Missing

Two years. Two years since I have cuddled my baby. My Tiny. Two years ago was the darkest day of my life. It felt like the darkest day that could have possibly ever been. Ruby was back and forth from this world to the next, and we could feel it. It was a terrible, gut wrenching experience to see life slipping from my infant child. I wasn't ready. I had not given up. Selfish? Maybe. But, 7 months is too short. Any amount of time would have been too short to be with my Ruby girl. I have tried to live in the present, especially since Lola joined our family. I have been able to reflect on the happy times with Ruby, but today is hard. Today, two years ago is hard to forget, even though I have prayed and prayed to forget.  

Ruby Lous for Ruby Jane

I am really excited to announce a special project that has been organized for The Ruby Jane Foundation. Two amazing ladies, Sharee from the blog A Piano Teacher Revealed and Abby from Sew Much Ado, have put a lot of time and effort into this great project in honor of Ruby during her Angel month. 

Abby is the creator of the darling Ruby Lou Doll Pattern, and Sharee made one of these dolls with her daughter, and couldn't stop thinking about our Ruby as she made it. From there, this project was born! Throughout the entire month of August, Abby at Sew-Much-Ado is going to donate the full profit of all Ruby Lou Doll Pattern purchases to The Ruby Jane Foundation!  

This is a great project for beginner to intermediate sewers. My daughter Kate and I will be making one together this month. It is the perfect project to do with your child! 

There is one last part of this project, one that I am the most excited about. If you would like to make your doll, and then send it to us, we are going to be donating them around the holidays, to the sweet girls that are in the hospital where Ruby was. 

We are so grateful for these amazing ladies, and their talent and time in making this project happen. Continuing Ruby's legacy is something that brings us so much comfort and peace, and it is so much easier to do this when we have earthly angels here to help us. 

 

I hope you will join us this August, in honor of Ruby, and spend some time making a Ruby Lou Doll, for your child, with your child, or for a child that would sure love a darling little doll to cuddle while in the hospital.

If you keep your doll, we would love to see a picture of the finished product! Abby has also made it possible to purchase the pattern as a gift.

You can purchase the Ruby Lou Doll Pattern(for $9) at: Sew Much Ado

Our Mailing Address to send finished dolls is:

The Ruby Jane Foundation

PO Box 505

Trabuco Canyon, CA 92678

Photos courtesy of Kyla Beth Photo Studio.

Lola Bloom Taylor

On July 2nd, 2013, we welcomed Lola Bloom Taylor to our family! 

She was born at 3:59pm, after 8 hours of labor. She weighed 10 pounds 4 ounces, and was 21 inches long! She is healthy, and beautiful, and we could not feel more blessed with her joining our family!

We are all adjusting really well. Kate is beyond thrilled to have a baby in the house again, and to pick up her sisterly duties again. She is a good helper, fetching diapers and burp cloths, and holding the baby every chance she gets. She loves to kiss her sweet little face, just like Matt and I! 

Matt is so in love with his third little girl. He is so good with babies. I can so clearly recall his face at all three of our children's births, with the biggest smile and teary eyed. He is such a good dad, and husband. When the baby wakes up at night, he pops up to grab her, changes her diaper, and brings her to me to feed. I love watching him with our girls! 

I am doing really well too. It was a surprisingly easy recovery, considering her size! It feels SO good to be back into the busy mom mode. As crazy as it feels sometimes, it is what I am suppose to be doing at this time in my life, and it makes me really happy. One night we started at 7:45, trying to get both girls in bed and asleep, and it was after 11 before they were both asleep at the same time. I knew I should have felt frustrated, but I just couldn't. I just felt so thankful to have these girls to be busy with. I know the frustration and exhaustion will eventually creep back in at some point, but for now, we are just savoring this time and enjoying every moment, even the fussy ones! 

Our home has felt so different since Lola Bloom has arrived. It has been peaceful and happy, and I feel Ruby close. When the baby smiles in her sleep, I like to think she is dreaming about Ruby.
We have been thinking and talking about Ruby a lot lately, and miss her SO much. There is still an empty place, that no amount of children, will be able to fill in our lives, but I am happy that Lola has created her own spot in our family.  Lola is the perfect addition to our family, and we are so in love with her!

We haven't been this happy in a long time. She is such a blessing.

A little Blessing coming our way

 

 

I feel like we are right on the cusp of something great. We have suffered the loss of so much over the past two years, and I feel like we are finally being given a tangible blessing. There has been many spiritual blessings, but it seems as though the physical blessings of our life keep slipping through our hands. 

