High Hopes, Lost Chance

By Jessica D. Matthews TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER 06/17/2002 Wendy and Mike Cummings lived to give life when that was no longer possible they went to the ends of the earth searching for it. Their extraordinary quest for a family turns to a wild ride on an emotional roller coaster. Heartache grows with the emptiness in the second of this four-part series. The ringing phone ripped through Wendy Cummings' silent bliss. It was hard not to get excited when she heard the nurse's voice on the other end. She promised Mike, her husband, that she would wait until the doctor confirmed their pregnancy before she began planning their new role as parents. After all, the frozen egg fertilization procedure used to help the couple conceive a child was experimental and the odds of getting pregnant from it were slim. Still, it was an impossible promise to keep. She was excited. They had waited so long for a child. Since the Scranton couple learned that Wendy had polycystic ovarian syndrome, they had been to so many doctors, through so many tests, so many infertility treatments over the past five years. And now, a little more than a week after Christmas 1999 and Wendy's 33rd birthday, she was about to find out if the two embryos implanted in her uterus were twins growing inside her. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cummings," the voice on the phone said quietly. "You're not pregnant." It would be almost another year before the couple received the same shattering news after their second attempt with frozen egg fertilization. This time, the nurse, too, was crying as she told the couple they had lost a second set of twins. "But things looked more hopeful this second time," cried Wendy. "I felt queasy in the mornings. Maybe it was just my mind making me think I had all the symptoms of being pregnant. I would rub my stomach and sing 'You are my sunshine' to them." Wendy had told her math students at Old Forge Junior-Senior High School about the couple's second attempt with frozen egg fertilization. She had little choice but to share what they were going through. Her students suspected she was dying of cancer because of her many doctor appointments and emotional turmoil. "I didn't want them to worry like that and I couldn't lie to them," Wendy says. Her students had fast become like family. They grieved with her when she told them that the couple lost their second set of twins. Weeks later, their flowers and condolence cards would still come. Mike had told some co-workers at the Lackawanna County Stadium where he worked as the director of public relations for the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Red Barons. They also mourned for the couple's loss. Both their families -- Mike's parents, Dorothy and James Cummings, and Wendy's parents, Sylvia and Leonard Zubrickas -- did their best to console. "You can't describe the heartbreak you feel as a parent when you see your kids go through this kind of hurt," says Mrs. Cummings. "They're both good kids." The loss grew harder for Wendy to accept. "I would come home and she would be bawling hysterically," says Mike. "I couldn't console her. I didn't know the right things to say." The couple would turn down invitations to baby showers and avoid walking near the baby aisles in stores. "It was too painful," Wendy says. "I couldn't look at the baby stuff." They talked about their options. Despite the heartbreaks and pain, they were not about to give up their dream to have a family. Wendy's doctors believed the couple could still conceive a child if she had surgery to dislodge her left ovary. Then try in vitro fertilization. The ovary was stuck behind her uterus, making in vitro fertilization too risky. "I just can't do it right now," Wendy decided, "not after the last loss." Then there was adoption. "I always thought I couldn't adopt," says Wendy. "I wanted to know what it was like to be pregnant. I wanted to experience everything a pregnant woman experiences. I didn't want to be shortchanged." But something clicked. "I want to be a mom," she says. "Being a mom is much more than just being pregnant." The couple researched different types of adoptions -- private, agency, domestic, international. They decided a private domestic adoption would be best for them. Wendy wanted the baby to be as young as possible. Often adoption agencies will place the baby in foster care and make the adopted parents wait several months before getting the infant. The infants up for adoption internationally are often eight months to several years old. "Bonding is very important to me," Wendy says. "I don't want to miss out on the mother-child bonding." Private adoptions are also quicker and cheaper, adds Mike. The couple had already spent more than $18,000 on infertility medications and surgeries. They expected an adoption to cost about $10,000 to $15,000. If needed, they were prepared to mortgage their home to finish their dream. On Oct. 9, 2000, they met with Barbara Casey, an adoption attorney in Reading. She explained how adoption laws vary state by state. In Pennsylvania, the birth parents cannot give consent for the adoption until 72 hours after the child's birth, she told the couple. In some other