Where do I begin? From the day I married my wonderful husband and we thought we would get pregnant right away? From the day I discovered it wasn't working and we needed to go to a specialist? From the day I found out I was pregnant with my blessed baby after two laproscopies and fertility drugs? Yes that is the place to start, the place where I thought all the pain of wanting to be a mother had come to an end and where I thought life would move forward and I would hold and raise a beautiful baby.

I remember finding out in February 1999 that I was pregnant. I stared in disbelief at my HPT and then burst into tears. So much for keeping it a secret as I had to share it with the world. I remember sending my parents flowers with a cute little note about becoming grandparents that October. I was excited and also a bit worried about this news. I was finally a mother, would I be a good mother, could I raise a lovely Christian child in this world with so much going against me? I would do my best I vowed!

All went fine and my 12 week ultrasound was pure bliss to see my little baby waving at me in the ultrasound, a picture I will treasure forever. I thought at this point all would be wonderful and I would have a normal pregnancy with all the aches and pains and growing belly as everyone else did. It also meant I could leave a job I was counting the days to leave as the commute and the workload were too much of a strain on me and my new pregnancy. So counting the days became a fun thing to do knowing each day farther meant a day closer to hold my baby in my arms.

I had my June 1999 ultrasound and even brought in my parents from out of town for their first peek at their first grandchild. Here we were all crammed in this tiny room to see our precious baby. I felt strange, as the picture was so fuzzy and unclear and I just couldn't see a thing on the screen. The ultrasound technician (she was so very nice) didn't say a word but I just couldn't understand. I didn't say much at this point and just asked for my pictures at the end in which I still couldn't spot a thing. I realize now it was because there was no fluid in the pictures at all.

The next morning at work my fertility Doctor called me and said my baby had no fluid and I needed to go to the university hospital for a Level II ultrasound. I thought I would die right there on my chair and then thought maybe it isn't something so bad. I went online right away and found the word oligohydramnios and thought OK, maybe I leaked it out and bed rest and a lot of fluids would fix the whole thing.

My Level II ultrasound was so very scary and I remember my parents and my husband came with me. I remember when they sat us down in this tiny room with the Doctor and he told us that our baby had no kidneys or amniotic fluid as the kidneys produce this fluid and would die shortly after birth if not before. My baby had Potter's Syndrome (Bilaterial Renal Agenesis) and nothing could change or fix this. My whole world fell down before my feet.

I didn't cry at the time, I think I was in denial, shock and disbelief. How could God let this happen after all I went through to have this baby. I remember not believing this was happening and we went for numerous ultrasounds after this day. Each one confirming the same as the first and bit by bit I became to realize that this was really happening to me. The baby I had worked so hard to have was going to be born and die before I could raise it. The funny thing is that one week before the baby had it's diagnosis I knew something was wrong and went to a walk-in medical clinic asking for an ultrasound and was not able to have one quick enough. I just felt something was not right, how strange this motherly intuition.

I remember sitting at home in my rocking chair I had bought for this child and smiled at each movement and then cried at each kick. It was painful, it was joyous it was so many emotions rolled into one. I remember they asked me each week when I wanted to induce and each week I said I just cannot. How can I stop the beating heart of this child that God so intended for me to have. After all I had been through to become pregnant and to become a mother who was I to choose this child's day of death.

The Doctor told me the baby would probably be born early maybe at 30 weeks so I left work to cherish each moment left with my baby. I remember the daily questions about when my baby was due, was this the first, was I excited etc... Truthfully, I told everyone the truth even if I did not know them. How could I lie about my baby and then deal with the lies later on. I told them that without a miracle she would die after birth. I received so many reactions, so many. From utter shock to sadness and then this admiration of carrying a baby to term. Didn't they understand??? I didn't need admiration, I didn't need praise, I was just doing what was right for my child.

I then started to pray that this baby would stay with me as long as it could. (I didn't know the sex of the baby but was told it was most likely a boy). I continued with my life daily but at night in bed I sat there in tears and prayed over and over for a miracle. I would feel the baby move during each prayer and knew that the baby understand and felt my love. I then prayed for the baby to be with me on my birthday and again I was blessed. I also prayed for the baby to look at me just once after birth and to live through labour long enough to die in my arms.

I went into labour at 38 weeks and 4 days which was totally amazing without fluid. Luckily, my baby decided to go head down really early and I had a normal delivery. The labour was again filled with the fear of having a child who will die during/after birth and seeing this child who had remained so strong for so long. I remember it was 2-3am and I was so exhausted and fully dilated at this point. I told them I felt no desire to push at all, not one. They told me I could rest and sleep a bit. My mom said later they felt that I wasn't ready to let go, and that rest would do me good. So sleep I did fully dilated for four hours.

I woke up at around 6-7am and started to push at this point when they told me too. I delivered my precious, precious little girl at 8am. MY GIRL, whom I thought would be a boy. Luckily we had both names picked out and my girl became Gabriela Lael which means Angel who belongs to God.

She was so beautiful, but I feel I didn't enjoy her as much as I could because looking back I realize the hospital had given me drugs to make me relaxed and that took away my strong feelings at her birth. I wish I would have known they had done this prior to them doing this as I would had refused them 100%. My time with her was so short.

She was baptized immediately after birth by a very special Chaplain named Vicki and then handed into my arms. I remember looking at her sweet face with her little squished in nose (due to the lack of fluid) and my heart broke seeing her struggle to breathe. I then took one look at her and told her she needed to go to Heaven and that it was ok to die. She took one last breath and died in my arms. No I didn't see her eyes, but she did survive labour and did die in her mama's arms after I told her it was ok. She hung on for me and the gift she gave me was to die in my arms and no-one else's.

There are so many things I would have done if I just would have understood more. More pictures, a video, held her for longer. I realize now that we cannot change the past and that I must move forward to the future and know she waits for me at the Gates of Heaven, and that I truly must be the best person I can be.

She changed my life, she blessed me with her short life and gave me more gifts then anyone ever can. Through her loss I have become dedicated to helping others, to start a website which helps families worldwide to deal with this type of loss. I have met the sweetest, kindest women in the world in which some of them I call my best friends now. People often ask me how I can call my loss a blessing. How can I not? Truly how can I not???