Our son, Gabriel Jonathan Cascia, was born on February 24, 2004, at 8:25am. He died the same day at 10:00am. We were blessed with the opportunity to give him a lifetime of love in his 90 minutes with us.

Gabriel’s journey began in the summer of 2003, when we found out that we were expecting. Our son, Patrick Francis, had just turned one on April 2, and we were thrilled that we would have another child so close in age to Patrick. I had just opened my own business- a Speech Therapy Center- and all areas of our life seemed perfect. My initial visits to the doctor were typical and uneventful, as was my initial ultrasound. I found out that my due date was March 14, 2004- my birthday. What a wonderful birthday present! It was too soon to tell the gender of the baby at that time, however, so we waited patiently for that 20 week ultrasound. We had not known that Patrick was a boy until he was born, but this time I couldn’t wait to know. I even had my husband, Dave, take the whole day off from work so that we could go “baby shopping” after we got the news.

I remember sitting in the waiting room thinking about how lucky I was. I had already had the blood tests to determine if the baby had Downs Syndrome, and the test showed that the chances were 1 in 1500. The doctor had told me that that was great- I didn’t have to worry about it. I could overhear the conversation going on between the ultrasound tech, the doctor and the woman ahead of me. Her chances of having a baby with Downs Syndrome were 1 in 42. I remember thinking, “That poor woman. I feel so sorry for her. How can she even go on knowing that her chances are so high.” Little did I know what was in store for me.

We had told the ultrasound tech that we wanted to know the sex of the baby, and she told us right away that it was a boy. How great! A little brother for Patrick to play with! As I lay there on the table, thinking of creative ways to tell everyone it was a boy, I didn’t even notice how quiet and contemplative the tech had become. She said not a word to us. I knew that the ultrasound should take about 30 minutes, and we were now going past an hour. I started to worry, but figured that I was just being crazy. Everything had to be all right. After all I was young, healthy, had already had a perfect baby and my blood tests all came out OK. What could possibly go wrong?

My first indication was when the tech asked the doctor to get a video tape and began taping my ultrasound. I had had ultrasounds before, and none had ever been video-taped. There was a lot of pointing and whispering going on between the doctor and the tech, and I began to get very nervous. It was now an hour and a half that I was on the table. I will never forget the doctor’s first words to us- “I see some things that concern me.” He began to explain to us that our son’s arms bones, leg bones and rib cage were not growing appropriately. He said that our baby had something called Thanataphoric Skeletal Dysplasia. This was a lethal form of dwarfism. He said that our baby would die, either in utero or shortly after birth because the shortened ribs would prevent the chest cavity from growing. By the time the lungs would develop, there would be no room for them. The heart, because it was there first, would essentially take up the entire space leaving lungs that would be too small to sustain life. Who could ever be prepared for something like this. Something so devastating – there was absolutely no hope.

We left that appointment feeling so lost, and needing so many answers. We got second and third opinions, met with geneticists, obstetricians, radiologists, neonatologists, etc. Everyone told us the same thing- terminate the pregnancy. Their reasoning was that since the baby would die anyway, why would I put my body through a difficult pregnancy with possible complications to myself AND endure the mental anguish of walking around pregnant for 9 months knowing that there would be no baby to bring home in the end. This is very logical thinking, however logic does not weigh against the love a parent has for their child.

We told my doctor that we would not terminate the pregnancy, and he insisted that I speak to a counselor. He gave me a phone number which I called- I figured the more people I talked to and the more information I gathered the better prepared I would be. I called the number and began to tell my story to a counselor named Patty. I had no idea that Patty was a counselor for an abortion clinic. After hearing my story, she explained to me that because I was already 21 weeks pregnant, I had to make an appointment quickly-I only had up to 24 weeks to terminate. She then explained that because I was so far along, they would have to do a procedure in which the baby would not be “in tact” after removal. I cannot begin to explain the feelings that I had at that moment. It was a combination of sheer horror and complete peace. Horror at the thought of killing my baby in such a horrific way, and peace at the knowledge that my decision was confirmed. We were having this baby, and we would love this baby. We would hold him and kiss him and hug him for as long as God would allow us.

My husband and I felt very strongly about our decision. We felt that we had signed on to be parents to this baby right in the beginning, and if being his parents meant that our only job was to see him through his short life and make sure that he went with peace, dignity and love, then we had done our job as parents. We also began to feel that this was a very special baby with a very special reason for coming, although we did not know what that reason was. We did however know that God had picked us to be his parents and for that we were honored. We knew that we had a very big job to do, and we were going to make sure we did it right. We started by choosing a name for him. We picked Gabriel, meaning “Angel of God”, because we knew that he would always be our special little angel looking out for us. For his middle name, we chose Jonathan- a name that my Godmother had begun calling him when she prayed for him. Jonathan means “God’s most precious gift”, and we felt that was appropriate.

We switched doctors because my original doctor was uncomfortable with my continuing the pregnancy- he felt it was too risky and would not deliver the baby. The hospital I was going to deliver at felt the same way, so at 5 months pregnant, I began searching for a new doctor and a new hospital. We were amazed at how difficult a task this was. Some doctors agreed to deliver the baby, but it was quite obvious by their comments and attitude that they felt we were wasting their time. After much searching and many consultations, we were so lucky to find a wonderful group out of St. Peter’s Hospital in New Brunswick, NJ. They are high risk doctors who fully respected our beliefs and our desire to have this baby. The staff at their office and at the hospital helped to turn a difficult pregnancy into a beautiful experience.

