Nobody's Child (27 page)

Laura Ann heard Uncle Jack's trademark
harrumph
in the back of the room. He launched up from his seat, a fist raised.

“No!”

Judge O'Dell pointed a bony finger toward her uncle. “Order in my court, Jack Harris. Or I'll lock you up for contempt—in your own brother's jail.” The judge let his command settle the room, then he leaned forward, both hands on the bench. He nodded to Mr. Brewer.

“Your Honor, I submit as evidence of maternity a state-certified DNA test, based on a blood sample drawn last Thursday.”

He handed the paper to the clerk, who read aloud. “Combined parentage index 153.435. Probability of maternity 99.954 percent. Laura Ann McGehee, probable mother. James M. McQuistion, child.”

Judge O'Dell shook his head, his mouth agape.

Mr. Brewer continued. “Laura Ann, state for the court how you came to be the biological mother of this child.”

She took a deep breath, keeping her eyes locked on Ian. “Daddy and I needed money. He didn't know it, but I volunteered to be an egg donor at the Morgantown Fertility Clinic.” She shivered, then continued. “I donated sixty-eight eggs over the course of four visits. What they call ‘harvests.' Ms. McQuistion became pregnant using some of the eggs donated on my first trip.” She bit her lip, closing her eyes a moment to recapture her calm, then continued. “She chose me using an Internet profile that was posted on the clinic website, and later came to Middlebourne to thank me for my role in her pregnancy.” She pointed toward Mendoza. “Like she did with the other donor. I'd never met her until that day, nor did I know she had chosen me. But …”

Mr. Brewer waited for her to finish the sentence, moving to the rail to encourage her.

“But it rained. On June twenty-fourth. Because of the flood, she couldn't leave, and stayed with me for a few days. We became friends, and when she got sick, Ian — my husband, but we were courting at the time — helped me take her to the hospital. After she'd been there a while, she asked me if I would consent to be the guardian for her son.”

Judge O'Dell lowered his glasses from his nose and let out a low chuckle. He lifted up the stack of papers on his desk and slid them into a brown leather pouch.

Laura Ann looked at the judge, then continued. “Ms. McQuistion passed away due to heart complications,” she said, biting her lip as she struggled with the words. “And her baby — James — was born premature about an hour before she died. I waited for him to be released, and met with a lactation consultant to help me nurse the child. That about summarizes it.”

“One more question, Laura Ann,” Mr. Brewer said, his hand
resting on the rail of the witness stand. “Was anyone else, other someone at the fertility clinic, aware of your egg donation at the time Ms. McQuistion would have become pregnant?”

Laura Ann shook her head. “No. I told no one.”

“Thank you.” He turned to the judge. “No more questions, Your Honor.”

The judge faced Mr. Whitt, sweat beading on the attorney's brow. “Cross examine?”

Whitt shook his head, fumbling with some papers. Mr. Mendoza uttered an expletive, pushing back from the table, and some more words Laura Ann could not hear when he moved closer to his attorney.

“You may step down, Mrs. Stewart. Mr. Mendoza, another outburst like that and I'll hold you in contempt as well.”

As Laura Ann made her way to the table aside Ian, Mr. Brewer approached the bench. “Your Honor, the defense wishes to call our last witness.” He handed a package and briefing sheet to the judge, who shared a copy with the clerk. He handed a separate copy to Mr. Whitt. “Ms. Maggie Clark, erstwhile of the Morgantown Fertility Clinic.”

Mendoza's attorney threw his hands up, blurting out his question again. “Relevance?”

Judge O'Dell looked back at Mr. Brewer for an answer.

“Your Honor, we will establish the extraordinary personal sacrifice of my client in her role as donor and biological mother for the child.”

“Proceed.”

A few gasps arose about the courtroom when a woman stood in the audience and walked out of the gallery toward the witness stand. Laura Ann lowered her head a bit, then raised her chin, determined to endure this. For James. And for Sophia.

“Please state your name and city of residence,” Mr. Brewer said, once she'd been sworn in.

“Maggie Clark, of Morgantown, West Virginia.”

“Ms. Clark, are you married?” “I am not.”

