Archive for the ‘Ruby Mae’ Category

Many people have recommended a blog to me, about Audrey Caroline, in recent days, and I’ve been unable to click the links. I just couldn’t. I’m too raw, and I didn’t care about anyone else’s pain, my own was too fresh for me to think about others’.

Then Ruthann posted the lyrics to Audrey’s song…and I started bawling when I read them. I had to go to YouTube and do a search, but couldn’t find the right song. So I googled the first stanza and found the song, and Audrey’s story, that way. Both touched me so much, I had to email Audrey’s mother from her blog, to thank her for the gift I received from their song and story Saturday night.

Watching the video of their beautiful family…I wish I’d been strong enough to let the kids enjoy Ruby Mae, even in death. I wish I’d been strong enough to ask to see her the next day, but I couldn’t bear the thought of holding her and her being cold and still. Now…oh the regrets I have. I can’t change the past…I’m healing but its so hard at times, ya know?

Anyway, the video is beautiful…thank you Ruthann, for bringing the lyrics to my attention and causing me to search out what so many people in their kindness and compassion tried to get me to see earlier.

There were photographs I wanted to take
Things I wanted to show you
Sing sweet lullabies, wipe your teary eyes
Who could love you like this?People say that I am brave but I’m not
Truth is I’m barely hanging on
But there’s a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this

So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the One Who’s chosen me
To carry you

Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says…

I’ve shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies, no more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?

I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the One Who’s chosen Me
To carry you


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I went back to the OB today…most of my staples came out, but I still have a few in the middle where its not healing right.  I go back Monday and hopefully will get those removed then.  I also go back to UMC Monday, this time to cardio-thoracic surgery, for the consult on what to do about my little lung problem.  Hopefully they’ll be able to do something so I can come off the oxygen soon.

After the OB, we went by the monument company we’d been referred to, and ordered Ruby’s headstone.   I decided against a standing one…the ones for children were so little, and I wanted a line on there that would be really tiny font if it’d even fit, so we ended up choosing the kind that lies on the ground, but is slanted instead of flat.  Thanks to a generous gift from Justin’s job, we were able to pay cash for the stone and it’ll be installed in about 90 days they said.  They have to send us a proof of the design first, before they cut it.  It has flowers and doves on opposite corners, and is a nice stone.  The text is going to say “A moment in our arms, forever in our hearts.”  I couldn’t think of anything nice for her headstone, and that woke me up in the middle of the night a couple nights ago.  I got out of bed and wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget it by morning.  I feel like God gave me the words…and I really don’t care if anyone thinks that’s corny or foolish or not.

I’ve been melancholy all day, since ordering her headstone.  I didn’t think it’d be as hard as it was.  I came home and sat for a very long time, flipping through her pictures, trying desperately to remember her, and not being able to.  Then I started beating myself up because the first hour she was alive, she was pink and pretty.  What would a couple more weeks have done for her lungs?  Why did I give up?

The way I feel…is that we have trials of faith, and how we react to those trials defines us.  In my most trying moment…I blinked.  I let the doctors tell me that my health was at risk because my blood pressure went up.  I wasn’t “sick” from the preeclampsia yet…I could possibly have gone days, if not weeks longer.  Why didn’t I insist they do another scan to see what was going on with her lungs before deciding to let them do the c-section?  Why didn’t I insist before the surgery that they attempt intubation on her?  Why…why…why…the list goes on and on, but it all boils down to the fact that when they said “Its time to have the baby,” instead of fighting on for her, I blinked.

No one would blame me.  No one does.  But I blame myself.  I look at those pictures, and I wonder why she could live for an hour and a half on her own, yet not have a future if she were intubated.  My brain tells me the outcome would have eventually been the same, and at least the way it happened, she went peacefully and in loving arms, but my heart tells me…I blinked.

I guess the shock is wearing off.  The anger has definitely set in, and its hard to even be civil when people ask how I’m doing.  I’m trying, and at times its really easy to say that I’m getting by, that I’m doing well, etc etc.  But today…today I’m still mad, and I’m disappointed in myself.  I pray that in time I’ll be able to forgive myself, but I imagine its going to be a long time coming.

