A Donor Story

At work, as I sit at the Information Desk at Mercy Hospital in Buffalo, New York, young, pregnant mothers walk by on their way to doctors’ appointments. I see excitement, hope and joy in their eyes, and of course, I see hints of worry and anxiety, too.

I wonder how many of these moms have ever heard of hemolytic disease of the newborn, and of those who have, I wonder how many realize what this disease meant for moms like me. Back then, thousands of babies in the United Stated died from this medical condition each and every year. Back then, no one knew what caused these heart-breaking deaths. They simply called them “blue babies,” the blue, of course, referring to the color of the skin of these poor children. Today, you rarely hear about these deaths because they rarely occur.

My name is Marilyn McCarthy and I have been a blood donor – specifically, a plasma donor – for 24 years. Plasma from my blood, and from the blood of other donors, is used to produce RhoGAM – a unique medicine that prevents hemolytic disease of the newborn. Twice a week, my husband drives me 16 miles from our home to a lab located in Williamsville, New York. There, I donate my plasma; the process takes an hour and a half. Here is why I do it, and why RhoGAM is so important to me.

I always wanted a large family. After delivering two healthy sons, I became pregnant for the third time. It was 1959. While the baby was due on Christmas Eve, December 24th, I went into labor early and delivered on December 8th.

I remember lying in bed, coming out of the effects of the anesthesia. I can still remember hearing my family doctor talking to my husband, Paul. When they realized I was awake, our doctor gave me the sad news that our baby boy, Timothy, was stillborn. No reason was known for exactly what had happened. There was no baby to bring home to his brothers.

Because there was no reason to believe that this would ever happen again, I became pregnant again in 1961. Sadly, history repeated itself and in my ninth month I awoke in the hospital to hear the same sad news: my baby boy was stillborn. Again, no reason was given. His name was Vincent.

Two years later, still determined to have another child, I was pregnant again. I didn’t feel the baby move toward the end of my pregnancy. At that time they took x-rays and told me everything was OK. It wasn’t, however. Within a week or two, I gave birth to another stillborn baby. We named him Dennis.

It’s not the same when you leave the hospital carrying flowers instead of proudly carrying your tiny newborn. Or upon leaving the hospital, taking a trip immediately to the cemetery to see where they buried your baby.

My family doctor had delivered all my babies. Back then this was very normal for general practitioners. I decided to go to a specialist and then finally learned why I had lost my three babies. We were very fortunate my second child was not affected.

The cause was hemolytic disease of the newborn, in which antibodies form in the mother’s immune system and destroy the Rh-positive cells of the baby, resulting in severe illness or death. If the baby does live, there is the possibility of severe anemia, enlarged liver, respiratory distress or cardiac failure.

Up to that time, the only treatment was an exchange transfusion immediately after birth, which often was too late. In an exchange transfusion, as much as 75 percent of the infant’s blood is replaced by healthy blood.

I later had another child, a daughter named Anne, who survived thanks to a total of eight transfusions, including several then-experimental intrauterine transfusions. But I also suffered the loss of yet another child – a child born after Anne – who despite numerous transfusions, lived only a few hours after birth. The addition of three adopted children gave us the large family we had always wanted.

It is truly a miracle to me that expectant mothers today don’t have to go through what I did. At first, the only hope for Rh babies was the possibility of an exchange transfusion after birth, often too late. Next came intrauterine transfusions that I experienced. And now, for more than 30 years, we have the miracle of RhoGAM saving little lives every day.

At work, young, pregnant moms stroll by the Information Desk at Mercy Hospital. No matter how large their bellies are, they tend to walk at a crisp pace. There is more hope in their eyes than worry. I’m sure few of these soon-to-be moms, or experienced mothers, have ever heard of “blue babies.” Many will receive shots of RhoGAM; few will experience what I did in my life. And for that, I am thankful. With each pregnant mom who strolls by, I wonder if maybe the shot that saves her baby is because of me, or the donor sitting next to me at the lab.