Fetal Microchimerism

Fetal microchimerism (FMc) describes the persistence of low numbers of fetal cells in the mother after a pregnancy. A number of recent studies suggests FMc may play a role in the etiology of some autoimmune diseases. Remarkably, FMc has been demonstrated to persist for up to 38 years after pregnancy…

– http://www.bloodjournal.org/content/102/10/3465?sso-checked=true

Pregnancy, in itself, is a miracle. When you actually study the millions of infinitesimal things that have to occur in the right order and at the right time in order to conceive and grow a baby, you begin to wonder how it is that babies are even conceived every day. It seems so impossible, so improbable, and there seems to be so much that could go wrong. This is, of course, why miscarriages also occur every day: because things can and do go wrong.

But any pregnancy will change the mother, no matter the duration of the pregnancy. As evidenced by the occurrence of fetal microchimerism, the living proof of a baby’s presence persists in the mother, long after the baby is gone, either through birth or death. What we do in the physical world changes us forever. Our babies change us forever…and this occurs even on such a minute biological level as our cells.

Fascinatingly, this also gives a greater depth to the physical reality of siblings. As the second child, I carry both my mother’s and my older sister’s cells inside my body. As the youngest, my little sister carries our mother’s cells, our older sister’s cells, and my own cells inside of her body. By extension, Cecilia carries both my cells and Lizzy’s cells within her tiny body.

Sometimes, the thought that I carry part of Lizzy–living on a cellular level inside of me–gives me a modicum of comfort. And sometimes, it means next to nothing, because I already know that I have been changed forever by Lizzy’s life and death, and I know that I carry that change with me wherever I go. Lizzy’s cells are not Lizzy in fullness or in perpetuity; they are simply the physical evidence that she was brought into life through my body, and that my body, like my mind, can never forget her.

There is a lot of new science claiming that cells have memory. When I think about this, I wonder about Lizzy’s cells within me and how they remember my pregnancy with her. Then I wonder if, after her birth, they started to take on my own memories, since Lizzy was no longer inside of me. And now that Lizzy is gone, do her cells inside of me feel the same damage of pain and grief that my own cells feel? Are Lizzy’s cells capable of remembering her life within the womb through her, and her death outside the womb through me?

The complexities of this question drown me, and I end up in a rabbit warren of postulations and pondering. It is enough to know that Lizzy’s cells live on within me and within Cecilia. It is enough to prove that our bodies, our lives, and our very beings have been forever influenced and imprinted with the mystery of Lizzy’s short life. It is enough to experience how the world has been forever changed by her life and forever damaged–forever lessened–by her death. It is enough, and it is never enough.

Even if I tried, I could not enumerate all of the ways in which Lizzy’s life changed me and forged me into the person I believe I was meant to be. She taught me more about living and about the purpose of my life in the short two years of her own life than I learned in all the years of my formal education, which took me through the graduate level. It is perfectly reasonable to me that the incredible influence of Lizzy’s wondrous little life would persist, reflect, and live on, even on a biological level, inside of me.

And the thought that she lives inside of Cecilia on a biological level does give me comfort. Lizzy and Cecilia never got to meet, but Lizzy was present for all but a month of my pregnancy with Cecilia. I sometimes lay awake at night thinking how I am supposed to explain to Cecilia why and how Lizzy died at the time that she died and why Cecilia never got to meet her big sister. I know that I will use language like “Lizzy is your own personal guardian angel who watched over you throughout your birth.” And I am glad that I get to tell her that Lizzy’s cells live on inside of her body. There is little enough of Lizzy that I get to give to Cecilia, and although it will never be enough, the cellular proof that Lizzy was here, and that she still is here–through wherever life takes us–helps.