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in more ways than one.  I’m breathing a little easier today…the antibiotics are finally kicking in.  My incision issue is worse, but I go back to the OB tomorrow for staple removal (they weren’t ready at 7 days post-op) so hopefully he’ll be able to tell me what to do for it.  Suffice it to say its “icky” and leave it at that…

I’m mad.  I’m mad and I’m upset and I’m sad and … yeah, I’m human.  I’m still not mad at God, so that’s something at least.  I’m having a lot of pain again, and a lot of medical issues in general, mostly related to having a baby, and I have no baby to show for it.  I never got to say goodbye.  They drugged me out of my mind.  I can’t remember holding her.  I can’t remember looking at her.  All I have are pictures, and those aren’t good enough for me…there are things I wanted to know about her that I’ll never know now (how long was she?  No one thought to measure her!  Why didn’t they make handprints??)  I didn’t cry at her funeral…I probably had the only dry eyes there…it wasn’t real to me…I looked at that tiny little casket and thought “That’s not my baby in there…” but I don’t really know where I thought my baby MIGHT be if not in the casket…I did cry when we left the cemetery, because I didn’t like the thought of putting my baby into the ground, so I guess I had conflicting thoughts and emotions.

I haven’t been back to the grave yet.  I wanted to go back that afternoon, but I was hurting too bad and having too much trouble breathing and such (the pneumonia was just kicking into gear).  Then it got cold and rainy.  I need to go back, and I need to say goodbye.  I haven’t been able to let go yet.  Having more milk than I did with Bekah doesn’t help the issue either.  My body wants to nurture Ruby still…and Ruby isn’t here for me to nurture.  She was my last…I made sure of that, because I can’t go through something like this again, but that very fact also tears me up inside.  I’ll never be able to have another baby (without an act of God that is), and my last experience ended badly.

I want her so bad.   I’m mad that I didn’t get to keep her.  I’m mad that the doctors told my family they couldn’t believe she lived at all after she was born, much less as long as she did, with the small amount of lung tissue they’d observed a few weeks earlier, but no one tried to intubate her or scan her again to see if there was a chance.  I know in my heart that she lived as long as she did because she was a fighter, and that in the end she still would have died, but that doesn’t help.  I want her WITH ME.  I’m selfish and I don’t care.  I miss her so much it hurts…I seriously feel a huge part of me is missing, and I don’t know how to compensate for that.  I haven’t been able to let go and really cry about it, because when I do I can’t breathe and end up almost passing out, so I’m being robbed of even my tears for her.

I’m pissed off and I don’t care that this is sounding like one big ole’ pity party.  I wanted my baby and I’m mad that I didn’t get to keep her, not so much as even ONE memory of her.  I want MY memories…not what other people have told me.  This whole thing just sucks.

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Today we buried little Ruby Mae.  It was easier on me than I thought it would be.  Jared took it very hard and cried throughout the short service.  Justin held it together until we were leaving and Bekah turned and called out “Bye Ruby!” and then he cried pretty hard.  I cried as we were driving away…I didn’t like leaving my baby to go into the ground.  But, it isn’t really her…she’s in Heaven living the good life, and we’re left here to grieve her loss, but rejoice at her fortune in skipping the trials of life on earth and going straight to her reward.

I’m at peace with it all for the most part.  I still have my moments where I cry “I want my baby!” and of course I’ve wanted to punch a LOT of walls since Friday evening…but for the most part I’m holding things together very well.  God is being very kind to me obviously…I feel His love holding me up when I need it the most.  Even Justin has been shocked at how well I’m managing.

The service was very brief, yet touching.  Our pastor had beautiful scripture and a beautiful prayer for her, and the children and I had single roses to lay on her casket (except Katie, she picked a beautiful lily for her instead of a rose).  The funeral home had provided three silk roses with ribbons for the kids to remember Ruby by.  I was really touched by that.

The day started out cold and miserable, and I was worried about that, since I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with bronchitis at the least, pneumonia at worst…but as we got to the cemetery, the sun came out, it hit 70 degrees, and got down-right hot.  There was a gentle breeze blowing the entire time and I could hear birds singing.  Lady bugs kept coming out of nowhere and landing on me, no one else.  It just ended up being a beautiful day for my Ruby.

