This appeared in the paper this morning, and it was just so heartbreaking and yet, a testimonial to the power of love.

My heart and thoughts go out to this family!


The Arizona Republic
Sept. 25, 2006 12:00 AM

The final chapter of Veronica Celis' life began Sunday just before dawn.

A bacterial infection was spreading fast through her body, and there was no time to wait. The tiny girl growing inside the brain-dead woman needed to be born. Thirty weeks would have to be enough.

It was a day that Aaron Celis faced with both happiness and dread. Welcoming his daughter meant that his wife would soon die.

Cancer had overwhelmed her body, but life support was giving the baby a chance.

Veronica was just 36, the mother of three boys. She and Aaron had led a happy life in Yuma. She loved having a house with all boys, but her dream was for a girl. When the couple found out she was having a girl, Veronica seemed so happy. They decided to name the baby after her: Veronica Destiny.

But when the breast cancer that they thought she had licked came back, Veronica didn't falter. She weathered pain and tried to make the best of her pregnancy.

But her health spiraled downward, landing her in early August at Banner Good Samaritan Medical Center in Phoenix. She was heavily sedated. Then her body gave out and she was put on life support.

Veronica and baby Veronica kept on, past one week, then another. Doctors had hoped to deliver the baby Oct. 6, at about 32 weeks of pregnancy.

Veronica weathered highs and lows in blood pressure and hormonal spikes, but nothing too drastic until early Sunday, when infection began to spread.

Calls went out to the medical teams caring for both mother and daughter.

By 7 a.m., a large operating room was being prepped for Veronica. Nurses turned up the heat. The normally chilly room had to be warm for the baby.

Not quite an hour later, the room was filled with more than a dozen nurses and doctors. Two teams were in place, one around the table that would hold the baby, the other clustered around Veronica on the operating table.

Dressed in hospital scrubs, Aaron, 38, stood at the foot of Veronica's bed.

Dr. Karrie Francois, a perinatalogist, made an incision below Veronica's stomach. Within seconds, the team had scooped up the baby, pink and healthy, carrying her to the warming table.

Thirty weeks had been enough.

The doctor and nurses worked furiously over the infant, now kicking out with her tiny feet. There was a cough and a cry, then another small, gurgling cry.

"She's born into a loving and wonderful family," the hospital chaplain told daddy Aaron.

A prayer was said and the baby baptized.

Baby Veronica's arms sliced through the air and she kicked her feet. Aaron leaned in with his hand, and Veronica grabbed hold of his pinky with her right hand.

Dr. Michelle Bez, who works for Phoenix Children's Hospital in its location at Good Samaritan, needed to ensure the baby's breathing. So she inserted a tube down Veronica's throat. A green oxygen bag was attached and members of the team took turns pumping it.

"She's just fine," Bez said, beaming. "I'm happy."

Baby Veronica was 2 pounds, 15 ounces at birth. Because her lungs are so small, she'll stay in a ventilator and be given medicine for a while.

"She's so pretty," Aaron said.

He looked over at his wife, just 10 feet away. He was frozen, wanting to go to his wife, wanting to stay with the baby.

But in minutes, the choice was made for him. With the baby stable, she was carried to her mother. For a few minutes, the two lie side by side. Aaron bent down and squeezed his eyes shut, kissing his wife, then the baby, then Veronica again.

It was the last time mother and child would be together alive. Nurses took the baby to the neonatal unit, and Veronica was taken back to her hospital room.

During the next few hours, Aaron moved between the two areas of the hospital, welcoming his daughter and preparing to tell his wife goodbye.

He decided to wait to remove the life support until this morning. He doesn't want baby Veronica to share a birthday with the death of her mother.

A little after 1 p.m., Aaron emerged alone from Veronica's hospital room, leaving other family members in the room to say goodbye. He sighed and looked down.

"This is the most horrible day of my life," he said, his reddened eyes moist with tears.

"But I thanked her for everything. I told her, 'I will make it happen. We will make it a good family. I'll take care of our little baby.' "

Leaving his wife's side for even a few minutes has been hard. As he stood at the doorway of the ICU, his eyes were locked on the doorway to his wife's room.

He knew that as horrible as the day had been, he had to get through one more.

Aaron planned to spend the night with Veronica and be there this morning when doctors take her off the machines that have kept her heart and lungs going.

"I'll have one more night with her," he said.

"One last night."