Maria, Spreading HOPE for Alexander
Ambassador Maria Gullage, fundraising in memory of Alexander
“At 35 years of age, we were ecstatic to be expecting our first child. The gender was a surprise, I had a perfect textbook pregnancy and was excited for all the adventures to come. On August 8th, 2019 at 40 weeks and 3 days, my water broke at home and my labour progressed fast and furious. When we were at the hospital, the doctors suggested an epidural because I was progressing very quickly and baby’s heart rate was elevated for a short period of time. My husband went to the car to get our bags during my epidural and my mom stayed with me. Once the epidural was placed, the baby’s heart rate dropped and didn’t recover. The nurses and staff worked quickly to stimulate baby and then rushed me to the OR for what I suspected would be an emergency c-section. I was fully dilated when we arrived so they encouraged me to push and with 2 pushes I delivered our first son. All without my husband not being present and not being aware of what occurred.
I asked the staff what the gender was. No one answered me. The obstetrician on call told me that the baby was brought to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and went to check on the gender. She returned to tell us ‘it was a boy but he’s very sick’. I had no idea what that meant or the magnitude of what our story would reveal.
It was five hours before I had any information. It was six hours before I could see my son. The neonatal doctors came to speak with me and told me he had a very low heart rate when he was delivered and required a full 15 minute resuscitation before they ‘got him back’. They estimated he was 10 mins without a detectable heart rate inside me before I delivered him and then 15 mins outside. I’m a Registered Nurse and this information told me more than anything else could have. Anything else anyone said after that, I didn’t retain. I knew this wasn’t good and that long without sufficient oxygen meant damage and deficits. I wondered what I had done wrong.
At six hours old, we laid eyes on our sweet Alexander-at 9lbs 1 ounce, he was pure perfection. Absolutely gorgeous. He was connected to IVs and a breathing tube. He was lifeless and kept alive with machines, sedated with medications to attempt to preserve his brain function. They told me he had a ‘strong heart’. That was my whole heart right there.
My heart was beating outside of my chest in a little neonatal bed and all I could do was stare at him and touch his perfect chubby cheeks and button nose, holding his hand that never grasped my fingers in return. I couldn’t hold him. I was numb, I was in shock. What had I done wrong?
Through the course of the next few days, we learned Alexander was diagnosed with HIE-Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy, basically a loss of oxygen during labour and delivery had caused brain damage. They did bloodwork and tests, he was wrapped in a cooling wrap for 72 hours to preserve brain and metabolic function, as per protocol. I was finally able to hold him when he was 3 days old. That feeling of having the child I created and carried, finally in my arms was something I will never be able to describe. We had numerous tests to determine brain function and the doctors told us that if he survived, he would have a difficult life with severe deficits.
On the morning of August 13th, we entered the NICU with all of my family for his dedication ceremony to dedicate him to God, as we do in the Salvation Army faith and the neonatal doctor told me that ‘Alexander had declared himself overnight, requiring 100% oxygen and it was okay to let him go’. I felt like the floor fell out from underneath me. I saw black. I screamed ‘no it’s not’. How could someone tell me it was okay to let my only child go when we had waited 9 months for him and dreamed of the memories we would make. My life was shattered. My body and brain were numb. I begged and pleaded with God to take me instead of wanting to take my child. My 5 day old perfect little boy.
At 2pm on August 13th, 2019, after being held by his grandparents and family, touched and kissed by so many that loved him, they placed him in my arms and removed his breathing tube. For the very first time, I was able to put my son up on my chest and cuddle him the way I had dreamed of. We ran out of the NICU room to a private side room where myself and his dad rocked him, talked to him and sang to him as he took his final breaths snuggled into his momma. At 244pm my son was pronounced dead and life as I had known it, ended forever.
I remember every detail of those days and yet so much of it I have blocked out. I was numb and still am most days. I’m a shell of my former self. I hit the lowest point I could ever imagine and my nails have bled as I’ve continued to work to climb out of the pit I fell into. So many unanswered questions. So much pain.
Since those days, I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD and continue to struggle to find myself, to discover who I am since losing my son and who I’m meant to be. I live every day honouring him, speaking his name, showering him with love and longing to know who he would have been. His heart rhythm and name is tattooed on my arm, wearing my heart on my sleeve. I continue to think of the immense love that boy was given and continues to receive. He was here on earth for 5 short days but he made massive waves in our lives and the lives of those who love us and our community. He was here, he’s loved and he mattered. We immersed him in pure love for as long as we had him.
He made me a momma and for that, I am forever grateful.
Continuing this daily journey without my son is a challenge but it’s one fuelled by the resilience he gave me. I continue therapy to work on this new imperfect version of me. This bereaved momma, this hurt heart and this pained soul. But I’m still here for a reason and his life had purpose and if it’s to share my story to empower other bereaved moms and those who have experienced loss-then I will continue to do that until the day I get to hold my son again in heaven.
I will never understand so much of my story but I understand that inside all of my pain and trauma-there is love and purpose and I will continue that for as long as there’s breath in my body.
Always, Alexander 💙💙”
Pregnancy and infant loss is an unique type of loss, leaving the grievers to feel isolated and unsure of how to move forward. We'd be grateful if you you would consider making a contribution to Maria’s fundraiser in honor of Alexander. Your gift ensures that other parents who endure loss on their journey to parenthood have the support, resources, and community they need in order to navigate life after loss.
With your support, here’s what we were able to accomplish during 2022 (2022 Annual Report):
Fifty percent of support group participants received financial support to ensure that all parents have access to services.
Enhanced outreach to and created support services for Black, Indigenous, and other Communities of Color as a response to the alarming rate of preterm births and stillbirths caused by racial disparities in perinatal and infant health.
Offered 50 different support group programs (virtual workshops, virtual support groups, and in-person retreats) to our community of bereaved families.
Supplied our unique perinatal bereavement guides to 400 hospitals and providers to assist in caring for grieving families.
Hosted 10 perinatal bereavement education webinars to parents and providers.
Created community and spread awareness about pregnancy and infant loss through social media.