We took pictures, and as soon as Justin gets home from his mom’s and transfers them, I’ll post some.  Her little casket was so very tiny, but even it was pretty.  I don’t believe any newborn every experienced as much love as our Ruby did when she entered the world…she was constantly held by someone who loved her so much it hurt, and she died in loving arms as well.

And, I want to thank Linda, who so graciously took Ruby’s picture and removed the darkness in her face, and made a beautiful black and white, colorized picture for us.  I cried when I saw it, and am posting it here.  What a generous, thoughtful, WONDERFUL gift for us…its definitely going to be printed out and framed for our home.  Thank you so much Linda…we’ve never “met” but you touched me so much today when I saw that.

To everyone who has lifted us up in prayer…thank you from the bottom of our hearts…this has been a journey I would wish on no parent, but I’m glad I chose to make it, and would do so again.  Ruby didn’t live long, but her life and yes, her death, have touched so many.  She’s a gift that continues to give, and will continue to give, long after she’s gone.

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Just Checking In

First of all, thanks so much for the heartwarming comments.

This won’t be much of an update, as I’m still falling asleep every time I sit still for more than a minute or two, but I’m staying awake more than I was, so its improvement.

I have no memories of holding Ruby.  I specifically asked to not be given any drugs after the c-section, saying I wanted to be as clear-headed as possible.  Justin walked back into the OR with the baby after showing her to our moms, and heard the anesthesiologist ask me if I wanted something to make me feel better.  I, already on drugs, said yes, and before he could stop her, she’d pushed the medication and I was literally out right then and there.  However, Justin took a lot of pictures, and has several of me holding her.

The picture above was taken after she died, and the nurses cleaned her up and dressed her up for us.  She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen…I only wish I’d had the chance to watch her grow and develop, but it wasn’t meant to be.  Her passing was very peaceful I’ve been told.  Justin and Mom said she didn’t appear to suffer in any way at all, and just peacefully stopped breathing.

Now, how am I doing?  Of course I couldn’t be recovering easily, that’s a given lol.  Seriously though, I am doing very well, all things considered.  The vertical c-section has been WAY easier on me than the bikini cut ones were…pain is minimal, and the incision itself looks very good.  I however am worrying them all.  The preeclampsia still persists, so they’re watching that.  My left side is pretty swollen.  They estimate 90% of my intestines are up in my chest cavity, and that I have no real lung function on the right side.  They want to do surgery to correct this within 6-8 weeks.  They’re going to see me back 4 weeks post-op to see how and when they need to proceed.

Other than that, I’m doing very well, and Justin and I are holding in there.  My mother- and father-in-law came up today and picked Ruby up and took her back to the funeral home in Poplarville with them.  As soon as I get out of the hospital and can move around, we’ll have a small, private graveside service for her at the cemetary.

There’s so much more to say, but I seriously can’t stay awake or keep my thoughts coherent right now.  I’ll try to make a better update later, and will also try to get more pictures up.

Again, thanks for the prayers and wonderful thoughts.

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Waiting For the O.R.

I’m sitting here all prepped up, waiting for the O.R. to clear so they can take me in.  Its almost 7pm as I type this.  I’m a nervous wreck.  I’ve had two big doses of magnesium to try to get my BP down, and they just gave me a dose of something else because my BP hit 178/110 a few minutes ago.  Fun times.

I’m not ready for this.  Please continue to keep us in your prayers.   I’m praying desperately for my miracle, but in my heart, I’m so afraid, for Ruby and for me.


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I had more protein in my urine today than I did Wednesday, and my BP was 160/100, so they’re sending me and my jug o’pee to UMC (UMC can do the lab right there…my clinic would have had to send it out and it’d be Monday before they got results).

We’re having a baby, just not sure if its today or tomorrow (they may want to keep me for the bowel prep and deliver tomorrow, we’re not sure yet).

Please keep us in your prayers…I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.  I’m still praying for my miracle, but…well ya know.


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