“And your employer in November of last year?”

“I was a nurse serving as a reproductive specialist and nurse anesthetist at the Morgantown Fertility Clinic, on the staff of Dr. Alexandros Katinakis.”

“Thank you. Have you met Mrs. Stewart before?” he asked, motioning to Laura Ann.

“I have. She was single then. I served as the attending nurse at three of her harvesting sessions.”

Laura Ann winced at the term, but kept her back straight. Ian put his hand on her forearm, a squeeze of affirmation. They would endure this together.

“Is Mrs. Stewart the mother of James McGehee McQuistion, based on the records as you knew them at the time?”

“She is. The clinic has been closed, however. I do not have the donor records in my possession.”

“Objection!” Mr. Whitt exclaimed, standing up.

“Sustained.”

“Alright. Let's explore another line of questioning, Ms. Clark. Do you have any children?”

“I do. I was infertile for many years before my divorce, but successfully carried a daughter to term as a result of in vitro fertilization. Dr. Katinakis was my physician.”

“Relevance?” Mr. Whitt said, bounding up.

“Continue,” the judge said, waving him on.

“And did you select the biological mother for your pregnancy?”

“I did.” She looked in Laura Ann's direction. “I chose Mrs. Stewart. Her name then was McGehee.”

Gasps arose around the court gallery, another two or three people peeking into the court, then taking a seat near the back.

Laura Ann's shivers ran from her spine to the tips of her

fingers, a shaking she could barely quell. She'd heard this pronouncement before. But Maggie's words cut just as deep now as they did last night when Mr. Brewer introduced her over dinner.

I have a daughter.

Ian's hand gripped her tight, his assurance so steady, so firm. She clung to her husband, her rock. Surely this revelation pierced him to the core … yet he never flinched. More people slipped into the courtroom amid loud murmurs.

“Order,” Judge O'Dell said.

“Why did you choose Mrs. Stewart? I mean, Miss McGehee?”

“She was attractive, relatively tall, and physically fit. Her IQ test scores were high, and she seemed so stable and strong. She told us her story, about how she was donating her eggs to raise money to help her father. It made me cry.”

“And Ms. Clark, can you tell us why you left the employment of the Morgantown Fertility Clinic, prior to their losing their license?”

“I can.” She straightened up, taking a deep breath. “I learned that two of our donors died — our patients. For various reasons, but neither of them during the performance of our care.”

Laura Ann looked down in her lap, shaking her head. Ian put his arm around her. Mr. Brewer let the courtroom quiet a bit, then continued.

“Some of your donors died?”

“Yes. One girl suffered seizures as a result of the surgery soon after her third harvest. She moved away after the second trip to our clinic, and we asked her to fly back to Morgantown for a third donation. She came. But I learned later,” Maggie said, her chin quivering, “that she passed away soon after. We heard it was natural causes. But I discovered, through her family, that she'd suffered a stroke.” She coughed, and continued. “There was strong evidence that her drug regimen, to induce the hyperstimulation of her ovaries, may have been responsible when
acting in combination with a tumor she had, but did not know about. A second client passed away from internal complications after commencing a Pergonal drug regimen, also to stimulate her ovaries.”

“Objection,” Mr. Whitt said. “Circumstantial evidence. We're not trying Dr. Katinakis here, or fertility treatments.”

“Agreed,” the judge said. “Mr. Brewer?”

“Ms. Clark, as a reproductive specialist and attending nurse, please summarize for the court the procedure and the medical complications that you presented to each egg donor before her, as you say, ovary harvesting event.”

“The egg harvest is accomplished using one of two methods. An ultrasound-guided aspiration is a minor surgical procedure done under intravenous analgesia—sedation for pain control. An ultrasound probe is inserted through the vagina to image the swollen follicles of the patient's ovaries. A needle is guided through the walls of the vagina into the follicle and the ripened egg is suctioned out. In some rare cases — and this happened for Mrs. Stewart's first harvest — we have to guide the needle though the patient's abdominal wall, or through her bladder. In more severe cases, we use general anesthesia and laparoscopic surgery through an incision below the patient's navel.”

