I believe in Amelia.

One of the pieces I'm most proud of writing-- ever.

Rachel Roitman- 2018

It began at my 20-week prenatal check-up. After that day, it was discovered I had a genetic disorder, Osteogenesis Imperfecta Type II, otherwise known as brittle bones disease. It was the perinatal lethal form, a diagnosis which promised I would never come home from the hospital, never grow up, and, whatever brief time I might survive would consist of constant suffering. My parents hoped for the best, but understood the facts and made plans accordingly; their preparations for my birth did not include setting up a nursery.

While this was happening, my mother’s best friend, Gail, was dying of ovarian cancer. Realizing she would die before I was born, Gail promised my mom that she would be waiting to look after me on the other side. Gail told my parents, “Regardless of what you decide to call her, my name for the baby in heaven will be Amelia”. After Gail died, and as the situation with me grew increasingly grim, my mom found comfort in Gail’s promise. She thought the name Amelia was fitting for an angel.

Then I lived. Obviously. I, who was so full of life, could not take the name, Amelia, meant for a dead angel-child, not of this Earth. And so, after ample deliberation, my name became Rachel Kathryn (much to the disappointment of my five-year-old sister, who lobbied for the name “Eyeshadow”).

As Rachel, my life’s all about beating the odds and making the most of the life I am surprisingly living. I do face certain challenges though. For instance, it’s practically impossible to find shoes in my size at stores other than Gymboree! Granted, my diagnosis does mean there are some things I can’t do, such as being forgotten or remaining anonymous. Because of how I look, people notice me. And once I have people’s attention, it gives me the ability to make an impact, a power I try to use for good every day.

Amelia is a part of my story and my being, and the Rachel I currently am would not exist without a previous Amelia pushing me to make the most of the life I have and be grateful. I am imperfect. I am cherished. I am blessed. While I was growing up, the story of Amelia was only told as a heartwarming anecdote demonstrating my family’s little miracle. The person who was supposed to be Amelia, the baby of hopelessness and demise, never came into existence. But for me, she has always been alive- a reminder of what might have been. There is no dead Amelia in heaven. In the story I tell myself, she is strong and noble and brave- the secret heroine whose fate was to be sacrificed on my behalf. And her sacrifice has allowed me to become those things: strong and noble and brave. I embrace her limitlessness.

Amelia is somewhere guiding me. Maybe in myself. She wasn’t meant to live on Earth. Rachel is. But I do think her story deserves to be told.

I believe in Amelia.