Microcephaly (22 weeks + 1 day)

I had never heard of the term Microcephaly before we had our first ultrasound scan at 21 weeks and it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the term became embedded into my psyche. Around the  time we were dealing with the news that our unborn child’s brain was not developing as expected, the media was reporting on the Zika virus affecting South America and a few weeks later, the news that it was the cause of Microcephaly in babies of mothers who had the virus. When I first googled the term, I was able to get a basic explanation and a few pictures but as soon as the Zika story hit the press, there was more detailed information, images of babies with extremely small heads and stories of the mothers of these children. At first I saw some hope as I thought if these babies can make it, why can’t mine? But as I read further I realised that in the more positive cases, the mums were infected when their babies had already undergone some of the crucial growth in early pregnancy.

I was fortunate enough to have two fetal MRI scans when I was pregnant to help us build a picture of Aiya’s condition. Had I stated at the outset that I wanted to keep her, I don’t believe we would have been given this privilege. On sound advice, I told the doctors I was unsure of continuing the pregnancy so that we could get as much information as possible on what the prognosis would be.

My first fetal MRI was at 22 weeks + 1 day and I must have found the whole process soothing as I was asleep for most of the 45 minute scan. The MRI machine is like a cocoon and I was placed all the way in with my head barely out of the machine, given ear defenders to muffle the loud rhythmic clanging and asked to lie very still. It had been a couple a stressful weeks and given I was put into a box which shut me off from the outside world and no room for my own thoughts with all the noise, it was bizarrely the best sleep I’d had in a while. I only woke up on hearing the radiologist’s voice through the head phones saying we were done and someone would come get me.

Because the outcome our original consultant had predicted was so dire, she asked for a second opinion from a hospital with better scanning equipment. The conclusion from the MRI corroborated the view of the second consultant who had given us an ultrasound. It was at this stage we were told the legal time limit for ending the pregnancy did not apply due to the severity of the baby’s condition and that the most likely way of ascertaining the cause of the Microcephaly would be on post mortem.

The fetal MRI showed us spaces within the skull where the brain had not grown into due to delayed brain maturation, small cerebral hemispheres and cerebellum and the absence of a corpus callosum.

The corpus callosum allows communication between the two hemispheres of the brain and is responsible for basic human functions. This is why the two consultants had concluded it was highly likely that if she survived, my baby would not have the brain capacity to breathe on her own, let alone do anything more than that. She’s a living example of how little we know about the brain and what it can do to compensate when areas are missing or damaged. In theory, Aiya should not be able to pass an object from one hand to another but her brain has somehow put that connection together. Someone explained the brain connections to me as similar to electrical wiring and rather than Aiya’s brain making a straight connection across from one side to the other, it has figured out an alternative path which isn’t as efficient hence her slow response.

I’m no neurologist so I won’t attempt to explain her brain development any further. All I know is my little girl is doing so much more than was ever expected of her and I keep hoping and praying that her determination is going to continue to help her build those synaptic connections that are helping her interact with the world around her.