Missing our Ruby

As we drove home for a little family vacation late last night, Kate woke up in her carseat crying. Her legs hurt, she had a bad dream, and then...through tears, "Mom, you know who I reeeeally miiiissss? Ruby." And then the tears fell faster. 

Once we got home, I got her into bed, and wrapped her up in my arms. She quickly fell asleep, peaceful. I watched that big baby of mine for a long time, just sleeping. She is a "baby" in so many ways. She still has round chubby cheeks. Her hands are still dimpled. She whines, and cries. She still uses a special blanket, Bobos. But tonight as I watched her asleep in my arms, I saw a very mature girl. I saw a girl who longs for her baby sister. I saw a girl who has experienced a lot in her short 4 years. I saw a girl who understands trials. I saw a girl who prays hard for her family, and our hospital friends. I saw a girl who understands the basic principles of the gospel, and knows she will see her baby sister again.

 "I want to teach her how to walk Mama." She told us in the car. "I want to help her crawl too." I am glad that I can honestly tell her, with all the faith and love in my heart, "Oh, you will Kate! Just as soon as we get to see her again!" Our faith in God's plan is more than just our hope, it is Kate's as well. It makes this terrible separation a little more "do-able".

As I watched my big baby sleeping last night I realized that this separation is hard for her, just as it is for us. I have been tricking myself into thinking that she is young enough to not really remember everything. She is young enough to not pick up on the deep absence of her sister....young enough that her heart won't ache as mine does. I was wrong. Of course I was wrong...

As much as it adds to my heartache, I am glad that Kate has such a strong relationship with her sister. I am glad she remembers her. I am glad she longs for her, as painful as it is. The only thing worse than the pain, would be forgetting. And how could you ever forget this little love? 

4th

Happy 4th Birthday to my Kate Bug! You bring so much happiness and joy to our lives. We LOVE YOU!!!!

May 2011

Tomorrow Kate turns 4. 

Last year, we had been in the hospital for some time. As we got closer and closer to Kate's birthday, I became more vocal about our plans to be discharged! I was determined to be home with my big girl. 

We had a big party planned, and we made sure the hospital staff knew we would be home by the 18th! We were discharged on the evening of the 17th. We packed our car, buckled in our Ruby, and went in search of her gift. I found a steal of a deal on a Barbie car, and when we went to pick it up, they did not want to honor the price I had seen advertized. I explained our whole situation, probably though tears, and after a few minutes we were headed home with the car. 

 Through my exhaustion I decorated for Kate's birthday, determined to stick with tradition. After weeks of sleeping on a chair, all we could think about was our own bed. We crawled into bed around 1am. At 3 or 4am, Ruby was running a fever.

Her doctors told us we HAD to take her to the ER. Not even home for 12 hours, and back we went. As I sat in the local ER with Ruby, I felt so guilty I would not be there for Kate's birthday morning. By some miracle, her fever subsided, her counts were normal for her, so Ruby and I headed home. We hit the donut store on the way home, and made it home just as our birthday girl was waking up! I had done it...I was there!!

That afternoon, I was just about to start Kate's Birthday dinner preparations, and just needed to hook Ruby up to her TPN. Her PICC line would not flush. I tried everything I could. I called to get advice from the TPN nurse, and our home nurse came and gave it a try as well. The only other option was to go.....TO THE ER. So, I packed us up, and off we went....BACK to the hospital. I couldn't believe our luck! I was so frustrated. After several tries to flush her line, there was talk about her being admitted to take her PICC line out and placing a new one. A sweet nurse knew of a NICU nurse, who had a trick for these types of things. She was paged just as she was about to leave for the night. She came in, and after an hour or two, she cleared her line! We were back in business. We missed her birthday dinner, but made it home in time for cake! I remember Matt falling asleep on the couch holding Ruby, while Kate opened presents, and I said, "Matt, we can do this! 30 more minutes, and we can sleep! We gotta power through this one!" And we did.