states, consent can be given immediately after birth. The laws also vary in the types of expenses adopted parents can pay the birth parents, she said. In Pennsylvania, those costs include medical and hospital expenses, as well as adjustment counseling. Other states allow adopted parents to pay for necessities the birth mother has as a result of her pregnancy -- which can make the adoption more costly. For her $1,500 fee plus advertising expenses, Mrs. Casey would place ads in a national newspaper and freebie papers in states with adoption-friendly laws. Once the couple found a birth mother, they would give her a $5,000 retainer to handle the legal side of the adoption. She warned them that a private adoption can take six months to two years. Wendy and Mike prayed theirs would not take long. Over the next few months, the couple had filled out the lawyer's adoption applications and put together a collection of required paperwork. It included financial records, medical records, reference letters from friends and employers, a home study by a social worker, their birth certificates and marriage license, criminal record check forms and a Pennsylvania Child Abuse History Clearance. They also put together a profile about themselves to be mailed to birth mothers interested in adoption. Mrs. Casey suggested the Cummings network to get the word out that they were looking to adopt. Put a note in with your bills, put posters up on bulletin boards at the supermarket, make a Web site, she told the couple. "Networking is very important," says Wendy. "You never know who might know someone with a baby to give away. We made a Web site and registered it in all the search engines." The Web site told of the couple's struggle to conceive a child and of their dream now to adopt one. There were photographs of them, their families, their Scranton home and their husky-lab, Molly. It also included their toll-free number and e-mail address -- both set up specifically for birth mothers to contact them. Responses started to come in from the ads placed in newspapers by their adoption attorney. She sent them e-mails with descriptions of the birth mothers and children up for adoption. "Jennifer -- full Caucasian -- due in February. She is in Alabama. She will need living expenses. Birth father will cooperate." "Biracial boy due January in Houston, TX...Needs approx $850 per month living expenses, Medicaid eligible..." Other e-mails told of young girls raped by relatives and now pregnant, birth mothers with histories of hereditary diseases and pregnant women with HIV-infected or alcohol-addicted babies. Because of Scranton's homogenous racial makeup -- 93.6 percent Caucasian, according to the 2000 census -- the couple had decided to search for a Caucasian baby. They also wanted a healthy one. "We just don't think it would be fair to raise a black or biracial baby here," Mike says. "The kid would have a hard time growing up here. As unfortunate as it is, that's how it is here." For those leads that did seem ideal to the couple, they mailed off their profile in eager anticipation that this could be the one. More often than not, they would never hear back from the birth mother. Later, they learned their attorney e-mailed the same leads to all her clients. Wendy's students wanted regular updates on the couple's search for a baby. "They said prayers for us," Wendy says. "They were very supportive." Then one day after class, shortly before school was to break for the Christmas holidays, a student approached Wendy with a proposition. "Mrs. Cummings, my sister is pregnant and wants to give you her baby," the girl said. "I told her all about you and your husband." Wendy's heart stopped. She gave the student their toll-free number -- fondly called the babyline by the couple -- and asked her to have her sister call. Wendy scrambled to call Mike at work. "You're not going to believe this," she said excitedly. Mike told her not to get her hopes up. After all, it was a student. Nothing would probably come of it. Months later, the babyline rang. "Hi, I'm pregnant and really want to give my baby to you and your husband," said the young, trembling voice to Wendy. "I've never done this before. I'm nervous." Wendy's heart was beating fast. It was her student's sister. Mike watched anxiously, his stomach in knots, as Wendy scribbled down notes about the 25-year-old girl and her pregnancy -- due end of April; will get prenatal care; can't afford another baby; already has a 2-year-old son. The conversation would last 40 minutes. Wendy was shaking when she hung up the phone. "I actually feel like I'm pregnant," she told Mike. Over the next few weeks, Wendy would talk to the girl several times, learning more about her dilemma. "Her boyfriend doesn't pay child support now on their son," Wendy told Mike after another phone conversation with the girl. "He doesn't even visit his son when he's supposed to. She doesn't think her boyfriend will object to giving this baby up for adoption." The couple called Mrs. Casey, who sent the girl adoption consent forms and paperwork that asked about her medical history. The girl's boyfriend also needed to give his consent to give up the baby for adoption. Wendy talked regularly with the girl. She also spoke