My daughter, Gabriella Graciela, is fourteen years old, but looks no older than five.  She is very small for her age and weighs maybe 50 pounds (on a good day). 

Gabbie is my heart, my soul, my everything.  She is the light of my life; I would do anything for her.  

Gabbie was born with significant brain damage that left her unable to walk and talk on her own.  She breathes with a ventilator attached to a trache tube; when she was four months old, she had a spell of apnea (stoppage of breathing) that lasted well over 18 minutes.  As a result: total devastation to her brain.  It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me as a parent.

All dreams I had for Gabbie vanished just like that.  Instead of planning her future, I now had to plan on options such as whether I should just let her go to an institution for the severely handicapped or to let her die ... or to take her home and try to raise her to the best of my ability.

I chose the latter.  It turned out to be the very best thing I could have ever done for my girl.

 I wanted to help her; once I learned all the tricks and nuances of caring for a child that was so medically fragile, it became less frightening, less daunting, and it gradually got easier.

I can now change tubes better than any of her nurses and can read my daughter like a book.  I can tell when she isn't getting as much air into her lungs or if she isn't feeling good.  I can tell when she is happy or not and I can tell how she is feeling just by the way she moves her eyes or moves her arms and mouth.  

I can read her stats and know what to do if a problem arises.  If worse comes to worse, there's always the ER.  I don't like taking Gabbie there, but sometimes her life may be in jeopardy, so I have to do it if she is to survive.  I have revived her on several occasions and it is always a scary time.  

The last time Gabbie had one of these "crises" was when she was six.

Other than a few rounds of pneumonia, Gabbie has enjoyed good health since then.  She is one of the healthier members of the family.  My husband Gustavo, our ten-year-old son Manny (Emanuelo), and I all suffer from terrrible allergies and asthma.  Gabbie is the only one who does not have allergies.  LOL

People often wonder why I choose to care for Gabriella the way I do, but she's my child and I am not about to have a bunch of strangers care for her, especially if they don't know one iota about her or her medical problems!  We do have nurses come out, but more often than not, I do the lion's share of the work ... and that is in ADDITION to working and caring for Gus and Manny!

I owe it all to God for the strength He has given me.  I couldn't do it without Him!

Most people are pretty good at accepting Gabbie, but some have a problem dealing with all the medical paraphenalia (and her wheelchair).  I'm sorry; she can't help how she is.  Gabbie didn't ask to end up this way: it was just an unfortunate, horrible accident that was beyond her control!  If people can't accept my kid, then THEY'RE the one who has the problem, NOT me OR Gabriella!!

I don't know what the future holds in store for my daughter, but one thing IS clear:  I'll be DAMNED if people treat her like useless junk or like a thing to be pitied instead of a person!  She is NOT her disabilities: she is a PERSON who happens to BE disabled!!

~Written by her Mami, Carina Anjelita Maria Hernandez, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

~End of part one.~