Her Leaves

I have not loved the changing of the season. I knew it meant it was just that much further away from us seeing her, and that upset me, but I knew it was something more than that.
This morning, I was pulling out to take Kate to preschool, and the leaves were being racked up in my front yard. At that moment, I knew. Those leaves were leaves that Kate, Ruby and I laid under during the hot summer. Those are the leaves that shaded us in our backyard planting while Ruby sat in her bouncy. Those are the leaves that she watched while laying on the couch. Those are the very leaves that we walked under when I took her outside to get her to stop fussing. It took a lot for me not to run over and explain just how precious those leaves were to me.
We have big, tall windows in our family room. We moved in this winter, and the trees were bare. I remember coming home from a 2 week stay in the hospital in the Spring, and the trees had tiny light green buds all over. It was symbolic for a lot of things for me. It seemed like every time we would return after a hospital stay, the leaves were the first thing we noticed. They were always greener, always bigger. Maybe since my baby was getting weaker, and sicker, perhaps that was a little hope for me. I don't know, but I have an attachment to those leaves!
At the park the other day, I had the same feeling. We spent a lot of time at that park. I sat on the bench, under the trees, nursing, and watching Kate play. The leaves will all fall. And new leaves will come. But those leaves have never watched us play. Those leaves have never seen those sparkly blue eyes. They have never created the shade that danced across her face. They aren't hers.
I know this must sound so strange. But, it is how I feel.
I feel the same way when I toss out food I bought when Rubes was with me at the grocery store. Or when I emptied the bottle of shampoo I used at the hospital. Even buying a new shirt, I feel like, Ruby never got to see this shirt! I guess these are all just signs that life moves on. The leaves change. Food goes bad. Who knew those things could be such a trigger?
I would be forever content rewinding to those hot summer days, laying under the trees with my girls.

When I vacuum.

Everywhere I turn, I am reminded that she is gone. I can't escape the constant reminders.
When I am vacuuming, I get to the spot where her swing was, or her bouncy seat, and my heart breaks.
I was cleaning out my pantry last week. In the back of one of the lower shelves, I found all her baby food, and puffs I had bought before she was even born. I was so excited for her to come to our family. Bananas were her favorite, so kept one in the cardboard, it just felt right.
Every night when we tuck Kate into bed, my stomach is just doing flips. I use to have two kids to tuck into bed. I use to nurse Ruby and get her into her jammies, and rock and sing her to sleep, while Matt got Kate all ready. Then we would have family prayer together, and Kate and Ruby would snuggle for a little while. It is just so obvious that she is not there.
Doing the laundry is strange. Ruby went through a lot of outfits in a day. The amount of laundry is so much smaller, and a lot less pink. I miss folding those tiny onesies.
Kate started preschool. When I signed her up 6+ months ago, I was excited to have that one on one time with just Ruby. Every time I get into my car after dropping Kate off, my car seems SO empty. I think, "What am I suppose to do now?" That is always the moment when it is very obvious that my life is not what I thought it was going to be.
Family outings are getting hard for me. Kate always declares, "Family HUG!" or says, "the whole family!" And my breath catches. It feels strange to be able to be out all day, and not worry about naps or bottles, or TPN, or meds. I WISH we had those things to worry about. Being spontaneous is not very fun anymore.
I know she is with us in spirit. I really think that she is around us all of the time, and participating in things we do, and making memories right along side us. BUT, I want her there physically as well. I want her in my arms. I want to be busy and stressed out, and tired and have spit up in my hair.
I see mothers everyday that look so upset and unhappy.
Do you know how lucky you are to have spit up in your hair? Do you know how lucky you are to have TWO crying babies in your cart? Do you know how lucky you are that you get to buy diapers? Do you know how lucky you are to have circles under your eyes from being up all night with your baby, and not from crying all night from missing your baby? Do you know how lucky you are that you get to nurse your baby? It takes everything in me not to walk up to mother's and just make sure they know!
Even though Ruby was just a baby, she had such a big place in our lives. I like that. I like that there are reminders around our home of her. It is painful, but it helps me feel like she really was and IS a part of our family.

