Happy Birthday Ruby - January 7, 2011

Continuation from January 6, 2011 (posted yesterday)

January 7, 2011. Morning came and nothing was happening. The medicine had been administered quite a few times that night. My big brother stopped by for a visit with some flowers and some much needed water. The nurse changed. The night nurse made sure to share my story. Suzanne was the day nurse. She explained to us again what would happen. They upped the dosage and at that point I asked for medicine for the “unpleasantries”. She gave it to me. Hesitant but she did. Again, I’ll spare you with why she hesitated. She administered the medicine to induce a few times that day as well. The contractions now started to get stronger. She gave me something for the pain. As soon as I took that they became even stronger. She came back with more pain meds along with the anesthesiologist who would give me the epidural should I choose to have one. I took the pain pill, the anesthesiologist still standing in the door way and with that, the pain was stronger and out Ruby came. 2:27 PM. 10 oz. 9.5” I looked at Alfonso’s tear stained face. The nurse opened up the sac, took her out, wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to me. My sweet child. She had my fingers. My lips. Alfonso’s nose. I kissed her and smelled her and stared and stared and stared. We were smiling and crying and crying and smiling. She was amazing. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her. My Dr. came and went. I had to take medicine for the nausea and vomiting (yeah I shared that one) that the pain meds had given me. The nurse took Ruby to take photos of her. My dear friend Gaby came to see us for a little while. When she left, the nurse came back with Ruby and we again sat with her. We took our own pictures. None. NONE. None make her look the way she did in person. I sang “You Are My Sunshine” to her. I talked to her. I asked her to take care of her big brother and us. I thanked her for choosing us. I never asked why. We inhaled her. Every bit of her. She amazed us. Shifts were changing, Suzanne came in and hugged us goodbye. Wished us well. We thanked her for her compassion and all of her help. We were told we could stay as long as we wanted. We sat with Ruby longer and decided it would be best to part and say goodbye to her little body. They took her and brought us a small pink box that contained the clothes they took her pictures in, a tiny diaper, a crocheted angel and a tiny ring. They also gave us an envelope that had information about loss and that contained her footprints. We got our stuff and they wheeled me out. Alfonso, our pink box and I.

That’s not how it’s supposed to happen. You’re not supposed to leave without your baby. We now had to tell everyone that knew we were pregnant that we were no longer. I would have to go back to work and face the looks of pity. I would have to face life knowing that my body didn’t do what it was supposed to do. Protect my child.

Ruby forever changed us. I’ll speak for myself, I see the world with a whole new set of eyes. I’ve always seen pregnancy as a miracle but more so now. There is no “safe” period with a pregnancy. You’re not any safer after the first trimester. I don’t take any moment for granted. The smiles in our pictures that once told a story now tell a different one. My normal became a “new normal”. My sadness became a part of my life. A part of my life that I have learned to live with. I’m more cautious on who I share my heart with. I just made myself sound bitter. I’m not. Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to explain. There’s not a day that goes by, that, that little girl doesn’t cross my mind. A small whining session turns into “Shut up Yamell. You’re blessed. It could always be worse.”

This year has been a rough journey. One that has tested me. One that has strengthened my relationship with Alfonso. One that has made me a better human being. There have been many tears. What counts though, is that I’m able to smile. I have smiled. I have a son that needs me to be strong and set an example. Being sad isn’t a weakness and I’ll never teach him that but walking through the journey that is grieving is what he’ll see. He’ll see that no matter what obstacle hits Mommy and Daddy that we’ll walk through it. Together. With God and each other. Because after every storm there is a rainbow. We are each other’s rainbows. That’s what we’ll take with us forever.

Thank you for letting me share my story. I know it’s a long one and has the potential to be longer. No story could capture every moment that we lived. My memory and my heart will continue to hold it all.

Mi querida Ruby, telling you I love you wouldn't touch how I really feel. We talk about you daily. Your little brother blames you for his foolishness. You're with us. Today we will visit you at the cemetery and share a special treat with you. Today we will honor you with everything we do. Visiting a new baby, donating money to another baby Ruby, one that is struggling in the hospital, we will light a sky lantern and send it your way, we will continue on our journey to love each other more. To complain less, but most of all to not let your loss be something we talk about with our head down. We are proud of you. We are blessed that the 22 weeks you gave us will affect us for a lifetime. Thank you for your guiding light and those daily reminders. I love you sweet Ruby. I love you.