This year, things are different. I am here, busy and preparing for her birthday. I have a lot of extra time for those things now. I look back on last year, and realize that we were pretty much the super mom/dad that I wrote about last week. It is amazing the amount of strength that was given to Matt and I, to be there physically, and emotionally for BOTH of our girls when we really wanted to be.

 A tender mercy, indeed.

What I have learned about being a Mother.

I Needed to be Super Mom.

 

It had been seven months, to the day, since we had sent our seven month-old daughter back to Heaven. I was driving with my three year old in the back seat, when she said, “Remember when Grammy was my mom, and Grandpa was my Dad?” The tears welled up in my eyes, and a familiar sting returned to my heart. “Yes, Kate, I remember that.” Was it guilt? Was it regret? I tried to wrap my head around these emotions that I had not dealt with for seven months. As I made my way through traffic I recalled those long months in the hospital, of not only caring for my dying baby, but also trying to still be a mother to my sweet three year old.

I vividly remember Kate’s first day of swim lessons as if it was yesterday. Not because I was there, but because I wasn’t. I snuck out of Ruby’s hospital room, and Face-Timed Kate in a sterile hallway for a few minutes before her lesson started. Her hair was in braids, and she wore a little cover-up over her pink swimsuit. Her eyes were a little teary, because she was nervous about her first lesson. I found myself in a place, I never imagined, in huge hospital with a very sick baby down the hall, and on the phone was frightened three year old, needing to hear my voice and be reassured. They both needed me in that moment, and I had never felt so torn. Being a mom should come with the ability to be two places at once, because right then, I needed to be Super Mom.

I learned a lifetime of lessons on motherhood during those short months of feeling torn between my two daughters. I learned that I can’t always be the kind of mother I want to be, exactly when I want to be. I learned that no one knows my children like I do, and no one needs me like my children do. But the most important thing I learned about motherhood was to simply love my child, and that was something that I could do, no matter what my circumstances were.

I have the unfortunately perspective of losing a child. I wish my life was busy with two, little daughters, but instead, I have a new vision of what it really means to be a mother day in and day out. It is not just about the snotty noses, carpools and the endless demands for snacks. It is about loving my children. It is about giving my whole self to them. It is about forgetting the world, the expectations, and the “To-Do” lists. It’s about getting down on the floor, and really playing. It is about taking a few extra minutes to inhale your sleeping infant. It is about singing lullabies and whispering “I love you’s”. I have learned the difference between mothering, and being a mother.

My role as a mother has not been what I thought it would be. I needed to hand off my mothering duties for one daughter, as I painfully watched the second, slowly slip from this world. But I loved both children with everything that I had in me, and in turn, they have taught me what it is to love, and to fight, and to hope, and ultimately, how to be a mother.

Thank you Stephanie, for posting this on your blog! 

My Sleeping Girls

Looking back at my photos from July 18th, I can tell it was a good day. There are pictures of Kate dressed up in princess clothes, Ruby taking cat naps, and sisters watching cartoons together.

I appreciated those days to the fullest. I felt SO lucky to be home. I felt so lucky to care for Ruby at home. I felt so thankful to be with Kate full time. I was soaking in my life.

I remember that night very clearly. I was exhausted from that day. Caring for Rubes at home was a lot of work for me. Being home meant I had all the medical things to worry about, on top of being a mommy to Kate and Ruby. And a wife to my Matt. And keeping the house clean, and dinner made. It was a lot.  I remember walking down the hall to check on the girls before I fell into bed that night. I checked on Kate first.

  I took this photo:

 

And then I slipped into Ruby's room and took this photo:

 

I will never forget the feeling of complete contentment I felt as I walked back down the hall into my room. I know I must have had a smile on my face. I just felt so lucky. And so proud to be a mother to my daughters. It was such a moment of intense feelings, that I knew I would never forget it.

It was one of the last nights that Ruby spent in our home.

 Each night after I check on Kate, I still go into Ruby's room. I usually look into her crib, and imagine her laying there, like she was not too long ago. As I walk down the hall to my room, I remember the night I felt so content. I have a gaping hole in my heart where I know contentment should reside. But, what hasn't changed is how proud and lucky I am to have been chosen as a mother to my two beautiful daughters.