Wristband and Picture Notice:

We apologize for the delay in shipping out wristbands and pictures. Due to the overwhelming response we ran out of wristbands and had to order more which are scheduled to arrive around the 18th. At that time we have volunteers coming to help us pack and ship them. So again, sorry for the delay and you should have it by the end of the month! Thanks!

Between the lines

There are certain conversations that are just very painful and I just want to scream and pull my hair out. But I just breathe and breathe, and then I don't feel like I am dying after while. I give the answers they are looking for, but inside I am having a battle with myself because I want to pour my heart out and make them understand.

Long story short, our insurances use to pay for massages on our old plan, and I had some I never used because I was pregnant, and had to use them up by a certain date. So, for the past 3 weeks, I have gone weekly. The massage therapist always asks me, "Are you hurting any where in particular?" UM YESSSS!!! And then comes, "Are there any injuries I should know about?" YES, A TERRIBLE INJURY! Then I spend the next 10 minutes taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. I just want to be a lady who comes in and is sore from lifting her children and pushing on them on the swings all afternoon. I want my injury to be my leg or arm, or anything but my soul.

I just got off the phone with someone in the medical field. She said, "And you had a neonatal death, correct?" Well, my beautiful, sweet, funny, and amazing daughter passed away 8 weeks ago today. She was 7 months and 1 week old. Is that what you were referring to? And then she later asked me how many weeks I was when I miscarried. I CARRIED HER in my ARMS! She was 7 months and one week old! And then went on to ask how many pregnancy I have had. Two, a 3 year old, and Ruby. "So you only have one child?" NO! I just told you. I HAVE TWO.

I have two children. I have a deep and serious injury that may never ever heal. Can someone make me a shirt?

9 Months

My little Rubes would have been 9 months old today. I can't help but wonder about what her tricks would be this month! I think she would have had a lot more teeth. That girl had 3 teeth, and was going strong! If one of those liver would have worked out, she would have been home and healthy by now. I think she would have been sitting up, and maybe trying to crawl. She loved applesauce and bananas, and by this point, I am sure she would have been eating lots of other yummy things. She was a pretty good sleeper when she felt good. I think she would have been sleeping through the night for sure. Baby girl loved to nurse, and I am sure she would be still loving that.
You know what stinks? It stinks that I have to wonder about these things. It sticks that she is not here in our home to physically see and watch, and laugh with. It just plain stinks. I don't want anyone under the wrong impressions that I am doing this well. It is SO hard. It is hard for 99% of the day. There are a few moments, sometimes only one, that I can understand. I am thankful for that relief in the grief.
Ruby, you are truly amazing. Everyday I am still learning from you. I know you are hard at work on the other side, and making sure your family and friends and being cared for. I know you are our little angel, and touching our lives in more ways than we understand or notice. I love you so much Rubers.

What Makes it Bearable

We went on a little getaway for the weekend with my parents. Everyone left the pool for a minute and I was people watching. I immediately spotted a baby girl, around Ruby's age, sound asleep on her mom's chest. The tears started to flow, and then came the body convulsions. When you feel like your a missing your insides, it makes you convulse I've learned. It is so hard to look around and see so many healthy, happy babies, and then feel the heaviness that is my empty arms.

Just a few minutes later, I received an email from a mother who had just lost her son days before. She shared with me that the choice to donate his organs, were made easier because of Ruby. I can't even describe the joy that brings to me. It is hard to understand most of the time why Ruby is gone, and why we have to endure this, but her impact on thousands leaves me speechless. It is hard not to feel comforted and more peaceful hearing a story like that.

And today, I bumped into a mom with a cute baby at Target. I have never met her before, but she shared with me how much Ruby's story has touched her life, and made her want to be a better mom. She also said she was now an organ donor. I tried hard not to cry in the middle of Target, but the tears came.

That is my Ruby girl touching people left and right. I am so proud of my daughter. I am so lucky, in so many ways.

When I see and hear the tangible ways that Ruby has touched lives, it reminds me of her purpose on this earth, and reminds me that our Heavenly Father truly has a plan for every one of us. Ruby has a pretty amazing plan. I am so happy to be a part of that.

I love you Rubers.

Missing her Ruby

The last time Kate held her baby sister. It was a very special moment, and one I will never forget.

