January 6, 2011

I promised myself that I would write her story by her 1st birthday. It’s easier to tell people about it than it is to write about it. Writing forces you to sit with your thoughts. So here it is. The story of Ruby.

Today marks one year that we heard the news that would change our lives forever. I was 22 weeks pregnant with my baby girl Ruby. Her name was going to be LuzBelen Ruby. My grandmother had passed away 3 days before Christmas. Her name was Luz. We thought it’d be special to name her after my Grandma.

January 6, 2011. I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a normal day for me. I hadn’t felt her move for a few days but I hadn’t started tracking because it wasn’t time yet. I think in my heart I knew but was too scared to face what destiny had in store. I followed my normal weekday routine. Got myself and Diego ready for our day and went to work. That day I had a Dr.’s appointment. I told Alfonso he didn’t have to go because I was sure everything would be fine. I was seeing a Perinatologist in addition to my OB. For various reasons; age, prior pregnancy (Diego was a preemie), and a previous surgery. I left work early, arrived at the Perinatologist’s office and they took me back to do a routine ultrasound. One tech came in because of a duplicate test my Dr. did, they wanted to take precaution. This tech was sent in by the Geneticist. It was silent. I don’t know how long. My other ultra sounds looked so different. I knew something was wrong but prayed silently … “Diosito, acepto lo que me de. Sin preguntas. Lo dejo en su voluntad.” (God, I accept what you give me. Without questions. I’ll leave it in your hands.”) She clicked the heart beat button and what I saw was flat. She cut it off and said “I’ll be right back. Let me go get Dr. Bohman.”

Again, I prayed the same prayer and I made plans on where Diego would spend the night. What I would say when I called work. HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO TELL ALFONSO? I was calm. The nightmare begins. The Dr. came in with the Geneticist. They all silently viewed the ultrasound. The Dr. finally spoke when he walked over to me along with the u/s tech and the Geneticist, he put his hand on my arm and said words I’ll never forget, “I’m sorry. It appears your baby has passed. These things sometimes happen and we just don’t know why. Sometimes after they’re born you can tell.” They all then put their hands on me and tried to comfort me. They left the room for me to get dressed. The Geneticist and Dr. came back and told me what steps we’d be taking next. The Dr. planned and scheduled me to go to the hospital that night where they’d induce labor. Lori (the Geneticist) sat with me while I cried. She gave me a little care package that included a candle, tea, an essential oil spray and a book on miscarriages to help me feel better. My Dr. walked me out, the back way, so I wouldn’t have to see all the happy, still pregnant with live babies, women. He hugged me and asked me if I was sure I was going to be able to drive. I was. After all, I was numb. The Dr.’s office is quite a ways from my house. I didn’t stop for gas that morning because as always, I was running late for work. So I was left alone with my thoughts that long drive home and with a stop for gas to be made. I wished the whole way home that Alfonso wouldn’t call me to see how it went. He didn’t. Thank goodness. All I could think of was when we miscarried at 12 weeks how devastated he was when I delivered the news. Now at 22 weeks when we’ve found out the gender, we’ve made plans, we’ve imagined our life with her and Diego. I’d felt her move, we’d bonded. I had to tell the man with the biggest heart that my body had failed me. Again. I had to disappoint a big brother to be. The drive was eternal.

I parked, took a deep breath, got my stuff and walked in. Diego and Alfonso were laughing and playing in the kitchen. Alfonso was standing at the sink, washing dishes for me, for us I guess. He turned his head with the biggest smile, the big smile that greets me daily. I had to break his heart. I said while my voice cracked and I swallowed back tears “She’s dead.” He answered, “Que?”. “Ya se murio” I cried and bent over a chair holding back tears. He walked over to me and gave me a hug. We cried together. Diego stood between us and asked why we were crying. I didn’t answer. It wasn’t the time. Alfonso and I sat and talked and planned again, where Diego would go and started to pack for the hospital. I called to tell my parents what had happened and to ask them to please take Diego for the night, or next few nights as we weren’t sure how it would work. My Dad happened to answer the phone. I couldn’t get the words out. My grief had overcome me and the Daddy-Daughter relationship took over. I wanted him to be my hero and make it all go away like when I was a little girl. He couldn’t understand anything I was saying. He asked if it was okay to come over and was here in what seemed like two seconds.

Alfonso went in to shower and my Dad arrived. Right away he asked where Alfonso was. I told him in the shower. He moved my paperwork and other junk that had accumulated on the couch and sat down. He patted the cushion next to him and asked me to sit. I sat right next to him. He said “Ok m’ija. Ahora dime.” (Ok daughter, now tell me) So I did. Again, I said “Ya se murio.” (She died) He put his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder and cried. He cried with me and said “What can we do for you?” I asked if they’d take Diego for the night or nights to come. He said, “Of course, but what can we do for YOU?” “Nothing Dad, just be there.” He told me to have faith in God. I did. I do. We sat in silence. It was a special moment between my Dad and I. He didn’t surprise me with his actions but it was a side of my Dad that I had never seen. Such a tender moment. He knew the right things to say. He didn’t say too much. He said just enough. Made me feel loved. He didn’t stay long because my Mom was at home worried. She didn’t come with him because at the time she had hurt herself on the way back from my Abuelita Luz’s funeral.

I made more phone calls. We got ourselves ready to go and we were shortly on our way. We dropped Diego off at his Mami Martha’s and Honey’s house. My sweet Diego. He didn’t want to go. He cried and cried. It tore me to pieces. My Mom and Dad gave us their blessing and the warmest hugs anyone could ever receive and again, we were on our way. On the way Alfonso and I talked in between moments of silence and tears. We told ourselves that if it was only meant to be with Diego then that’s the way it would be. He supported me when I told him that I wasn’t sure I wanted to try again. My heart is fragile. He reassured me that whatever is meant to be will be.

We arrived at the hospital checked me in and a nurse was in, in no time. Unfortunately for her, no one had told her my story. So she made some comments that were probably a little inappropriate however, I’m not of the sensitive nature. I wasn’t offended. She asked if I had any other children, I told her a boy. She said “Good. Now you’ll have you’re boy and girl.” “Not quite. This one isn’t coming home with us.” I told her. Her demeanor changed and she apologized throughout the evening. I felt guilty for having to be the one to tell her. Tell someone, yet again. She started the process to what would be a long night. She explained that some women fall asleep and deliver while they’re sleeping. I was concerned because I had a c-section with Diego and was told that I would probably have to have one again. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. The medicine they gave me had a pleasant side effect. I won’t share. You’re welcome. Alfonso’s brother and sister in law came for a brief visit. We appreciated the support. When the private moments started is when they left.

Alfonso and I talked and we decided her name would be Ruby. To name her after my Abuelita Luz who had just passed would be too much. Ruby. She was Ruby from the beginning. We also talked about whether we were going to hold her and see her. At first I was hesitant. How would I take it? Would it be traumatic? Alfonso told me he wanted to see her, he didn’t want us to live with “I wonder’s”. Additional ones that is. So the nurse came in and without hesitation when she asked if we would want to hold her and see her, I immediately said yes. She assured me that was the right decision. Told me that there hadn’t been one person that had ever regretted that decision but on the other hand those that chose to not see their child lived with regret. We didn’t want to live with that additional guilt.