Abel and Oren's Story

 Written by Abel's mom, founder of "Born Abel"

When my husband and I contemplated growing our family, we encountered a multitude of challenges and options that I had not always recognized. Early on, I grappled with depression and frustration toward God after enduring six failed intrauterine insemination (IUI) attempts. Yet, in an unexpected twist on April 1st, we received a call offering us the chance to adopt a baby girl—an opportunity we embraced despite having no prior knowledge of adoption or foster care. This experience taught me the power of relinquishing control and trusting in a greater plan. Years later, this same faith guided us to adopt twin boys through a similarly miraculous process, an event that profoundly reshaped our lives. As I approached an age deemed "geriatric" by medical standards—past 40, with doctors and nurses candidly noting it on my chart—I yearned for another child. However, my personal convictions against in vitro fertilization (IVF) led me to explore alternative paths, uncovering the existence of millions of frozen embryos from others’ IVF cycles, many labeled "abnormal" and left unadopted.

Through extensive research into these embryos, I learned of the often-inaccurate testing that deemed them "Complex Abnormal" or "Mosaic," based on placental cells rather than the embryo itself—a discovery that fueled our decision to act. Despite my advanced maternal age and our already sizable family, my husband and I felt compelled to adopt two such embryos with low adoption prospects. In May, I traveled to Syracuse, New York, for the embryo transfer, and six weeks later, we were elated to discover that both had implanted successfully. At 12 weeks, an ultrasound revealed that Baby B, whom we named Abel, had an omphalocele—a condition affecting one in 5,000 births and 99% survivable—yet some medical professionals urged termination, which we adamantly declined. The pregnancy progressed beautifully until 33 weeks, when polyhydramnios required draining two liters of amniotic fluid from around Abel. Subsequent testing of this fluid revealed a Trisomy 18 diagnosis, shattering our hearts with the prognosis that Abel might not survive. On January 27, 2023, Abel and his twin brother Oren were born. Against all odds, Abel thrived for 210 days in the NICU, where we fiercely advocated for his care, challenging medical biases that limited treatment based on his condition. His life transformed our family, softened the perspectives of healthcare providers, and continues to inspire people globally—a legacy I honor with a poem dedicated to him, capturing the indelible mark of his brief yet extraordinary existence.

A Shred of Hope

There once was a boy born with a shred of hope

His mommy knitted it into a mitten to help her cope

His daddy wrapped it around his hospital bed

Nurses stretched it and that little shred spread 

The shred became a sweater and in not too long

That little boy popped the top his bed as he grew strong

A blanket was formed from the beautiful shred

Hope expanded in every incredible thread

His room illuminated as it continued to grow

Shreds followed some home and hearts began to glow

Throughout the hospital people found these shreds sticking to their shoes

Some that had none at all, now couldn’t refuse 

These gorgeous colors weaved through the hospital and out in the street

They intersected cities, towns and everywhere they meet

As the little boy smiled and wrote a short little book

The little shred keep growing and off it took…

It gathered up shreds from other boys and girls 

It sparkled like rubies and gems and a mountain of pearls

Hundreds of children started weaving along

The little shreds together made them all feel as though they belong

Although his life was shorter than most expect

His shred of hope continues to collect…

Throughout the country it’s expanded and swirled 

It’s woven into a tapestry throughout the world

One little shred might seem like nothing at all

But don’t underestimate the power of hope no matter how small