Every morning I walking into Ruby's nursery, and opening up the blinds, and say,
"Good morning Rubes!"
Most of the time Kate is with me, and she says it too.
At night we close her blinds and turn on the lights in her room.
It just makes us feel good.
This morning when Kate and I walked into her room, Kate saw the box of Ruby's clothing and blankets that was just returned to us. Her whole demeanor changed. She ran her hands across the box, and gently touched her clothes. She looked up at a picture of Ruby and then back down to her things. I asked her, "What are you feeling Kate?" She looked at me and very quietly said, "I am feeling very.....I am feeling like I really want to see her."
So we sat down on the floor and went through her things and talked about Ruby. I pulled her into my lap, and we just rocked and were quiet until Kate said, "I really miss that Ruby."
Me too Kate, me too.

Nap on my chest

I remember this perfect day, it was about 8 months ago. Ruby was so tiny. Kate was so thrilled about her baby sister. Matt had gone back to work. I was feeling a little more like myself again, and so content with my role as a mother and wife. I was proud of myself because I had gotten ready that morning, and gone to the park with the girls. After a fun morning, I put Kate down for a nap, and nursed Ruby Jane.


I was about to lay her down in her cradle, but I just couldn't! She feel asleep on my chest. She was so sound asleep, and was curled right into me. She also had my necklace in the palm of her hand. She loved playing with my necklace. I thought I would just enjoy holding her for a bit, and then lay her down and get things done. But, I had a little voice tell me to just hold her. So I did. I held her for 3 straight hours while she slept. Kate slept the whole time. So it was just me, and my sleeping newborn on my chest. Oh how thankful I am that I did not go lay her down. I would not be sitting here recalling that perfect afternoon. Oh how I wish I could go back to that day.

Preschool

Kate has been excited for Preschool for months and months.
I actually remember taking a walk with her when she was probably 20 months old, and she heard a school bell, and said, "I want to go to school!" We have been counting down to this day, and it finally came. We laid out her clothes the night before, and talked about how to be a friend, and she was beaming! She was so excited all morning, but then got really shy when we walked in. It was so fun to see her in a school setting, and interacting with all the kids. I am so thankful for my big preschooler!













This girl is impossible to get a normal picture of! But I sure love her silly faces.

One Month

It has been one month. One month since my world changed forever. Well, to be more accurate, it has been 8 months, and 2 weeks since my world changed forever.
We spent the weekend being spiritually nourished. The feelings of peace were welcomed, and the things I have learned have given me much to think about.
I feel stuck. I don't want time to move forward, because it means it was been that much longer since we were with our girl. But, I want time to move forward, bringing us closer to her. I am just not ready to do anything. I am functioning. I am getting up, I am getting dressed, and I am staying busy with friends and family. I am eating. I am drinking. I am running. I am breathing. But that is really it. I am going though the motions, and trying to avoid the emotions.
Last night, when all was quiet in our home, we ended up on the couch watching little videos of Ruby on our phones. That is when it hits me the hardest. Pictures or videos of us with her. She was REAL. She was our baby. We held her and bathed her and sang to her. She knew us, and loved us, and smiled and laughed at us. That is when the reality of our life hits me. We won't get that back for a long time. We have our memories. We have thousands of pictures (thank goodness I was obsessed with taking pictures of her). We even have videos. We have read books, and talks. We have talked to other families in our situation. We have talked to a general authority even. We have testimonies. We have SO much. But, we at the end of the day, we still don't have her in our arms. It doesn't matter what we do, how much we suffer, how much we learn, how much we cry or scream...she is still away from us.
So, one month out...where are we? We are here. We are just here. The longing and missing are worse. The memories of those last 48 hours, are getting foggier, thankfully. We have strengthened testimonies. We are closer as a family. But we have a huge gaping whole in our home right now.

