony of finding ourselves 
     confronted with a baby with a fatal defect--when only a few 
     days before some considered the absence of such experience to 
     disqualify me from the debate on partial-birth abortion--was 
     truly overwhelming. On two occasions, we too could have 
     chosen the option to abort. We knew that Gabriel's life would 
     probably be measured in minutes and hours, not in years and 
     decades. We chose to let Gabriel live and die in the fullness 
     of time--being held and loved and nurtured by two parents who 
     loved him.
       We wouldn't have traded the gift of those two hours with 
     our son for anything in the world. And we know that he 
     wouldn't have either.
       In the midst of the debate that fall, worried about the 
     impact of the gruesome description of the procedure, one of 
     the senators opposing the ban said that a partial-birth 
     abortion, like a simple appendectomy was bloody--that was 
     just the nature of the event.
       The Washington Post described what happened next.
       ``Republican Sen. Rick Santorum turned to face the 
     opposition and in a high, pleading voice cried out, `Where do 
     we draw the line? Some people have likened this procedure to 
     an appendectomy. That's not an appendix,' he shouted, 
     pointing to a drawing of a fetus. `That is not a blob of 
     tissue. It is a baby. It's a baby.'
       ``And then, impossibly, in an already hushed gallery, in 
     one of those moments when the floor of the Senate looks like 
     a stage set, with its small wooden desks somehow too small 
     for the matters at hand, the cry of a baby pierced the room, 
     echoing across the chamber from an outside hallway.
       ``No one mentioned the cry, but for a few seconds no one 
     spoke at all.''
       A freak occurrence--a visitor's baby was crying in the 
     hallway as a door to the floor was opened and few seconds 
     later closed.
       A freak occurrence perhaps--or maybe, a cry from the son 
     whose voice we never heard, but whose life has forever 
     changed ours.

                          ____________________