Our third daughter is due to be born in 4 days. It has been a very long, expensive, emotional, and just flat out hard road getting to this point. There was a time that we were told we would not be able to have any more children. I remember the exact moment when our doctor called to tell us that. I remember driving around one day, when I thought of a perfect baby girl name, and then fell apart thinking I may never get to use that name. I also remember the exact moment when another doctor told us it would still be possible to have more children. 

I can't believe that we have gotten all the way to this point. I love to think about Ruby preparing her baby sister to enter into our family. Preparing room mentally and physically for another child, especially another daughter has been very emotionally charged. I kept pushing off "nesting". Up until about a month ago, I had no even bought this baby one thing! I think the walls that I have built to protect my heart were so strong, that it was hard to even want to let this new baby in. The last time I did all of this baby stuff, the outcome was so traumatic and heartbreaking, that it has been hard to convince my heart that it will be different this time. 

I had been praying so hard to feel prepared. To feel the right amount of excitement, and worry. Praying to let my walls down, and really accept we are having another baby, and that she will be healthy. It just seemed too good to be true, after everything. Shortly after my pleading, we had a very special spiritual experience, an undeniable sign from our Ruby, that changed everything. I realized that Ruby doesn't care if her room is changed. She doesn't care if I finally wipe the Tylenol smudges off her dresser, or pack away some of her things. She is excited for our family to welcome another baby, and I know that she wanted me to bask in the joy that a newborn brings. 

I was able to finally change her room. I kept walking in the nursery, and then walking right back out. Late one night I asked my husband to go in with me. We started in her top drawer, where her size 1 diapers were perfectly arranged, and never used. I had opened the drawer a lot of over the past 2 years. Those diapers made my heart hurt. It made me angry that I put them in there with the intention of using them on my baby girl, and there they sat. But you know what? Men are wired a little different! He didn't' have an emotional connection to unused diapers! Thank goodness! So he moved the size 1's and replaced with with the Newborn size. I thought, "Ok, we are really doing this...I can do this!" We moved on to the next drawer, where her clothes were. The first outfit I picked up I buried my face in, and cried and cried. I could imagine all the times she had worn it. It made everything seem so recent. So real. So tangible. I am glad I had my strong and sweet husband there with me. He knew the outfit. He knew the pain. We carefully folded our favorite outfits and blankets of hers, and set them aside. It got easier and easier as we kept going throughout the night. I think that Ruby was there with us. The feeling in the room was so peaceful and happy and almost sacred. The next day Kate helped me remove Ruby's bedding, and wipe down the crib, and put the new bedding on. It was very therapeutic for our whole family to prepare this new room, for the new little sister and daughter that was making her way to us. Ruby's nursery is where I have gone to grief for her. It is where she has felt close. I was scared to change that space, losing that physical connection to her. But it still feels like her room, only she is sharing it with the new baby. I like walking in there and thinking about those sisters together. 

We are ready for this baby girl to arrive. Ruby will never be replaced, but we are very excited to have a baby in the house again. Often people have tried to tell me that we will be healed, and this baby will make up for our loss. I know it is not true, but I do believe that the blessing of this sweet baby to our family, will fill our hearts with love and joy and happiness!  We can't wait for Tuesday!

It's quiet in the nursery
Too quiet for my heart
Dust on the changing table
Toys unplayed with in the corner

I rock myself in your chair
Trying to remember your weight in my arms
If I close my eyes I can almost smell you
The memories of this room are sweet

Your little sister is nearly here
She grows beneath my broken heart
Making room for her has not been easy
You will no longer be my littlest baby

The missing is deep and the pain is real
Longing for you is part of my normal day
Wishing things were different

Hoping its a bad dream

This nursery is quiet tonight
Soon it will be again filled with cries and giggles
As she grows beneath my broken heart, she is slowly healing me

Your sister

I rock in your chair
Feeling the weight not in my arms, but in my womb
Her fluttery movements remind me life keeps going
Life keeps growing

Each day, experience, memory and ache
One day closer to you in my arms once again
A quiet nursery tonight
But only for a moment

"In His Hands"

About a month after Ruby passed away, while Kate was at her first day of preschool, two bereaved mothers were going to come over to talk with me. I saw them walk up the sidewalk, talking and smiling. I thought it seemed to odd that they could be smiling. They knocked and I stood on the opposite side of the door, trying to compose myself when I heard them "chit chatting".  I so clearly remember thinking, "I am going to smile and chit chat again one day?" It was such a foreign idea to my broken heart and spirit, but it gave me hope.

