Ruby Girl, asleep in her Daddy's arms. Light pink favorite jammies on.

Looking back is hard. But, back is the only way I can look to remember her. Everyday I think about what we were doing a year ago. Where we in the hospital? At home? Was it a good day? Did I enjoy her? Did I enjoy Kate? Was I a good mom to my little girls that day?

 I am thankful that most days were good days for us. Even the ones in the hospital. Somewhere deep inside, I must have know. I must have known I needed to enjoy every moment of her...of my life for those months. I am thankful that the prompting I had, that we were going to lose her, was only the day before she left. I was always so hopeful, and it made our 7 months together enjoyable. I honestly did not imagine the worst. Of course, there were moments of overwhelming grief for our situation, and deep sadness for all that Ruby would have to endure, but I didn't fear for her life more than a few times.

Where were we a year ago today? We were home as a family. We worked in our tiny yard together.  Ruby hung out with Matt in the sling. Kate ran in and out of the house. I probably bathed her, and held her and nursed her. I probably played with Kate. Kate must have snuggled with Ruby on the couch. Matt held Ruby, and Kate was snuggled under his free arm. We were always so thrilled to be home, as a family. It was a rare perspective we had. We just longed to be in our home, together, just being a family.

It's hard NOT to look back, because it was a happy 7 months we had with Ruby in our family. But we are also looking forward. We are anxiously waiting to be with our Ruby again. We are anxious to have our little family all together again. We are moving forward, one step closer to Ruby everyday.

Family of Four

We had just pulled into the garage after a long busy day. The sun was just about to say "goodnight" as Kate would say. As Matt unbuckled Kate from her carseat, I made my way into the house, empty handed. Like a ton of bricks had just been dropped on my heart, I fell into pieces.

My mind quickly realized that I should be caring a sleepy Ruby into the house. I should be walking up the stairs, into her nursery and changing her into some cute jammies, and then putting her into her crib. It has been 9 months since I have done that, but it just seemed that night that she was so obviously missing from our family routine.

There have been times when I have felt her presence really strong. The temple is one of those places. It has happened a few times. My heart practically leaps with joy, and I want to just stay there forever. At the Run for Ruby, when Matt, Kate and I were just about to finish, I knew she was there with us. At my nephews baptism, I was practically looking around the room, I was so sure I would see her, because I felt her so strongly.

Last night we went to the park across the street at 9, way passed bedtime, because Kate wanted to play with Daddy. She has just been gifted a fancy light-up bouncy ball, and wanted try it out in the dark. Even with bare-feet on the cold wet grass, she giggled as she chased and threw her ball in her jammies. I jumped on Matt's back, and he took off running with me. We were all laughing, the stars were out, and I thought, this is pretty close to perfect....if we just had Ruby here. And then the thought quickly came to me, "Of course she is here, she wouldn't want to miss out on this fun family memory."And I was ok. I felt like I was ok to have fun, and not feel guilty of sad that she was not there. Because she was, I just knew it.

I think a lot of the times we are missing her the most, she is probably near us. I find a lot of comfort in thinking that she is a very active participant in our family still. I wish I could feel her more often. I wish I was more sensitive to feeling when she was close. I am learning that even though I might not feel her close, she is here.