Carrying an Angel

The two weeks following the amnio results were very hard and very sad. I was less than 20 weeks pregnant and was searching online for a burial outfit and a funeral song for my baby. I cried all the time. I looked at pictures of stillborn babies online constantly. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. My husband found me crying my eyes out one night and put a stop to it.

“Listen,” he said. “That’s enough of this crying and carrying on. We’re not going to go on like this. This is the end of it. From this point on, we are going to enjoy the rest of the time we have with him. He deserves that. Besides, we are his parents. If we don’t believe in him, who will?”

So, from that point on, we enjoyed the pregnancy. I mean, we really loved being pregnant. Everyday was a celebration, a victory that was never going to be achieved, but was.

We named our little boy Gabriel Nicolas James. Gabriel means God is my strength. Nicolas means victory. The name Gabriel, of course, comes from the angel Gabriel in the Bible who was a messenger sent to tell about Jesus. We got the name from one of our favorite movies, The Patriot. The actor who plays the character Gabriel in the movie said about Gabriel and the Patriots, “The Patriots had a reason to fight. They fought with fire and passion in their bellies, and because of this, they won an impossible battle.” His middle name Nicolas comes from my middle name Nicole.

Gabriel did things they said he would never do. He kicked and moved all the time, sometimes so forcefully that objects placed on my belly would almost get knocked off. Others could feel him move by placing their hands firmly on my belly. His heartrate remained strong, usually 129 beats per minute. He kicked and played and had fun. His was living his life.

I carried him. I bragged on him. I loved him. I talked to him about how special he was, too special to stay with me after his birth. I told my baby about Jesus. I told my baby I would give him to Jesus when it was time.