Ruby Jane Taylor

We have been very exited to share this short film with everyone. 

We miss our Ruby girl every minute of every day. We are so thankful for all the love we have been given over the passed year. We are grateful for the overwhelming support for Ruby, our family, and the Foundation, as we continue to fight for cause of organ donation in Ruby's honor. Everyone that has learned about Ruby, been inspired, made a change, and shared her story, has helped carry on her mighty legacy. We hope you will continue to tell her story, by sharing this video.

Background on the video:

In the fall, a motion photography production company called Nels-Ole, contacted us about filming a short video about Ruby. In January, they flew here from Minnesota, and we filmed "Ruby's Story". These amazingly talented people donated all of their time and talent in making this video. We are so excited to have her story recorded in a way that we can easily share it with many people. We hope that you will learn more about Ruby, and our family, and share her story!

Inspired by Ruby

On Janurary 7th, 2012, more than 1,000 people gathered in Rancho Santa Margarita, CA to honor Ruby. The first annual, Run for Ruby was held just two days after Ruby would have turned 1 year old. 

People were asked how Ruby has inspired them, and this was their response.

Filmed and Edited by: Nels-Ole Creative, a Motion Photography Production Company

My Kate

Ruby passed away just after midnight on a Friday. We arrived home, empty handed, sometime around 4 or 5am. We cried ourselves to sleep. Sleep was something I thought would never come, but 7 months of physical and emotional exhaustion forced our bodies to rest, if only for a couple of hours. Waking up that morning was the worst morning of my life. I was first confused to be waking up in my own bed. After I realized why I was at home, and not at the hospital, I could not breath. "My baby died...today."

I remember hearing Matt downstairs throwing things away...all of her medical supplies. I remember my sister holding me as I sobbed and wailed in my bed. I am not sure how I was able to get up, but I somehow did. 

And then I remembered I was still a parent. I still had a child here. I needed my Kate more than anything in that moment. I needed to feel her warm skin, and feel her breath against my cheek. My brothers brought her home that morning. Matt and I took her in our room, and told her about her sweet sister. I am not sure if she will remember that moment when she is grown, but it is something I will never forget, telling my daughter that her baby sister has gone to heaven...

The first few weeks were really hard with Kate. She had lost all of her trust in me. She was use to me packing her things at a moments notice, and dropping her off to my parents, as we quickly made our way to the hospital. We would go days, and one time, I think even a week without seeing her. Matt and I would trade off at the hospital, but when I was home with Kate, it was hard to enjoy my time, because I was so worried about Ruby. Kate was pushed to my back burner, and I  paid for it. 

All I wanted was to be needed by her. I needed to feel purpose as a mother. I felt beaten, broken, and striped of my role as a mother. When Kate would fall and cry, she did not want me. She would run straight passed me, into the arms of my mom, or sister, or a cousin. I didn't blame her. She had built her own little walls to protect herself from her unpredictable life.

I spent a lot of time reassuring her. I spent a lot of time praying that she would trust me again. But I was also spending a lot of time grieving. Grieving left me little energy to play dolls. It left me little motivation to make favorite meals, or even to speak while we ate dinner. I kept thinking about a post I wrote about "perspective". I was feeling guilt for not enjoying my daughter with a new found love and appreciation, and throwing everything aside to be the best mother. I just couldn't do it while grieving so deeply. 

Today things are a little easier, but my role as Ruby's mother is so emotionally draining, I have to fight to be there for Kate. I thought the feeling of being torn between my two girls would be over when we returned home. I was wrong.

 Every night I pass Ruby's room and go into Kate's room to adjust her sheets, and pull her covers up. Sometimes I lay down and hold her as she sleeps, thankful to have a healthy daughter, still here. My motivation to teach her the gospel, and about eternal families is a major priority. If my testimony has anchored me through this storm, I must give her the same knowledge to form her own testimony of our Heavenly Father's will. A lot is required of a mother, and I am slowly making my way toward being the mother I want to be.

