I wrote this story in my Notebook this morning, as all odds seemed against me. As much as I tried, I could not get onto the Weebly page. I realised my daughter was with me, showing me showing me what it really meant to persevere. Yes, I wanted to scream and stamp my feet, but she inspired me to keep finding a way. After about 3 hours, I managed to get on to the page. I was then faced with a surprise. As you may have already seen, there is a post from her just before this one. A few months ago, I handed her story to her, and I completely forgot that she had started writing her story. She never published it, and that is why it was not yet available for others to read. The photo above was taken on Friday evening _ 2 days before she left us.
Here is the story that I wrote this morning.
Our Precious Baby Girl. I think, in a time like this, one may say to themselves - there are no words, but my girl - your story is very far from being over. Your light shines so bright and so far, as you truly touched the lives of people from all over the world. From the moment you entered this world - you had a plan. Your life was mapped out and you followed that road every single step of the way. You may have tried to enter the doors of heaven several times along this way, but you allowed us to draw you back.
I know all your friends and family have so so many unanswered questions and today I want to share your departure with everyone to help begin to ease their pain.
The technicalities and medical jargon is still beyond my understanding, but I will tell the story as I understand it.
Gem went into hospital on Monday the 8th of March. Neither Michael or I were in Bloem at the time. I was in Natal and Michael was in the Eastern Cape. Gemma and Bryce had chosen to go to hostel for the year - but all this I will explain at a later stage.
She was having an episode of lows, and we were both comfortable knowing she was in good hands, and assumed she just needed a “blood sugar reset” as so happened every few months. She was complaining of stomach pain, and this too was not new to us. We had no doubt that she was in the best care.
On Saturday morning things started taking a turn - she was vomiting and really not looking well. I got a phone call from somebody at the hospital telling me that she was not well and that she had been admitted into ICU. I was concerned, but still this was a scenario we had faced several times before. I was on a yoga course at the time and I was keeping everyone up to date on Gemma’s situation.
Even though we were used to this pattern, my gut (or my daughter) was telling me something was different this time. I got back to my room at 9pm and saw 3 missed calls from Michael. When I called him back I could hear he was driving. The only word I heard was ventilation - I threw my phone down, ran to my instructor and told her I was leaving. Before I even knew it my bags were packed and I was on the road.
Michael and I both spoke to our girl, as we drove from different parts of the country to get to her. I arrived at 4am, and my heart broke when I saw her. My baby girl had been in this situation before - on a ventilator, with a central line and so many different fluids being pumped into her. She had pulled through this before.
A small part of me wanted her to fight this, but I knew this was her time. She had already let me know this on my journey home. She gave me a chance to hold her hand, lay my hand on her shoulder, kiss her forehead and tell her that everything is ok.
Michael arrived at 6am. He had his chance to say all that he wanted to say. We remained with her, and her Dr came in at about 8am.
He explained all that had happened from the moment things turned. During the course of the next hour - about 7 specialists were in and out. Her Dr. allowed us to stay with her during this all.
At about 8:45 he called us both in. Without going into any detail, he explained that her organs were shutting down one by one.
At this point, details don’t matter to me. I had a very special mom who came to visit yesterday. A mom, who too lost her Angel girl. She said to me that from this monger you will hear a lot of noise - and that noise is already beginning.
People will start blaming the Dr’s, analyzing the situation, what should have? What could have? Why? How?
We have had an amazing 2 days gathering together as a greater family - and together we are seeing all the signs she left us along the way - not just signs in the air, but actual, real goodbyes. Friends of hers have come to share stories and things she said to them in the last few days of her life. She had actually designed the cake she wanted at her funeral, which one of her friends is busy making.
In my heart, I know she was ready. It doesn’t take away the pain, or the hole she will be leaving, but I do know that the pain is gone forever. She had constant stomach pain, and she has freed us as parents of that feeling of utter hopelessness - holding a child in our arms, curled up in a ball, screaming in pain and having absolute no idea how to fix it. Over the past few years she had every test, scope, scan, X-ray - to try get to the bottom of it and nothing was ever found.
In Michael's words "maybe her organs have been groaning."
My other very strong feeling is that anxiety played a huge role. I believe that whatever was going on in her stomach was aggravated by anxiety. Her condition was so unique and so unpredictable - I believe in all her outgoingness and liveliness, there was a frightened little heart that felt so alone. As I’ve said numerous times, behind those bright and beautiful smiling eyes, there was a broken, painful little body and heart, that needed to find a place of peace and a place to rest.
Gemma’s story is so very far from being over - so this is not a goodbye. This is just a story to hopefully help those that mourn her loss to truly know and understand that she chose this departure.
The Dr’s can absolutely not understand how and why she turned from laughing and messaging her friends and family on Friday evening to her final rest on Sunday morning - but we, her family - know why.
Tomorrow we celebrate her life she lived and all the 13 years that she shared with us. Her heart was enormous and she gave little bits of it away to every single person that knew her in real life and from a distance. Hold on to those pieces, and let them be with you forever as you hold on to the memory of our Beautiful little Precious Gem️.
Fly high and fly far my butterfly and I hope when you are truly free knowing your loved ones have let you go, your first stop over will be at Anne Frank's house - a place you so desired to see most of your life. We loved you in life and we will love you in spirit - infinitely - like the pandora charm you gave me for Christmas. Until we meet again.....