October 28th, 2014 was a Tuesday. I was 20 weeks and 6 days pregnant. And it was the day we found out Brody had dwarfism. This was the beginning of a long fearful and lonely road as we opted out of an amniocentesis and were faced with waiting another 20 weeks to know what type of dwarfism Brody would have. We were told a wide range of possibilities, from achondroplasia, to an atypical form of osteogenesis imperfecta, to perhaps a lethal form of OI. Even amongst parents of little people we had communicated with, finding out at 20 weeks was pretty early to get this diagnosis. While many friends and co-workers were also expecting the same time we were, I found myself increasingly bitter at the complaints I would overhear, such as migraines, swelling, and morning sickness. I was dealing with those things too, but also hoping and praying for my baby's health and survival. It's an experience I wouldn't wish on anyone, and its one you couldn't understand unless you have walked that path yourself.
A couple months after our initial diagnosis, I was on the Parents of Little People page on Facebook, and found myself reading a story that hit close to home. Another couple was writing, as they had found out they were also expecting a little boy with dwarfism. They too found at 20 weeks. We were soon in contact, and I found an immediate connection with Erica. Someone who was experiencing the same thing, at the same time! To say the support I found her in over the next few months was appreciated is an understatement. And while we were in similar situations, Erica had been told her baby most likely had a lethal form of dwarfism called Thanatophoric dysplasia.
Despite the grim prognosis, they remained hopeful and optimistic. They too initially opted out of an amniocentesis, and continued their pregnancy hoping and praying for the best. Erica developed polyhydramnios, like I did, which is very common in babies with skeletal dysplasia (dwarfism). Not only is it very painful, but can be detrimental to the baby's health, and requires close monitoring. Her amniotic fluid continued to rise, and an amniocentesis was needed to delay premature birth. As the benefits now outweighed the risks, they proceeded with genetic testing on the amniotic fluid removed during the procedure. We were devastated for them when the results came back confirming Thanatophoric dysplasia. Erica endured multiple other amniocenteses to postpone an early delivery and to give Lincoln the best possible chance for lung development by staying in utero as long as he could.
On August 26th, 2015, Lincoln Matthew Sahm was born. He lived 10 hours and was surrounded by loving family. While Lincoln's earthly life was far too short, we have so much to celebrate. We rejoice in the fact that no matter how many odds were stacked against him, his parents chose life! They embraced and loved Lincoln, no matter his diagnosis. In an age were life seems to be so disposable, abortion is almost an expectation if there is something out of the ordinary with a pregnancy. And through all their heartache, they chose to share their journey. Because of their bravery in sharing their story, hundreds (if not thousands) of people have learned of Lincoln. Talk about a legacy! Lincoln's journey also reminds us of so many things. For one, none of us are guaranteed a certain amount of time. All of our lives are finite. What legacy will you leave behind? Secondly, don't take your health for granted. If you are fortunate enough to be able bodied and healthy, use it to the best of your ability! Lincoln's story also reminds us that while every pregnancy is the beginning of a new life, it may not be the experience you had. Before complaining about temporary inconveniences of pregnancy, keep in mind someone else may be fighting for their child's life, or their own. It will put things in perspective quickly. Lastly, if you see someone who may be different than you, don't be so quick to judge, and don't pity them. Realize that our similarities far outweigh our differences. As our buddy Mr. Grant has said, "Go up and say hello. That person may just be your new best friend!" If you see a little person, realize they are just like you and me, just small. And please, don't use the "M" word.
There's so much more to their journey and Lincoln's story we can't possibly begin to know or comprehend. We hope this short bit we have shared does them justice. But what we do know is that by sharing his story, we are honoring his life. So please, share his story, and keep his memory alive. Be a little kinder to one another, and remember "a person's a person, no matter how small."