Kate is a strong little girl. She, in a lot of ways, has saved me. I needed her, more than she needed me I think. She pulls me out of bed every morning, gives me the motivation I need to start my day, and reminds me that I am still a mother. She reminds me all day long, that I am not only a mother to her, but to Ruby as well.  She gives me joy.

I am thankful to my Father in Heaven, for placing Kate so perfectly into our family.

 He knew we would need her. And I think she needs us too. ;)

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.

Mine Forever

Photo taken by Ruby's Daddy

If days could be weighted, Ruby's days in our arms would outweigh her days in heaven. The scale would be tipping toward us. But, just for today. Tomorrow it will be 7 months and 1 week since we said goodbye to our sweet daughter. The 7 months and 1 week we spend with her seemed like a lifetime. It is hard to believe we have almost spent as much time away from her, as we got to spend with her.

I have been anxious about this day approaching for awhile now. I have just felt like I needed to be able to say, "she was mine longer than she has been gone." Tomorrow that changes.

I remember feeling something similar about a month or two before she passed away. We had just been admitted for maybe the 6th time to UCLA, and I was still only hopefully and very confident that she would get a transplant. At that point I was more worried about getting the call, and how scary transplant would be. Running out of time, was just never something that really worried me. I vividly remember holding her and feeling like my heart was gong go burst with love, and having an overwhelming feelings to write my feelings for her while I could still use the present tense. The thought seemed strange to me, but I followed my instinct, and wrote about her that day. I am glad I did.

In my situation, I grasp onto anything I can that is related or significant in ANY way to her. I gained 50 pounds when I was pregnant with Kate, and was very motivated and anxious to lose that weight after she was born. I still have about 20ish pounds of weight from Ruby's pregnancy I need to loose, and I have zero motivation to lose it! I know I need to, and I want to, but I have taken no action to actually do it. Am I bring sentimental about baby weight?! It is more than baby weight. It's making any changes really. It's moving on that is scary. Her bath towels are still hanging haphazardly behind the bathroom door and I dread ever moving them. There are still little smudges of some medicine on her changing table, and I can't bare to clean it. I want those little physical reminders of her there.

I guess really what I am saying is that I am possessive. Since so much was taken away, I cling for dear life to anything that is still within grasp. Even if it is an obscure about of time, baby weight, or dirty smudges.

I am forced, for a time, to settle for these little things...

So for tonight, I will say, "She was mine longer than she has been gone."

Even as I write that I realize just how funny it really sounds, because of my clear and strong belief and knowledge that she was mine longer before I ever held her, and that she will be mine for longer than I can even imagine.

I would be lost without my knowledge of His great and perfect plan for me.

Of course He would create a way for us to be together forever.

