Through the Eyes of his Sister.

by Katie Gallagher
Baby Brian’s Younger Sister

While not something we spoke about regularly, my siblings and I grew up knowing that my parents had given birth to Brian, our oldest sibling, who had died within a couple hours of being born. My parents would wish Brian a happy birthday every year on his birthdate, always saying the age he would have been that year. When I was a teenager, going through normal teenager experiences with teenager-y feelings, I would often pray to Brian, my older brother, to give me guidance and protection. Praying to Brian brought me peace, remembering that I had an older brother as a guardian angel, looking out for me.

It was when I was a freshman in college, attending Creighton University in Omaha, NE, when I first had the opportunity to take trips on my own to visit my Grandma (Dad’s mother, Catherine Gallagher) in Highmore, South Dakota. I’ll never forget a drive with my Grandma across the South Dakota prairie listening to her recount her memories of learning about Brian’s death and then attending his burial. The morning she received that phone call from my Dad telling her that Brian had died. She knew when the phone rang that something wasn’t right. The casket arriving at Highmore and the viewing. Her taking a photo of baby Brian in his white casket knowing that my Mom did not want to see the photo then, but, knowing that one day, she would change her mind and wish to look upon him again. Her heartache as she talked about how hard my Mom had labored with him. She was teary-eyed recounting her memories, but I knew she was glad to pass her stories on to me.

At some point during my college years, Mom decided to frame that very photo of baby Brian in his casket and sent each of her children their own framed copy. Eventually, baby Brian’s framed photo would find a home next to all her other prized family photos on display in our living room. I remember feeling uneasy about this, but I was happy that my mom was finding a way to grieve after all those years.

Several years later, I had the beautiful gift to give birth to my own children, Jack and Liam. I was anxious going into labor with my firstborn and asked my Mom to be with me in the labor and delivery room. I knew that she had her Mom (Etta Jean Ruhlman) present during her delivery of me, and I felt calmer having my Mom (and her Mom in spirit) with me. She shared with me her special secret about having a focal point on the hospital wall to help during labor and had the foresight to bring and tape a photo of my firstborn to the wall as my focal point during the delivery of my second child.


It was only 2 years later, when my Liam was 2 and my Jack 3 years old, that my parents told me about their desire to reinter baby Brian at Sturgis National Cemetery. I was immediately filled with grief and heartache thinking about losing a child immediately after labor and delivery, and I could not help but think of my own children in the same breath. Not 6 months earlier, I had experienced watching my Jack stop breathing and turn blue during a febrile seizure. I knew I had to accompany my parents on this experience, to be present for my mom and dad as they continued their grieving process.

When we learned from the funeral home director that we were able to hold a viewing of baby Brian, I wasn’t sure I would be able to participate. It hit too close to home for me as a new mom, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing any sign of corruption. I made a pact with my brother, Thomas, that he would go first to view baby Brian and tell me if there was any sign of corruption, not trusting that the funeral home director wasn’t immune to signs of decay.

There I was with my Aunt Alison (Dad’s sister), waiting in the back of the chapel for the “all clear” from Thomas, when it struck me that I was in the same funeral home where the viewing of baby Brian was held 37 years prior. When Thomas retrieved me, I was incredibly apprehensive, but I proceeded to the front of the chapel and was immediately awestruck at the perfect condition of baby Brian. The intact strands of strawberry blond hair still attached on his head, the beautiful baby blanket, that looked like it had just been bought yesterday, wrapped around his little body, his sweet full cheeks and rosy face. He looked like he was just peacefully sleeping. It was an intense moment, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was truly overcome with gratitude that my parents could have this moment, 37 years after their firstborn’s death, after they had worked through all their anger and shock, to truly grieve and just love on their baby Brian. The only thing I knew in that moment was that God is good, and His mercy was truly present.

I had to excuse myself from the chapel when my Mom said she wanted to hold baby Brian. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to not fall apart with emotion and fear, thinking about the lives of my own babies. But my mom was just glowing when she returned from holding her firstborn, 37 years later. Watching my dad carry baby Brian’s white casket, I couldn’t believe how small it looked. My dad was so proud to be able to carry his son to his new resting place, where one day he would lie next to him. It was an extraordinary, powerful, and incredibly personal experience for my family. One that I’ve been quite nervous to share. But I am in awe of my parents’ strength and desire to share their story with the world. May our story bring peace to grieving parents.