Jenny Hess was one of those mothers. She very suddenly and traumatically lost her dear 4 year old son Russell, while on a family vacation. It has been 5 years since he returned to Heaven, and Jenny just finished an amazing book called, "In His Hands."

Talking to parents who have also lost children, has been very comforting to me. It is painful to hear their stories, but there is a similarity in the pain, a thread that so violently runs through each of our hearts, that bonds us to each other.  I have been pretty "comfortable" in my grieving for the past while. I haven't had very many major breakdowns, and I haven't been reaching out for comfort like I needed to those first few months and year. As I started Jenny's book, I realized how lonely I had been. As I read her words, her experiences, her feelings, her fears, her hopes, her dreams, her doubts, her struggles and triumphs, I felt like I was reading my own heart.

Grieve is such a lonely road most of the time. There is no going around it, under it, or over it. The only way is through it. Everyone grieves differently, and that can make it feel like you have to travel the road alone. While reading "In His Hands" I realized that those of of that are grieving are all on the same trail, we are trudging through the thick mud, side by side, but we all have a different way of trudging.

I have read so many books on loss and grief that I have lost count of them. They all left me feeling like I was failing in my struggle, and I needed to hurry on with this process and be healed. Jenny's book, is real and honest. Her wound is fresh, and she knows it will never fully "heal".  It is validating to hear someone share her feelings so openly. I felt as though I was given permission to take my time, fully feel the pain, and not feel rushed or guilty for it.

Jenny has given me hope. I look at her, and I see a happy person. I see a person that has learned from her experience, and continues to learn and change and grown each day she faces with out her child.

I highly recommend her book to everyone. No matter what struggle you are facing, there is always joy at the end. "In His Hands", though sad, has inspired me, and left me feeling hope, peace and comfort.

To learn more about Jenny, and her journey, watch this beautiful video.

Organ Donation

Imagine holding your three month old child, and hearing the words, “Liver failure.” It was the worst day of my life to that point. I waited to hear the plan. I listened to hear what medications would cure her. I braced myself to hear the hefty cost of treatment. I even imagined the list of surgeries she would need, as a team of 15 or more people filled our hospital room one cool afternoon in April. I had been nursing Ruby when they walked in. They didn’t waste much time in sharing the diagnosis, and as it sounded more and more serious, I felt myself wanting to tuck Ruby deeper under my nursing cover. Only seconds before I had been looking into her eyes, dismissing the yellowish tint, while reminding myself, “Bad things don’t happen to good people.”

It didn’t take long to notice that most of the white coats in the room had the blue words, “Liver Transplant” embroidered under their names. They must have the wrong room. Transplant? As in an organ transplant? I listened, and learned, and felt my heart break into a million pieces as it was explained that our tiny daughter would need a liver transplant to make it to her first birthday. No cure? No medication? No treatments? She needs a liver transplant to survive. As a parent, it is our sole purpose to keep our children safe. It is our responsibility to provide what they don’t have. Looking at my sick daughter, and realizing that I was completely useless in making her better, was one of the darkest feelings I have ever felt.

Some comfort came when we learned we could be tested to be a living donor for her. That comfort was quickly replaced with anger and frustration, as myself, my husband, and a few others were tested, and all turned away as a matches. The small portion they would need from our livers, were each too large for her tiny body. She needed a child sized organ. So we waited. And waited. We waited mostly while in the hospital, our small family trying to stick together through the hardest of times.

We waited for a call. We waited for someone to come into our room, and say, “We found a donor! Someone is giving Ruby the gift of life!” We were waiting and praying for someone to make a hard choice, in an even harder situation. We didn’t know who they were, or what terrible events would leave them with the choice to donate their child’s organs to Ruby, but we prayed so hard for them in their grief, and that they would say “yes”.

We waited for 4 months, until Ruby’s little body grew too tired, and too sick to keep fighting. She passed away one week after she turned 7 months old. No one said, “yes”. No one was willing to donate to our sick, tired, and sweet daughter. There was a cure for Ruby. But we couldn’t pay for it. We couldn’t find it in a foreign land, tucked away in a tropical jungle. We couldn’t beg, borrow or steal for it. We couldn’t even ask for it! We just had to wait. Wait for a stranger to decide to say “yes”, and save our daughter’s life. I never imagined, even in my nightmares, that we would run out of time. I had so much hope.

The time to learn about organ donation is now. Making the choice to donate a loved ones organs needs to be made before being placed in the awful position to decide.
If we would be willing to accept an organ to save our life, shouldn’t we be also willing to give?