Today I am missing Ruby so much I feel like I am slowly dying inside. We went to Target today, and just being there, walking the isles, just felt wrong. To me, going to Target was always my way of show myself that we were a normal family. We might have been hooked up to pumps, and have Ruby hidden away in her seat, but gosh darn it, we were normal.
Today I didn't feel normal. I felt like I had a big black X on my forehead. I felt so wrong to be acting like a normal little family shopping around, when all I wanted to do was cry. I could not look at the baby section. I almost went down one of the isle by habit, and when I realized I wouldn't be needing anything, it felt like a huge pit in my stomach, and a fresh wave of grief washed over my whole body.
You know where I feel the most normal these days? The cemetery, at Ruby's place. If I look sad, or I am crying, whoever is watching knows the reason why. If I am smiling and happy, whoever is watching knows I must be remembering a sweet moment.
I haven't accepted that she is gone. I am realizing this. When I allow myself to really think about what has happened, I can't describe what goes on inside of me. Sometimes I honestly think it is a dream. How could it NOT be a dream. Oh please be a bad dream. But, it is not. This is my life now.
I have moments where I think everything makes some sort of sense, and I relish those moments. I know I will get to the point where I will be more healed, and more at peace, but I am just not there yet. I feel my Father in Heaven. I feel His arms around me. But, I know there are times that he has to back up a little bit, let me feel, let me grieve, let me ask "WHY!!!?". He knows that I need those moments to heal. But he is there. He is there when I need him.

She would have been 8 months today. You know what? I am not strong. I am not doing this well. How does one grieve the lost of a child well? You don't. You survive. One excruciating second at a time. I just want her in my arms. I want to stare into her eyes, and have her look back, straight into my soul so she can feel how much I love her.

The thing about waves is that they continually come in.
Sometimes the sets are huge, and close together, other times they are small and spread out. But they are always there.

I feel like I am standing right on the edge of the water. Sometimes the tides come up, and I feel panicked, and scared. A huge wave hits me, and I am drowning. She is gone, my baby. I have to live a lifetime without her. How will I do this?

Other times, the tide is out a ways, and I see my toes in the damp sand. The pain is there, but not taking me over. I can enjoy the beauty of the ocean, and the small waves that barely reach my feet. She is always mine. Families are forever. I have 7 months worth of precious memories.

Standing at the edge of this vast ocean is something I have never experienced before, but have been preparing for my whole life. I can swim. I won't be swallowed up, even if it feels like it. I have the faith in my Savior and faith in the Plan of Happiness. That gives me the strength that I need to swim when I am drowning, and to enjoy the beauty when I am not.

Do I wish I wasn't standing in this place?
Yes.

But, I know that my Heavenly Father has me just where I should be.

Waves

Waves of pain and grief and agony seem to keep rolling in.
It seems to be the little things that set the waves into motion. Looking in the backseat of the car, and seeing only one car seat. Tucking Kate into bed, and then sitting in Ruby's empty room. Looking under the kitchen sink and finding her Burt's Baby Bees baby wash. One week I am bathing my sweet baby in my kitchen sink, and now she is gone. My mom asked me to drop my grandma off at the airport at 11am, and I automatically thought it was nap time. It is just impossible to wrap my head around. She belongs here. She belongs with me fussing and caring and loving her.
Usually when you are going through a hard time or trial, it seems like you can proactively help yourself to get though it, and then it is over at some point. I know that this missing will have to last a lifetime. That is a long time. There is no way around it, just have to go through it.
Ruby was so time and labor intensive, that it just seems too quiet around here. I went from constant go go go go, to nothing. I am trying so hard to be the mom I need to be to Kate. She took a backseat to everything for 7 months, and I know I need to gain her trust again. It is a process. This whole new life is a process. I am trying to just take it hour by hour. And most times, minute to minute.
Breath in. Breath out.

The Ruby Jane Foundation

Hi, this is Mike again. Ani and Matt have started the official movement of Ruby's legacy, "The Ruby Jane Foundation."

The foundation has a goal of promoting organ donation awareness, enacting legislation to enable families to make informed and educated decisions regarding organ donation, and to raise money to support the cause.

We have started planning a "Run for Ruby" that will hopefully take place each year on Ruby's birthday. We couldn't be more excited about this and feel like it is a great way to keep the fire burning that our little baby started. We anticipate having a 5k, 10k, and half marathon. Proceeds will go to the foundation and help us to enact the legislation we believe is necessary to help save thousands of people.

Join the movement. Join with us and help make a difference. Visit our page on Facebook and click the "like" button to receive news and updates about our mission.

Go Rubes!

Or click here:

The Ruby Jane Foundation