She's always with us

So I promised I’d tell you about how I know Ruby has been a part of my journey with the Lucas and Luz.

I woke up extremely nervous the day of our very first “official” OB appointment. I was unsure if we’d be able to listen to a heartbeat. At this point I may have only been 10 weeks, if that. The morning started off with me on my phone, of course. I was on a birth board, and the very first post I read was the story of Moses and how a poster went to her son’s school and it was the lesson that day in chapel. The story was about how we should leave our worries to God and trust that he’ll make the right decisions for us. After I read this story, I tried to do just that.

We arrived at the Dr.’s office and were told that the Dr. was running late and it would be a while before we’d be seen or we could reschedule. I wasn’t going to reschedule because my nerves were on end. So disappointed and sad, I sat back down next to Alfonso and began to fidget. A nurse comes out and calls the next patient, “Ruby… Ruby”. Alfonso squeezed my hand and whispered, “She’s here.” Tears rolled down my face. She was there and she was letting me know that everything was going to be ok. And with that they called my name and took me back. It was in fact too soon to hear heartbeats but I felt good because at least I got to see the Dr.

Later that day… We’re relaxing at home. I asked Alfonso to look up a recipe from a binder in our “office”. He calls my name and asks what the earrings (arracadas) that my Mami gave me looked like. I told him. He came out to the living room and showed them to me. You see, some years ago my Mami gave me some arracadas (gold hoops) that were hers in her younger years. When our house was robbed in 2012, they were a part of it and I was devastated. Again, I believe it was Ruby. And I believe it was her way of showing me that she was around. Yes, the hoops are something materialistic but they’re something I held sacred. Our house was robbed 2 days before Ruby’s service.

Throughout the pregnancy there were signs everywhere. All the time.

The day Lucas and Luz were born and they moved me to the room I’d stay in a page was made over the speaker it was again to “Ruby”. She was there.

You may not believe in signs or this story may sound cheesy and all coincidental to you, but to me, it is not coincidence. They’re affirmations that I have an angel. Luz looks just like her sister. Her eyes, her nose, her lips and her hands. My hands. If you remember my story of Ruby the one thing I regret is not having Ruby’s hands stamped to remember them. Because she had my hands. Luz has my hands. Her sister’s hands. Luz also has a birthmark. Lucas does not.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. My babies are a reminder of her. Of my personal hero. She left to be with God so that these babies could come be with us. That’s unconditional love and that’s the love of an angel. We’re surrounded by blessings daily and reminders that we’re blessed. When days get rough I think of Ruby. And I think, “it could always be worse”. And with that I hug my little family and thank God for what I do have.

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.

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.

More

I’ve felt like writing so much lately. I guess because I have so much going on in my world. Emotionally that is. We tend to write when we’re at one extreme or the other. When we’re overly joyed or overly annoyed. I struggle with moodiness so sometimes this makes me feel worse because I don’t want to give in to my moodiness.

I wrote the above paragraph probably like two months or so ago. Unfortunately for me, the only real time I get and feel inspired to write is when I’m at work. When I’m at home I have the time but there will always be interruptions.

Some days are just too much. I feel that the more time passes the sadder I get. Maybe I didn’t give myself enough time to grieve. I feel like I’m trying to get to my destination on a stationary bike.

We’re TTC. Each period I get is a reminder of how my body failed me. Failed my child.

It seems like everywhere I turn someone in my life is pregnant. I’m sincerely happy for them but can’t deal with either the constant posts on FB or the pictures of ultrasounds and my pessimistic look on life now. Thinking to myself, I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you. Until your child is safe in your arms and even then, that little miracle called life is never a guarantee. Yep, I’m Debbie Downer. Do I say that to them, no. But I do think it. All the baby shower invites. I want to say, “Don’t be offended but no. I’m happy for you and that is the truth and I’ll give you a gift but I don’t want to watch you rub your pregnant belly. I don’t.” Your life changes. Most for the better, but some for the worst. Unless you’ve lived it, you have no idea. And even if you have, we’re all different.

I miss Ruby. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. That I don’t wonder. That I don’t talk to her as if she were right next to me. I ask her for guidance. I ask her to watch over her brother.

I appreciate Alfonso so much for letting me talk about Ruby all I want. For never making me feel as though I’m crazy or I need to get “over it”. For knowing that I’m strong and that strength means having the courage to face things. Because believe me I faced this head on. And I accepted it. Had I not, I’d be in bed crying every day. The tears are now few and far between but the loss is still there. The hole in my heart is there.

I like to talk about her because she existed. She existed in every part of my being. She’s still here. In my soul. Forever.

6 months

Today marks 6 months. 6 months since I said hello and goodbye to Ruby. It truly feels longer than 6 months. I still can close my eyes and replay every single moment from that dreadful evening of January 6th to the second she was born. Maybe I'll tell you my story on the year anniversary. I have an easier time vocalizing the story than writing it. Not sure why.

So many things have changed since then. I've lost 4 friendships. For the better I would say. It was long overdue. I won't go into details because some still like to lurk here and I don't want to get into a war of what's right and wrong. All I know is what's right for my life.

Remember that scene in "My Best Friend's Wedding" (ironic) where Dermot is chasing Cameron and Julia is chasing Dermot? Then she calls her best friend and he asks her "Who's chasing you?". That was what these friendships were like. No one was chasing me. I asked and referred to that scene in my head years and years in our friendship. One event was the final straw and because I'm working towards a better me, a better life, I decided that it was time to let go of the fair weather friends and time to focus more on me, my family and those that choose to be a part of me. Through the good and the bad.

I also just recently celebrated my 37th birthday. 37 years of life. Wow. I don't feel older. I feel the same. It's amazing how much faster time goes by the older I get.

Diego and I say a little prayer every day before I take him to daycare. We say "Diosito ayudenos a portarnos bien. Que esta semana se vaya rapido para estar juntos Mami, Papi y Yeyo. Cuidenos Diosito. Amen." Why I'm teaching my son to pray for time to go fast I'm not sure. He so looks forwards to weekends and being able to stay in bed but more than that to be home with Mom and Dad. He looks forward to Sundays because those are the days that I let him sleep with us. Sundays and Mondays. I let him for selfish reasons. It's so hard to get him to wind down on Sunday nights and when he sleeps with us he has an easier time falling asleep. Monday is the same thing. It's back to the routine so it can be a little hectic. Anything to make life easier right?