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Gabrielle's Story
My name is Gabrielle, born in 1965 with a cleft lip. At the time, in Anchorage, AK, there were no doctors qualified to handle such a birth defect, so, on the 5th day of my life, my mother and I were flown to Seattle, WA. There I underwent my first surgery to close my lip so that I could begin taking a bottle for feeding. I have found that I was very fortunate to have been born in the time and place I was, as a new procedure for correcting clefts was being tried, and I was essentially a guinea pig.
At 2 years I underwent my first bone graft, taken from my right hip, to close the opening in the front of my upper gum. Unfortunately, 6 mos. after that, the walking toddler that I was, I fell against the arm of a heavy wood framed couch and busted my lip open again. To this day, that is the scar that I bear.
At 5 years my mother and I again returned to Seattle for my first reconstructive surgery to repair the cartilage in end of my nose. I still recall walking around Seattle Center and having children point and stare at me and ask their parents what was wrong with me, as I had a huge white bandage plastered to the middle of my face. My saving grace was my two older brothers telling me not to worry about what anyone thought. They have always been the best, loved me the most and always made me feel special, loved, wanted and above all "their beautiful little sister."
Like many of the stories I have read of others with a cleft problem, I was a shy child, quiet, withdrawn, self-conscious.
I can't really say that the surgeries or the doctors or hospitals would qualify as traumatic for me. In fact, the most traumatic thing of all was having to have dissolving stitches manually removed from my nose, as my system is incapable of dissolving them; they would just abscess, again and again.
The doctors, dentists and orthodontists just seemed to be a way of life for me. I begin orthodontic work when I was 7 and wore braces until I was 15.
Again, I must reflect on the stories I have read from others and feel that God truly blessed me. I was not as afflicted as others, physically. Yes, there were those kids in school who were mean to me, but I still had friends, in fact, I still have the first friend I ever made here in Florida, from 1st grade.
To combat any self-esteem issues, at 8, my grandmother enrolled me in ballet classes. From there I added acrobatics, and that rolled into gymnastics, where I was on a competitive team from age 11 to 14.
Then high school hit and all the adolescent problems that accompany it. I was normal though, I still had friends, even guy friends who were too shy to tell me they liked me. I got along with everyone. But, I still of course wondered if anyone would ever think I was pretty enough to want me to be their girlfriend. Then Bob came into my life. He was new at school, and I knew the moment I saw him that he liked me, and sure enough, he did. Mind you, this was before any further reconstruction had taken place. Bob was a Godsend, he thought I was beautiful. I was tall, slender, huge hazel eyes, long, long blond hair, and I was a nice person.
Then came time for further reconstructive work. In the '80's, it was thought that the best procedure was to wait until a child's bone structure had finished developing before any attempts were made to work on "normalizing" facial features. So, at 15 I had a second bone graft, taken from my left hip, which did not take. Dermabrasion to my upper lip followed that, and then the summer I was 16 I had my nose job. In addition, because of a hereditary overdeveloped chin, my surgeon shaved 1/2 an inch of bone away, giving a rounder, rather than a longer look to my face. My nose job consisted of shaving bone from my bridge and the restructuring of a slightly flattened nostril. All of which created the profile I have today.
Bob stood by my side the entire time. Visited me at the hospital, took care of me, and never made me feel like there was anything wrong with me. He was awesome, and so were my friends.
I didn't have the perfect life by any stretch of the imagination. My "real" father walked out when I was 6, leaving my mother alone to deal with everything I had to go through, but we managed. I was raised by very strong women, who never let me feel like there was anything "wrong" with me. I was not allowed to ever use my defect as an excuse for underachievement. I was an above average student who excelled at almost everything I tried. I would have to say that I had a normal life with a few added obstacles that simply made me a better, stronger person; one who is compassionate, understanding and loving.
I recently contacted the surgeon who did my reconstruction, went to see him, and made a day of it at the Cleft Clinic where he is the chief surgeon. He is a warm and wonderful man who was very proud of the person I have turned out to be.
By trade, I am an advertising copywriter and marketer. I have had to meet with many people in my career, look them in the eye with confidence and sell them on my ideas. My reason for contacting my surgeon was simple; though I have had a rather successful career as a "freelancer" there is a certain personal satisfaction that I am missing -- helping people.
For all of you who have lived through the teasing, taunting, and pain, I say to you -- Speak Out. No one knows what we have gone through unless we stand up and make ourselves heard. When I went to the clinic with my surgeon and saw the sweet little faces of all those children, mostly toddlers, and the concern on their mother's faces, it broke my heart. They don't know what to expect, and they should.
My current project is creating posters and brochures for parent's who have been surprised with a newborn who has a cleft lip or palate. For many of us, our parents had no idea we were going to be born as we were. In my case, it was not a hereditary defect, my mother had the flu while she was pregnant with me. An uncontrollable circumstance.
I am also scheduled to speak at an upcoming parent's group for children with this defect. I am happy to do it. To see the sense of relief on the faces of the handful of mother's I recently met, at the fact that I am fine, I survived, is a reward far greater than money.
For those of you who have children who were also born "cleft," you know what I am talking about. Fearing the unknown is something no one should have to go through when there are so many of us who do know.
I look at my "defect" as a blessing in disguise. It allowed me to look beyond the reflection in the mirror to places deeper within myself -- places many "normal" people never know exist. It gave me the drive to know that there was so much more to me than what meets the eye. It made me believe that I could overcome anything else that God or anyone threw my way. It made me see how shallow the world can be, and how I did not want to be. And now, it has shown me that my trials and tribulations can be used to help others face what I have already been through.
I welcome comments for all of you -- so write me at GDWINK@aol.com
Additionally, anyone who would like my surgeon's name, contact me, the man is gifted, caring and determined. He has helped so many children and adults with this problem, I don't think you will be disappointed.
My Best to All -- Gabrielle