The Sheet Drawer

I go into Ruby's room everyday. I open her blinds in the morning, and close them, and turn on a light at night. I don't always spent a lot of time in there, and in the past couple of months, hardly any time at all.
Today I rocked in her chair. I went through her clothes, and headbands, and stuffed animals. I hugged her blankets, and sobbed into her burp cloths. I was needing to feel a physical connection to my baby, so I touched and smelled, and looked at her things.
I opened her bottom dresser drawer, which I had not done yet. That was the extra sheets and blanket drawer. Looking at her extra sheets brought back memories that I had forgotten about. I remember going into Pottery Barn with her, and picking out some extra sheets, because she was constantly spitting up her orange vitamins on them, or throwing up.
It reminded of so many long and hard nights that Matt, Ruby and I went through together. Ruby would cry, and we would both shoot about of bed, and immediately, almost like a robot, begin to work. It was really hard having a sick baby, but at the time, we didn't realize that. We just knew what needed to be done, and we would do it.
If she had thrown up, it was probably about an hour process before we could get her back into her bed again. One of us would pick her up, and the other would grab her TPN pump then we would start sterilizing her line. Matt would be handing me alcohol swabs, and then get the saline flush all ready. I would grab the saline and flush her line, as he would remind me to close the clamp. A perfect team. Then as I would take off her yucky jammies, and clean her up, take her temp, Matt would strip the bed, stain-treat the sheets before he would put them into the washer. Then we would usually need to give her a little milk which needed to be warmed, and then have oil added, and a few meds mixed in. Matt would return upstairs with milk, more medical supplies, and we would begin to get her hooked back up. Sterilizing her line, connecting her PICC to the tubing, and then resetting the pump. We would put the tubing inside her shirt sleeve and down her bottoms, securing the line in the velcory part of her diaper, and out the bottom of her pants. This way she would not be able to grab it, and it would stay away from her neck. As Matt would feed her the bottle, I would remake her crib. As he laid her down, I held the pump, and we would get her all situated and comfy, kiss her and tell her we loved her, and turn off the light. We would then need to write down the meds she took, how much milk she drank, how much fluid she threw up, and if she had a wet/poopy diaper.
Sometimes, this would happen 2 or 3 times a night. It wasn't just a quick diaper change by the light of the night light. All the lights would be on, upstairs and down. The washer would be running, Matt going up and down the stairs, the microwave beeping, and us yelling back and forth between upstairs and down. I never remember us complaining to each other though. It was just want we had to do, so we did it. In a way, I think doing all of that stuff made us feel good about our roles as her parents. There was not much we could do to make her better, so we took care of her in the best way we knew how, and I think we took pride in that.
Opening that drawer today, did not bring back painful memories, but sweet memories of me and my sweet husband serving our daughter. We were such a good team, and we worked so hard and so long trying to make those 7 months, and one week, the most comfortably for Ruby, and also for Kate. It was all we were; parents. Our girls were our only care, our only focus. They were all that mattered. Were they happy? Where they comfortable? Do they feel loved? One of us, alone, could have never parented our girls in that time, with out the other.
Those sheets remind me about what parenthood is. Teamwork, service, and love.

This life, that life.

I am constantly counting the days to some sort of anniversary. Last year, today was the last day that I lived my normal life. I had a crazy two year old, and a newborn. I was just getting into the swing of things with my two kiddos at home. I don't know if I talked about this before on here, but I remember very clearly sitting on the couch with Ruby in my arms, and saying to Matt something along the lines of, "We are so blessed, that sometimes it scares me. I am always wondering when our trial is going to hit." It was anything but comical when only a few days later my greatest fear came true.3.1.11

We took Ruby to her 2 month check up and I had a list of a few things I was worried about. I remember thinking that I never did that with Kate, and wondered if I was becoming more paranoid with each child, instead of the other way around. After discussing her jaundice, her doctor wanted us to take her to the lab for a blood test. It was around nap time, and I remember asking him, "We can just do that tomorrow right?" I was so confident that everything was fine, that I went home and put my two girls down for a nap. That day I was worried about napping, and a behavior plan for Kate.
3.2.11

The next morning, I dressed all three of us (a real accomplishment!) and headed to the lab. Since she was so tiny, they pricked her heel, and had to squeeze the blood out. She was crying so hard, and I was holding her down with both hands, I let her suck on my chin. I was desperate to do anything to make her stop crying, and to give her some comfort. After several different pricks and a lot of squeezing to fill up the tubes, we were on our way. I remember laughing when I got into the elevator, because I had two giant hickeys on my chin!
3.3.11

We stopped at Cafe Rio on the way home. I had always stopped there after my OB appointments, and it was fun to actually have Ruby with us this time. I think we got Cafe Rio to go, and I am assuming I came home and put the girls down and enjoyed my lunch, and my alone time.
Around 5 or so that night, our doctor called. He said that there was some elevated numbers, and that it indicated there was some type of problem with her liver. He had already made calls, and we were going to be admitted the next morning for further testing. I remember asking him, "Is this serious?" I assumed he would say no, we just want to be safe. That wasn't the answer I got. And is the moment that my world began to shift.
We packed a bag for 2 days. We had no idea what to bring, or what we were doing, or what was ahead of us. I remember them bringing us up to our hospital room, and handing me a blue hospital gown for her with little blue clouds on it. That was enough to make me want to run the other direction. Whoever escorted us up to the room, said that a doctor would be by at sometime, we can't feed Ruby and then left.3.4.11 (me, before)