For more information please visit this website: Donate Life 

If you live in California, and would like to register as a donor, you can do so through Ruby, HERE!

Ruby on Small Fry Blog

Ruby's story is being featured on the amazing blog "Small Fry" today. 

I share my feelings about organ donation and about struggling with finding a donor for Ruby.

 April is Donate Life Month, a perfect time to register, if you haven't already. 

You can register here.

Ruby's Place

Her "Place" as we call it, was painful to visit in the beginning. It was heavy and depressing and I would spend a lot of time crying there. I would often visit alone, while Kate was in preschool, taking advantage of the quiet time to ponder my grief. I would bring a blanket, and would roll up like a burrito and lay down next to her special spot on the hill. 

When we would visit as a family, we would leave frustrated because Kate always chose that time to be hungry, tired, thirsty, or have to go to the bathroom. It seemed like we were always telling her to "stop crying and just be quiet for a minute!" Looking back, of course she must have felt our heavy sadness that was hard to hide when we visited. It was her way of dealing with being in a place that  made her parents visually sad.

Her place began to take on a new role in my grief after about 6 months. I began to look forward to, and enjoy my time there. It was somewhere I could go, to feel close to her. It was time I could take out of my day that was just for Ruby. It was also the only place where I felt like I could physically care for something connected to her. 

As our hearts began to be lighter, her place became happier. We started to share favorite memories of her, sing songs together, and enjoy the sunshine on our faces. We would often visit on a Sunday afternoon, and would lay on the blanket together. Kate started to feel more comfortable there, and even "adopted" a few other Angel's Places to care for. She would always make sure the leafs were swept off markers, and potted plans turned upright after a windy day. 

One day, after an afternoon of sun and swimming this Summer, Kate and I decided on a whim to stop by to check on Ruby's Place. I was just going to jump out of the car to put a few things up, but Kate decided she wanted to get out as well. She was barefoot, and still in her swim suit, and even had goggles on her forehead.  There happen to be a hose nearby that was spraying water through a sprinkler attached to water some dry grass. Kate looked at me, and then looked at the sprinkler, and then back to me again. I looked around the grounds, and when I realized we were the only visitors, and that the spot was unused and free of any markers, I gave her a nod, giving her permission to run around in the sprinkler. I sat on a bench in the shade, and watched my little girl feel perfectly happy and content to be playing in a cemetery. It made me giggle at first, and then tears filled my eyes as I realized that Ruby had to of been running right along side her sister in that moment. I was so glad that Kate felt comfortable there, because I know that this is where she will come to feel near Ruby as the years go on as well. 

Today Kate and I visited again. It is a cool crisp day, and under the shade of her tree we cleaned up her spot, and hung the flag with her picture on it. Kate pulled me into the sunshine, grabbed my hands, and we sang "Ring Around the Rosies!" and turned in circles laughing. We had a race down the hill and back, and ran around her tree chasing each other.  When my lingering morning sickness crept up on me, I suggested we get going, but Kate said, "Not yet! I like it here!"

We have picnicked there. We have done service projects there.  We have met life long friends there. We have cried and laughed and sobbed there. We have attended candle light services, and even a few funerals there.  We have prayed there. We have learned there. We feel Ruby there.

"Ruby's Place" is our place now. It feels like an extension of our home. Of course, every time I enter through the big green gates I silently hate that we are there in the first place, but  I am happy that it has become a place of peace for our family. We have some of the darkest and loneliest of times there, but also some of the most spiritual and peaceful of times as well. 

I know that Ruby is near when we are there, with her mighty and beautiful spirit feeling sorrow and joy and yearning right along with ours.

I am a registered organ donor.

Our daughter, Ruby, died waiting for a life saving liver transplant. She died because there is a massive shortage of organ donors. 1/3 of over 100,000 people waiting for an organ will die as they wait. I never thought we would be victim to that statistic. I am a registered Organ and Tissue Donor in honor or Ruby and to give HOPE to those waiting to be saved. 

If you live in California you can register in less than two minutes here: http://register.donatelifecalifornia.org/RubyJaneTaylor

If you live outside of California, you can register here:  

http://donatelife.net/register-now/

Two

I know these pages have been quiet lately. It is not that I don't have anything to share, I have just been in a different place in my grief.