“And Mrs. Stewart's harvests?”

“All of them were of the first type, sir. Intravaginal ultrasound, in two of my three sessions with her, with no penetration of the abdomen except the first time.”

“What kind of impact does that procedure have on the woman?” Mr. Brewer asked.

“Nausea, bleeding, cramping, mild weight gain, and diarrhea are not unusual,” she said, looking back at Laura Ann. “I know that Mrs. Stewart experienced some of these symptoms because we spoke about it. Those were the usual complications that we mentioned in the safety briefing.”

“Is that all?”

“No. Bloating, swelling, and distended abdomens are common for some women. More serious complications include Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, or OHSS, as an aftermath of the drug regimen used to stimulate egg release. The ovaries become dangerously enlarged with fluid and can leak into the abdomen, with serious complications.”

“Have you witnessed this in your patients?”

“Yes, sir. In some.”

“Other problems?”

“Some women — we think it's a small percentage — have experienced significant scarring of the ovaries as a result of the harvesting events, particularly if they have provided more than one donation. In extreme cases, infertility can result due to damage to the ovary. Some medical studies report an increased probability of ovarian cancer, as well as suspected ties to breast and uterine cancers. These effects are still under evaluation, of course. Unfortunately, there's a tendency in this industry to publish only positive findings, and — “

“And?”

“Well, it's new and fast-moving technology, and there's not a very good way yet to follow up on the long-term health impacts of the drug regimens or harvesting events. A girl might donate today, but a year from now, or five years from now, she moves on to a new town, and finds she's infertile, or has cancer. We don't always make the connection.”

“I'd like you to examine this issue from another angle, Ms. Clark. Can you share with us, from a clinical perspective, what are the impacts of egg or sperm donation on the person who is formed as a result of these donated gametes?”

Maggie took a deep breath, wiping her hand in a quick pass across a glistening cheek. She sat bolt upright, stronger than Laura Ann thought possible were she in her shoes. “The studies are still

formative. Nevertheless, clinical evidence shows that donor offspring are twice as likely to be in trouble with the law before age twenty-five, and one and a half times more likely to develop identity crises, depression, even mental illness. Why? Perhaps it's a result of their concerns about their—how do I say this?—complicated origins. What some mistakenly call a ‘freak of nature' or ‘a lab experiment.' Then again, perhaps it's a lack of grounding in family roots, or some angst about why the parent
paid
to buy the sperm or eggs to create them. I've heard the story, from more than one client, of donor offspring who asked their surrogate mother, ‘Did you buy me?' “

“Why then, in your opinion, would Ms. McQuistion seek out Mr. Mendoza and Mrs. Stewart?”

“Objection! Conjecture, Your Honor.”

“I'll allow it. Go ahead, Ms. Clark.”

She nodded at the judge, took another deep breath, and continued. “For the same reason I sought her out when I learned about this lawsuit from some coworkers I knew at the clinic. To tell my daughter more about the wonderful woman who sacrificed so much to make her life possible. To give my baby girl those roots. That's why I chose her eggs in the first place, and it's why I agreed to come here today — and that's not conjecture. It's my story.” She stared long at Mr. Whitt, then turned her attention back to Mr. Brewer.

“Do you continue to work as a reproductive specialist, Ms. Clark?”

“I do not.” She pursed her lips, then continued. “The more I learned, the less I liked it.”

“And Ms. Clark, based on your prior experience as a nurse in this industry, if your daughter were of age to make an egg donation for altruistic purposes — or for money—would you recommend it?”

Maggie wagged her head, a deep frown gathering as she expelled two words with force. “Absolutely not.”

“Thank you. One more question. For the sperm donor, what are the medical side effects of a man donating a sample?”

She chuckled, looking around the room, then to the judge, a bit red-faced. “Side effects? I mean, none that I know of. The donors are provided a room with some — some pornographic movies and magazines, you know? And a sample cup. But side effects?” She shrugged.

“Did Mr. Mendoza provide samples at your clinic?” he asked, pointing toward the desk with Mr. Whitt.

Maggie nodded. “Yes. He was a frequent client.” She smiled, then added, “He never complained.”