‘Mommy’s not coming home’
Family left crushed as B’klyn gal dies after childbirth
On March 8, Sara Porter, a TV producer from Carroll Gardens, gave birth to her third son at Mount Sinai St. Luke’s on the Upper West Side. Five days later, the seemingly healthy 39-year-old mom died from presumed sepsis, having developed an infection and undergone an emergency hysterectomy. While it’s hard to fathom, women still die from childbirth-related causes in the United States — with 24 out of every 100,000 mothers dying during live birth or within the following 42 days, according to a 2014 report in the journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology.
Sara’s husband, Dominic Gillette, 40, shares with DOREELEWAKhis story of losing the love of his life and mother of his three boys, Mateo, 4, Luca, 2, and baby Jonas.
MEETING on a loading dock at 4 a.m. isn’t the most romantic of situations, but that’s where I first saw the woman who took my breath away. In 2005, Sara and I worked together on a TV show about wine that was filming in Napa, Calif. A couple of months after we met, we were together. I knew I would marry her, and five years later, I did.
I was working behind the scenes on various TV shows and Sara’s career had gone off like a rocket. She went from being Conan O’Brien’s assistant to a producer for Food Network. She’d been nominated for two Daytime Emmys and won a James Beard Award for the cooking show “Extra Virgin,” starring Debi Mazar and Gabriele Corcos.
Sara also loved being a mom to our Mateo, who was born in 2012. After our second son, Luca, was born two years later, she decided to give up her career to raise the kids.
We were thrilled by the news last fall that we would be adding one more boy to our family. Jonas arrived on Wednesday, March 8. Sara’s gynecologist, Dr. Zhanna RutsteinShulina, would always say how she aced her pregnancies. But this delivery was tough — she was in a lot of pain and there was no time for a full epidural. She kept saying, “I can’t.”
That night at the hospital, we were so happy. But the next day, she was vomiting and had belly pain. After the other deliveries, Sara had snapped back. This was different.
On Thursday, Mateo and Luca came to visit. We didn’t know it would be the last time they saw their mom.
By Friday, the day Sara and Jonas were scheduled to go home, the pain had spread to her back and was getting worse. “She can’t walk to the bathroom, she’s not leaving,” I told the staff. Things weren’t getting better on Saturday. Sara loved Boston Market, so I tried feeding her mashed potatoes from the restaurant, but she feebly ate only a few bites.
I returned home late that night to relieve Sara’s dad, who had been taking care of Mateo and Luca. Sunday morning at 5:15, the phone rang. I picked it up to hear Sara scream, “I need you!” By the time I arrived 45 minutes later, my wife was as limp as Jell-O. Her heart rate was through the roof and her blood pressure was shockingly low.
Sara’s organs were backing up and doctors saw a uterine bacterial infection, so they prepped for an emergency hysterectomy.
Sara kept motioning for me to pull the oxygen mask off her face so I could kiss her. She told me in a weak voice, “I love you.” It was the last thing she said to me.
After two long hours, the doctors said: “Sara didn’t do as well as we wanted. We need to do another surgery.” They told me, too, that her limbs were dying. “We may have to amputate her arms and feet. And she may not come out of this surgery.”
That night I stayed in the hospital by Sara’s side, trying to hold it together as she remained intubated and unconscious. Monday morning, the staff started prepping for the second surgery, but it was too late — Sara’s heart gave out.
My beautiful Sara, who was healthy and never did a drug in her life, gone. What would I tell my sons? What would I tell my newborn, who would never get to know her?
A day later, I talked to Mateo and Luca in their beds. “Mommy got really sick at the hospital and she died,” I told them, tears streaming down my face. “Mommy’s not coming home.”
Mateo said, “You’re joking, Daddy — Mama’s coming home with Jonas tomorrow.” Luca just hugged me. Now, before he goes to bed, he kisses a photo of his mom.
The outpouring from friends and strangers has been tremendous. The GoFundMe page that our friends set up has humbled me more than I can say, with nearly $175,000 raised for our family. Conan O’Brien and his team donated $20,000. One friend even organized a breast milk drive, buying a freezer where we can store donated milk. Sara nursed both boys for more than a year each and it was important to her, so it’s important to me.
Sara and I were the longest employees of [talk-show host] Gordon Elliott’s production company, and he took the news very hard. At the wake, we were forehead to forehead, and just cried.
I’m a line producer at the ABC show “The Chew,” and all the hosts made a very generous donation to our family. One of them, Mario Batali, offered to have us over for dinner in May, and make it an annual tradition. That means everything. You don’t know how much you’re loved until something like this.
We are awaiting the autopsy results, as doctors still don’t know exactly why Sara died. But a few days ago, one of her doctors told me, “After that day, I wanted to quit being a doctor.” And they see it all.
Before Sara died, I sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand, stroking her hair.
I told her, “I’ll take care of the boys. The boys are going to be OK.” She gave me my training for what my boys need right now.