There were a few months of terrible morning sickness, and my grief simply went on hold. It wasn't that I didn't think about my Ruby, but from sun up, to sun down, I was in a nauseous ball on the couch. I knew that grieving, on top of being physically so sick, was too much for me. It was kind of a nice break to be truthful. I still thought of her and missed her, but my mind would not allow me to go beyond that. I started to miss my grief, and prayed to feel better for Matt, for Kate, and to have room for Ruby too.

Sometimes if feels good to grieve. Grief is a physical aching. When all things physical about Ruby feel gone, the grief is a welcome guest sometimes. To be honest, it feels like she is with me a lot. Sometimes if just feels normal that I can't see her, but I know she is close. I think I have so much faith in the plan, and really truly believe that Heaven is all around us, making it that much easier to deal with.

But there are painful, reminders every so often that she is physically not here. These moments come at unexpected times. They come with full force, and wreak havoc on my heart. On her birthday, after we had finished cleaning up the Run for Ruby, I was exhausted beyond exhausted, and was driving home when I realized I didn't have anything to take to Ruby's Place later that day. I was about to pass the cupcake store and thought I would run in and run out with a cute little cake for her. I picked out a strawberry cupcake with light pink frosting, and white sprinkles. It was the same cupcake I picked out for her last year. The same cupcake that would go uneaten.... I paid the cashier, and she said, "Have a good day!" Her comment instantly stung my heart. I wasn't expecting it. It just came in like a rushing river of daggers. Have a good day? Do you know that I just picked this cupcake out for my dead daughter and later we will sing happy birthday to her at the cemetery!? 

I quickly made my way out of the store, and crossed the parking lot with tear-blurred vision. I could feel the pain building, and knew I needed to make it back to the privacy of my car before my emotions went to the next level. As I closed the door, the daggers ripped deeper, as the reality of the day sunk in. It was my daughter's 2nd birthday. We should be getting ready for her party. I should be putting a cute party dress on her, and be excited about giving her gifts. Thoughts of Kate's second party filled my mind. Smiles, laughs, cupcakes, singing, candle blowing, friends... I hated the little brown box sitting in the passenger seat. It contained a pretty pink cupcake that would sit at her place, and eventually be drenched with water from the sprinklers, and then removed and thrown in the trash by the grounds workers.  In that moment it represented my loss. All I wanted was Ruby. All I wanted was Ruby, here to enjoy her second birthday with us.


I sobbed and sobbed, and let it all out in the safety of my car. Once I thought I was stable enough to drive, I started my car, and made my way out of the shopping center, and passed the park. I knew that we probably would have had her party at this park. I saw a family setting up some table clothes, and noticed balloons, and I wanted to stop and make sure they knew how lucky they were to be having a birthday party today. Surely, they could not know how lucky they were.

There have been a few moments in the past 17 months that I could imagine exactly what we would have been doing, had Ruby been alive still. Last July, Ruby would have been 18 months, and it would have been her first day of nursery at church. When we left for church that day, I looked at our front porch and thought, "If she was here, I would have made us all late by getting a picture of Ruby on her special day in the usual "special day" spot on the porch."  It almost seems like if I wished it hard enough and close my eyes tight enough, I could see us there on the porch. There have been a couple of birthday parties that she would have been invited to, and seeing the pictures of the other party go-oers makes me miss my Ruby so much I could burst. When the nursery kids walk by on a walk, I am missing her from the group. I know that in our old life, she should be there, in those situations. She should be in those pictures, she should be at that park, she should be in that playgroup. But she is missing.

It is in those moments that her physical absence is so obvious, and the hurt just hurts, and there is nothing to take it away.

We ended up bringing her balloons from the Run for Ruby, and met up with some family to have a picnic at her place. When it was just the 4 of us left, we sang happy birthday, Kate blew out her candles (wishing for Christ to come back again soon with Ruby, like she always wishes) and we each had a bite of her cupcake. We thought she would have wanted to share. :)

And then there were 5!

We are really excited that this family of 4, will soon be a family of 5! 

We are expecting a healthy baby girl at the beginning of July!

It has been a long road getting to this point, but we couldn't be more happy about the addition of another girl to this family. It makes my heart really happy to think that this new baby is being sent fresh from Heaven, right where her big sister, Ruby is. 

Matt is thrilled that it is a girl, he loves his daughters to bits. Kate said she wanted a boy, but when we found out it was a girl, was excited thinking about dressing her up, and teaching her how to walk. Me? I knew we would be send exactly what our family needed, and a third daughter sounds perfect.

There are so many emotions involved, but the thought of a new precious baby, is really pretty joyful. 

Kate keeps asking if it is Summertime yet... I wish Kate! It can't come soon enough!