The Story of Gabriel

The holiday season is finally here and it's by far one of the toughest times in my life, it's overwhelming. I get lost in, what could have been, should have been, and saddened by the Christmas memories I didn't have a chance to make. I don't talk about it much, but I am a parent of an angel baby.

Gabriel's back story

It was 2011, that I was given the best news of my life, that I was pregnant after being told that it would be difficult for me to become pregnant. I was so ecstatic when I found out the news. It felt better than winning the lottery. Since I only lived a block away from my doctors, I walked there and speed-walked back. I remember texting my husband on the way home about the big news, he was watching my step daughter at the time and was overwhelmed with emotion.

The day that my ultrasound rolled around I was excited to see this baby that was growing inside of me. I couldn't wait to see this life form, that I thought would eventually be calling me mom, this little baby who needed me and was a miracle.

At the ultrasound, I remember leaving without an ultrasound photo. Part of me was confused to why I didn't get one, but then I thought maybe there was a different time that they did that or maybe the doctor was supposed to give me the photo at a later date. I didn't know how all of these pregnancy ultrasounds were. I was used to the kind of ultrasounds I'd get for cysts, not to see a baby.

There was for sure a baby growing in me. We weren't exactly sure what we were going to name this baby. All I knew was that it needed a strong name, and a name that meant something to me. We had time we had many weeks to go anyway.

About a week after the ultrasound, I got a phone call from my doctor, who explained to me to come in with my husband. It was important that he came with me to this appointment. If there was a time that I was confused it would have been then. I must've had a million little question marks above my head. 

I went to the appointment at the doctor's office, she told us to come to sit down by her computer with her so she could show us the ultrasounds. It made a little sense to me, maybe the doctor wanted to talk about my baby before giving me the ultrasound photos. 

Gabriel

My doctor pointed to the baby's head and mentioned that there was something wrong with it. There was a black spot where the top of his skull was supposed to be. She wasn't sure if it was how the baby was laying or if he had a fatal birth defect known as anencephaly. She let us know that she had referred us to the high-risk doctor to get their opinion.

Luckily I didn't have a chance to think about the high-risk doctor's appointment much, because it was the day after I saw the doctor about the ultrasound results.

The one thing that's tough about being at a high-risk doctor's office, is looking around at all the worried faces, knowing that these parents, maybe given news that's as bad as mine is. You didn't need to hear their story to know that they were in pain, you could just sense it.

I had a million and one questions thrown at me, along with blood work and a blood sugar check even before I went into the cold, clinical ultrasound room. There was the ultrasound machine, and then there was a projector that showed what was on the ultrasound close up.

Like every parent, my husband and I were hoping that it was the way that this baby was laying that made it look like it was missing part of its skull. But unfortunately, our fears were realized that our baby did have anencephaly. Anencephaly is a neural tube disorder that happens when the head end of the neural tube doesn't close. When the neural tube doesn't close, it means there's nothing protecting the brain of the baby.

The doctor explained to us that there were a few options that we had. But the end result was going to be the same either way, that our baby had an illness that was not compatible with life. The options we were given stuck in me like a knife, I could induce or end the pregnancy early or go full term and if this baby did make it past birth I would get to watch it pass away from respiratory distress.

We were set up for an appointment with my OB a few days later so that we could talk about what we planned on doing and so she could answer any questions because the high-risk doctors can be confusing sometimes.

I wished I didn't talk about my plans to people online, because I felt guilt-tripped about my choice. But my choice was my own, and they weren't there in the room when the doctor poked and prodded my baby in my womb, they weren't in my shoes at all.

The choice my husband and I chose was to induce at 15 weeks. I was going to go through labor just like a full-term mother, all except for the pain medication. The doctor opted to give me a pain pump through the labor process because the baby wouldn't be alive anyway.

On August 10, 2011, only 6 days before my birthday I was checked into the local hospital, which is literally right next door to me, to be induced. Waiting in the lobby of the hospital I became numb, sitting in the delivery room, I was number, I could hear women all around me. I hated the feeling that they'd get to bring their baby home and here I was to be induced and I was going to leave the hospital empty-handed. 

I hardly remember progressing during the labor process, but I do remember waking up at 5 in the morning to my water breaking and feeling like I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I walked to the bathroom after the nurse came into the room, and remember sitting down on the toilet just to feel the lifeless baby fall out of me, into the thing they had on the toilet.

I yelled for my mom, husband and nurse to come. The nurse clamped the baby's teeny cord, and I went back to my bed. Numb and empty. I didn't want to feel any emotion. I didn't want to even breathe. My life felt like it crumbled right then and there. I felt like the only chance I had to be a parent was done and over with.

My doctor came in a few hours later and asked us if we would like to know the gender of the baby, since she was able to tell. Of course we wanted to know what gender our baby was going to be. Our baby was a boy. We named him Gabriel Jesus. 

The time my emotions finally hit me hard was when the nurses brought in a box, with stuff like Gabriel's hospital band, a blanket, the bassinette card, and a card with his footprints on it. It was his teeny-tiny footprints that hit me hard, I remember thinking, he's so teeny. 

The following day we had a funeral. Even the second I had to hold him, his body felt so heavy. My heartfelt so heavy. As a moment of mourning, I skipped being vegetarian and when we went out to eat I filled my self up on beef nachos to mend my pain (mending pain with food was an epic failure). 

Much to my surprise in October, I was given a huge surprise. One I wouldn't have believed to have happened in a million years. I was going to be a mother once again! 

Why the holidays are so tough

People would think that the holidays would get easier now that I have three living children. But it doesn't get better. My birthday is a tough reminder of what happened only a week before then. Then don't even get me started on Christmas, Halloween, and Easter. I always wonder what Gabriel would have been into, as far as little boy toys go. I wonder what he would have wanted to be for Halloween, or how he would be enjoying school. I never even got a chance to hear him cry.

I was once told that the grief and pain will never go away, that you'll think of your angel baby all the time. The only thing that changes is that you learn to hide it easier. I've hidden this pain, and hardly talk about it. But I hoped writing this would help other parents, give them closure and allow Gabriel's story to be told.