For the remainder of the pregnancy I wrestled with many difficulties, both emotional and physical. I had a very hard time dealing with what I called “public appearances”. Being with friends and family was comforting, but going to gatherings where there would be strangers and acquaintances was extremely difficult. I often said that if I could pick the perfect thing for people to say to me, I wouldn’t know what to tell them. I was as baffled by this unusual situation as everyone else. People were understandably uncomfortable around me, because no one knew what to say. This kind of thing was so uncommon that there was no precedence set. People know what to say when someone is sick or when someone dies, but no one really knew what to say to a pregnant woman who was carrying a baby that would not live. This was uncharterted territory for all of us, and we had to learn day by day how to survive it gracefully.

I also encountered physical problems relating to the pregnancy, the worst of which was severe polyhydromnious. This is an accumulation of too much amniotic fluid. It began happening at about six months into the pregnancy. Because of my high risk status, I saw my doctor every week from 26 weeks on. Every other visit included an ultrasound, and that is how they determined that the fluid level was getting too high. Because Gabriel’s chest was so constricted, he was unable to swallow effectively, so the amniotic fluid continued to increase. An AFI (Amniotic Fluid Index) in a normal, healthy pregnancy is a number 20 or under. At the time Gabriel was born, my AFI was 43.6. This is more than double the normal amount, and translates to approximately 4 gallons of fluid. As you can imagine, this is very uncomfortable and a little dangerous. As the uterus stretches, the risk of rupture increases. Throughout all of this I continued to believe that Gabriel had a reason for coming, and that my job was to allow him to come. In the grand scheme of things, enduring a little discomfort for a few months is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil I would have suffered had I not allowed Gabriel to live his life. I believe as parents, we instinctively put our children’s best interest ahead of our own, even before they are born. This was the case with Gabriel. This was HIS journey, not mine. I was only along for the ride. I was his navigator, his companion, his mother, and my job was to see to it that he arrived safely at his destination.

Gabriel Jonathan was born via C-section on February 24, 2004 at 8:25am. He weighed 6lbs., 4oz. He lived for an hour and a half and was surrounded by friends and family who loved him. He was baptized by a deacon from our church, he was bathed and dressed in an outfit we bought for him, and most importantly he was held and kissed for his entire life. We had 18 close friends and family members there with us to meet Gabriel and share in his brief life, and all who were present feel blessed to have been there. It was a beautiful day for us, and we felt so honored to have been able to give Gabriel life and to have his life touch so many others. Gabriel reached his destination on that day, and those who took the journey with him are better people for it.

Gabriel’s service and burial were held on March 3, 2004- just 11 days before his due date and my birthday. When we pulled into the parking lot at the funeral home, we thought that there was certainly another service taking place because it was so crowded. We were absolutely amazed and overwhelmed when we discovered that all of these people were there for Gabriel. There were no other services happening that day, but yet close to 200 people filed into the funeral home. The room where Gabriel’s little casket sat was standing room only. I remember sitting in that big winged back chair that is reserved for immediate family- a chair I had never sat in before- and looking out into the hallway to an unending line of people that went right out the door and into the parking lot. There were of course our close friends and family, and co-workers of Dave’s- in fact, I think his whole department, but there were so many others. Playmates from my childhood, classmates from grammer school and their parents, people that I used to work with at old jobs, parents of the children I do therapy with, people my dad worked with before he retired, my mom’s friends from church, my mom’s childhood friends and even my nurse from the hospital and her husband. What an outpouring of LOVE. This is something that we will never forget. Can you imagine that so many doctors felt that Gabriel’s life would have been better off ended? That so many doctors felt that Gabriel’s life would mean nothing? How I wish that all of those doctors could have been there that day to see how many people loved little Gabriel. How I wish that all of those doctors could have seen the police cars stopping traffic at every intersection between the funeral home and the cemetery where Gabriel was buried between his great-grandparents. This was a life that mattered. A life that made a difference.

After going through an experience like this, your life changes. It has to. You can never be the same person that you were before. You can never lead the same life that you did before. This is a LIFE CHANGING experience. The changes that take place can swing in one of two directions- you can allow the sadness and pain to envelope you and control you, changing your life in the worst possible way, OR you can take your experience, draw from it and use it to help others, changing your life, and many other lives, for the better. We choose to look upon this experience as a positive one- one that has taught us so many things. We also chose to use our positive thoughts and feelings in an attempt to help others heal. This is why, and how, Gabriel’s Gift was born. We believe that THIS was Gabriel’s reason for coming. We felt so lucky to have had the time to prepare for Gabriel’s birth and death. This gave us the opportunity to plan the entire experience just the way we wanted it. We took over 200 pictures which are now arranged beautifully in a photo album that we were given as a gift. We had Gabriel’s handprints and footprints taken in a clay keepsake kit. We bought him an outfit that we wanted him to wear in all of his pictures. We arranged for his baptism with a deacon from our church. He was present at his birth and gave us the baptismal smock and candle that he would have gotten had he been baptized at the church.

We wanted to find a way to express our gratitude for having Gabriel in our lives, so we decided to establish a fund for infants who will be with their families only briefly, or who are entering the world with significant medical challenges. Gabriel’s Gift was established to ensure that all families of angels go home with special keepsake items, as we did. Families need to have pictures, they need to have momentos and they need have closure. We hope that by providing families with these items of comfort, we can help them to remember and to heal. When memories are all that you have, it is so important to keep them preserved and treasured. We hope that Gabriel’s Gift can continue to touch families for years to come.