Before Your Next “Well Baby” Visit, Read This

My Promise to My son Zachy — He never stood a chance.

A Mother’s Story, A Warning, A Prayer.

I was 8½ months old in the photo at the top of this post — tiny toes, that baby smell, that look he gave me that said, “I love you.” I took so many pictures and videos of Baby Zachy back then and sent every one of them to his dad in Afghanistan. At the time I thought I was sending them so he wouldn’t miss anything. I didn’t know it then, but those photos were really for me — a gift to my future self of the boy I once held.

It took me 4½ years to see clearly. For years I lived in a fog of trust — trust in doctors, trust in the system, trust that “well baby” visits were safe. I now understand that what happened to my beautiful son was not an accident. Over the course of those early years he changed slowly, quietly, and then dramatically. The little boy who smiled and babbled was gone, replaced by a child who could no longer speak the way he used to, who suffered seizures, who developed severe OCD behaviors and profound developmental delays. He lost so much: his voice, his independence, his future.

I carry guilt every single day. I took him to those appointments. I signed the forms. No one told me — not in a way I could understand then — about the terrible outcomes that would follow. Even now, years later, the medical professionals I trusted still deny what our family lived through and gaslight me when I try to tell the truth about Zachy’s life. Imagine waiting and praying for a child for twenty years, finally holding that child in your arms, and then watching the life you dreamed for him taken away.

This is my reality: a mother who promised her son she would be his voice when he could no longer speak for himself. I made a vow to Zachy that I would tell his story — not to shame, not for attention, but to warn others, to spare another parent the grief that lives inside me every day. I do this because I love him, because I owe him the truth, and because I cannot let his suffering be invisible.

If my story reaches even one parent, grandparent, or caregiver and makes them ask questions, seek second opinions, or look deeper into the choices they make for their children, then Zachy’s life — and my pain — will have had a purpose. I don’t want another baby, child, or pet to suffer the way Zachy did. I will keep speaking. I will keep sharing his pictures. I will keep fighting so his story is known.

“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.”

Hosea 4:6

If you’ve been through something similar and want to share, or if you want to know more about our journey, please reach out. Share this post if you feel led. Thank you for listening, for praying, and for standing with us.

Teena ReNay Ferguson-Plona

Please leave this field empty

Subscribe Now for More Truth!

Enter your email to subscribe

I don’t spam! Read my privacy policy

Check your inbox or spam folder to confirm your subscription.