My newborn, my angel
To my daughter, my miracle baby
I remember the day I finally saw you. I know it was before the sunrise although I did not look outside. I just had to look at the clock on the wall in front of me. It was before five in the morning, remember? You were quiet. Only the machines buzzing around and my voice were filling the space...that cold room. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful and delicate. Nothing else mattered at that moment; I just wanted you, I wanted to see if you were real, I wanted to touch you.
I know that you coming to my life was not planned. Yes, it is true, I almost fainted when I knew. What was I supposed to do? I mean, I was not a young adult anymore, but that did not mean I was ready for you. During the first month of your apparent existence, doctors were not able to detect you. I was explained that maybe it was a false alarm. Well, I wanted that to be the truth because for months I was under very powerful antidepressants and other medications. Certainly, I did not want the medications to harm you in any way. I let it be a false alarm, as the doctors told me, but I still felt something. A month passed by and I decided to see another doctor. He performed a blood test, and there you were!!! Again? I was in shock. The doctor even questioned my knowledge about the "bees and the flowers," (that was funny). I made clear to him that the only time my baby was conceived was a month before and not after that time.
I remember when the doctor told me that in some way or another you held on to me and found a corner to hide, because he was not able to find any other explanation. Starting that day, I quit taking all the medications I was on. Two weeks later I had the opportunity to see you on an ultrasound. What an amazing view of you! I saw your heart beating and your body moving a little. My eyes filled with tears while I kept asking the doctor, "Is the baby ok?", and him assuring me that you were. It was too premature to see the sex of the baby, but I was scheduled to have a amniocentesis at the end of February. I drove home with clear vision of the shape of your body.
Getting off the medications (5 in total), was a very hard thing to do. I was suggested to go to detox, but I opted to do it myself with the help of my family. You see, my angel, I did not mind taking myself off the medications. I had this weird feeling of not wanting the medications anymore because you were alive inside of me. The medications withdrawal was intense; tremors, restlessness and so much fear of being alone in the house. I know you felt this too, but I guess you kept both of us strong. As I explained to you, at the time you came to my life I was suffering so much with depression in a very dangerous way; there was not much to care about (at least that was what I thought). You gave meaning to my life...you kept me alive.
I am so sorry they disturbed you with the amniocentesis, but the doctor wanted to make sure you did not suffer from a genetic disease, cystic fibrosis, sickle cell disease, etc. We wanted to be prepared to receive you the best way we could. Few days later, I was told by the doctor that you were a GIRL! A girl? I was so happy to know you had a name. Also, all the results were clear. Good news, eh? That day I had the chance to see you again on an ultrasound and you looked fabulous.
The weeks passed by and with them, my fears of how would I be able to take care of you having such a demanding job. At the time I was pregnant, you and I were staying with your grandparents (my parents) due to my mental conditions. Remember when I used to talk to you at night and cry until falling asleep? Remember when we used to drive to my job for one hour and a half in the morning and I would sing to you and prayed? Unfortunately, things began changing. The environment surrounding your little body was having some complications. I bet you felt so scared, I know I was. We had days of bed-rest and hours of watching "Titanic" over and over again.
It was April 22 when I began feeling that strange pain and cramps. Something was so wrong. To make the situation worst, I was hours away from my doctor at a hotel coordinating a NASA conference. We went to the nearest hospital that Saturday and I stayed in bed until Monday. I was talking to you a lot more, telling you how important you were in my life. The contractions stopped on Monday morning and we were ready to go home next Tuesday. But, what happened? Contractions began again after midnight. You were moving and kicking hard. I felt you were in distress. My baby girl, I did not know how to ease your pain. Your mommy was unable to help you...unable to protect you.
You were not supposed to arrive yet...it was not your time. Twenty-four weeks is not enough time, your body was still to little, your lungs and internal organs were not strong enough. I know, the environment you were in was getting old and detaching from the only place our bodies had connection. I am sure this moment also surprised you. We were both confused of what was going on. During the last forty-five minutes, Your heart was beating irregularly, your movements were sudden. I was desperate while the medical staff was telling me not to push. The thing was that you were wanting to get out of there. You did your job by giving me company for all the months I had you inside of me. You saved me, my dear angel. You touched my heart. You need to fly away, and we needed to meet each other before you leave.
Remember what I said to you aloud? I said, "Gabriela, it's ok, go with God. Mommy will be fine. Go". You were born and I tried to reach you, but the nurse took you away and placed you on the small examination table. I was calling your name and crying so hard. I saw when you took your last breath, but the doctor told me that nothing could be done. I asked to see you closely. Your little body was complete. I touched your little fingers, your head, ears, and eyes. I felt your back, your face and your feet. Your beautiful lips. Oh my dear angel.
My beautiful girl, you were born on April 24, 2001 and you were free to fly the same day. This is the first and maybe the only letter I write to you because it hurts a little, but mommy is ok. I wanted so much to protect you and love you and see you grow. It was an honor to have you in my life. I am so proud of you.
My baby girl was and will always be an amazing miracle in my life. I will always wonder what kind of a lady she could have been, but her mission was to live for 24 weeks and make me understand how special I am as a woman and a mom, and how important is to cherish moments with love ones before is to late. If you are experiencing a lost like this one, be grateful for the time you had together; make your baby's life worthy and your life better.