with the girl's mother, who was very supportive of her daughter's decision to give the baby to the couple. When Wendy could not reach the girl for days at a time, she panicked. "What if she changed her mind?" she asked Mike. "Why isn't she answering the phone?" There was always a logical excuse -- she had work or was ill. The phone conversations with the girl gave Wendy some much-needed hope. "I can walk in baby departments," she says. "It's still hard to look at couples with a baby. I wonder why that can't be us." She began planning for the things she would need once they adopted the baby. The guest room would have to be redecorated for a nursery. If it's a boy, a baseball and Snoopy theme. If it's a girl, all pink. They would need to buy a car seat to take the baby home from the hospital. Not to mention formula, bottles, diapers, a stroller and clothing. Maybe a minivan too, she thought. Mike tried to be the practical one. The girl still hadn't filled out the papers their lawyer had sent to get the adoption started. Her boyfriend had yet to give his consent. Once the couple learned that the girl had called their attorney with questions about the forms, Mike grew more excited. "I want to know the sex of the baby," he told Wendy. He was counting down the days until she was due to give birth. As thrilled as Wendy was that they were going to adopt this baby, she still had fears. "I'm afraid to know," she told Mike. "It might make it harder if something goes wrong." Still, she had hunches, and dreams that woke her up from sound sleep. This baby was a girl. Their daughter -- Elizabeth Ona. The girl thought so too. Her boyfriend had finally called their lawyer and gave his consent. "I don't think she'll go through it," he warned the lawyer. The girl, and her mother, assured the couple that the adoption would take place. "When I make up my mind to do something, that's it," the girl told Wendy. "I made up my mind. I will do this." Wendy told the girl that she and Mike wanted to pay for any counseling she might need after the adoption. She declined the offer. At her mother's suggestion, she asked if Wendy wanted to be in the delivery room for the birth. "I'm not a blood and guts person," she told Mike, after telling him about the invitation. "I watched a natural childbirth film and passed out...I'll have to think about it." Mike wanted to cut the umbilical cord. Wendy made plans to take a maternity leave. The couple decided she would take a year to raise their baby. They purchased parenting books and planned to interview pediatricians. They talked about how they would get in contact with each other when the girl or her mother called to them she was in labor. They decided Wendy would be in the delivery for the birth. No minute detail was overlooked as they planned for parenthood. "I have to remember to charge the camera batteries so we can bring it to the hospital," Mike said. Wendy made her first nonessential purchase for their child -- a book of bedtime stories. "I couldn't resist," she said to Mike. Her blue eyes sparkled as she leafed through the pages. The couple had agreed not to make any purchases for the baby -- except for essentials -- until they had their infant in their home. "All right, all right," Mike said, laughing. "But that's it." As the end of April approached, the couple was walking on eggshells. They hadn't heard from the girl in two weeks. "Don't let her forget to call us," Wendy prayed. "So much depends on her calling us when she goes into labor." Wendy finally reached the girl's mother that Saturday, April 21. "Relax," she told Wendy, "she still wants to give you her baby." Two days later -- the same Monday her students would throw her a baby shower -- Wendy learned from another teacher that the girl had given birth -- a 5-pound boy. Her water had broken at her mother's house, just hours before Wendy's phone conversation with the girl's mother. The girl would never call the couple again. Later that day, they learned from their lawyer that she changed her mind. Months later, they learned her real intention. To be continued... Look for part three of staff writer JESSICA D. MATTHEWS' series, The Making of a Family, in Tuesday's editions of The Tribune and The Scranton Times. ©Scranton Times Tribune 2002 Reader Opinions    Name: Lisa Date: Jun, 18 2002 Hey guys you should not be talkin like that. This story is not crap. You two obviously have no heart, no care, no feelings. Wendy was my math teacher at Old Forge and she has had it rough ok. You have no reason to sit here and say this story is crap but it is not. It is a very emotional and touching story. Put your feet in their shoes and see what is it like, how it hurts, how much pain there is. Grow up please.      Name: Gusty Date: Jun, 18 2002 These comments have nothing to do with the article. If you have some problem, it should be directed towards the editors in an editorial and not polluting excellent writing and solid research. Back to top  NEXT PAGE  Questions or comments? Contact Us Click here for home delivery of The Times-Tribune Read our Privacy Policy News | Sports | Obits | Opinion | Business Delivery problems | Place an ad | Letters to the editor Copyright © 1995 - 2002 PowerOne Media, Inc. All Rights Reserved.