There was only one chair, so we took turns standing, and then finally realized the chair pulled out into a "bed". We kept looking at each other and saying, "What are we doing here?" The minutes turned into hours, and we still had not seen anyone. "Let's just get out of here! Everything is fine." We felt so silly. We had no idea what we were doing. She was hungry and wanted to nurse. The only thing to calm her down was to let her suck on our fingers. The first trick we learned, and little did we know it was something we would have to do to sooth our baby time and time again.

After while, I couldn't stand to see Ruby in that silly gown, so I changed her back into a cute outfit, and that was pretty much the last time she ever put one on again!

The days and weeks to follow were in one word, horrible. I think that I went through much of my grieving for her sickness in those first two weeks. We did not leave the hospital. We slept on the one pull out chair together. I don't remember ever going to the cafeteria there. It was the boot camp that was preparing me for the long months ahead. Now I was worried about one thing, and one thing only; my daughter's life.
(Me, after)

One year ago today...I had no idea. I had no idea the amount of love I could have for my children and husband. I had no idea what a "hard day" really meant. I had no idea how strong we can be, when needed.
Looking at myself 365 days ago I can say my love is deeper. My testimony is richer. My faith is strong. My hope is my salvation. Ruby is to thank for these things. She changed me for the better, and continues to do so every single day.

rambling thoughts...

If there is anything I have learned about grief, it is that it is constantly changing. Everyday is something different.

The last two months we have taken a lot of necessary time to just "be". It has been really good for me. I wouldn't say it has been healing...but it has been good for me to process my thoughts and feelings, and just take time to think without distractions that we had been using the previous months. Healing is a funny word when talking about grief. Healing to me, has always meant something damaged returning to normal function. That is something that I believe will never happen for me. Nor, do I want it to. Really, how could my life ever return to what it was before. I believe we are slowly creating a new normal for our life, and for our family, but it will never (at least in this life), be the type of normal that most people have, and that I once had.

I envy the mother with my old problems. I envy the blissful mother at the park. I see pictures of myself, even from 7 months ago, when we were in the thick of it, and I envy that girl with the two beautiful daughter by her side. Her eyes were different, and joy-filled.

I have changed. My heart has changed. My testimony has changed. My perspective has changed. I have changed physically. A friend that I have made, that never knew Ruby, saw a video of us from the summer, and made the comment that I that I was a different person then. I was driving when I listened to the message, and I had to pull over, because what she said hit me so hard, because it was so true.

As I write this, I am realizing a lot about what I have been going through these past couple of months. Not only has my life been turned upside down, but my whole self as well. I am trying to figure myself out. I am not sure where I fit in. I am not sure how I will react to certain situations. My friends have taken on different roles. Some people have slowly shied away from us, and the unexpected have stepped up and become like family.

A year ago I was a totally different person than I am today. And that is a lot to process and figure out in such a short amount of time.

I know that the pain will lessen. But, Ruby will always be physically missing in our family, and nothing will ever take her place, nor should it. I have faith that our new normal will be created eventually, and we will find our new way though this life. It just takes time, so time is what we are taking.

"In our song"

Kate talks about her Ruby everyday. I love it. She has such a sweet relationship with her sister, even still.
As we walked out the door yesterday to go to "Ruby's Place", Kate said she wanted to make a card for her sister.

She worked very hard the whole way there, and then when we got there, she dictated to Matt what she wanted the card to say. It was such a sweet memory, that I hope I will never forget.
Kate loves her little sister so much, and nothing will change that.



"Dear Ruby,
I love you once a time. We love you because you are just a Ruby girl! We love your because we are family. We love you Ruby, because we are an eternal family. We love your because you are in our song.
Love,
Kate"