Empty Arms

What happens after your child runs ahead of you to heaven? I’d never thought about it. It’s not something you plan for. I was sitting in that chair beside my husband. I was holding our daughter trying to take in everything I possibly could about this little person.

I wanted to remember the way she looked so peaceful almost like she was sleeping. I wanted to remember what it felt like to hold her. I wanted to remember every tiny detail.

I wasn’t thinking, even then, about what happens next.

I don’t know how much time had passed. I don’t think it had been long. The doctor approached us and offered to show us to the “family room”. In this room we could spend as much time as we needed with Ruby.

We stood up and I carried our sweet girl out of the NICU. We were led through a door that I hadn’t noticed before and into a plain room with a couch at one end of the room and tv mounted on the opposite wall. The nurse went to get my mama and Andy’s while I sat down on the couch.

I just continued to stare at Ruby wishing and hoping that she was just sleeping. I don’t know that I remember crying at that point. I don’t remember feeling much of anything. It’s a very hard moment to put into words. Shock would probably be accurate. I think I went into a state of shock.

Andy was angry. He was pacing back and forth. He’d occasionally walk over to one of the walls and I honestly thought he was going to punch it at one point. He told me later that they need to put a punching bag in that room. I thought it was a very good idea.

The nurse brought mama (my mama) and Mama Jay (what I call Andy’s mom) into the “family room” and they both had an opportunity to hold and love on our Ruby.

Neither one held her long. Thinking back, I don’t think they wanted to take away from any time I could have with her.

I’ll admit. One thing I regret is how quickly I handed her back to the nurses, but I also think that I’d feel that way if I’d held her there for hours and hours. There wasn’t enough time. We didn’t have enough time.

We were asked…maybe by the nurse, maybe by the doctor, maybe by my mama -I honestly don’t remember- “What funeral home would you like to use?”

Blank.

There’s another question you don’t anticipate when you’re preparing to bring a child into the world.

Thankfully, my mama stepped in at that point. My aunt works at Williams Funeral Home in my hometown. I wanted Ruby to be around family always. Williams was the obvious choice.

I believe I was holding Ruby during that conversation. Again, I honestly don’t remember. It’s all so clear and yet so fuzzy at this point.

I do remember deciding that we needed to leave. I needed to be with Andy and it was time to go. I handed our girl back to the nurse. I let her go. It was the last time I ever held her and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could have her back.

Andy, myself, and Mama Jay were going to go back to the Ronald McDonald House to sleep before driving back home a few hours later. My mama insisted on staying and waiting for Williams. My aunt was coming with another family friend, who also works at Williams, to pick up Ruby to take her back to the funeral home.

Shock. Numb.

I don’t remember walking to the car, driving the short distance to the Ronald McDonald House, or even walking to the room. I remember laying in bed with Andy and then I remember waking up.

Did I sleep? Was it real? Did it actually happen?

That’s how I woke up for a long time after. Always hoping that maybe, just maybe, it didn’t really happen. It was just a terrible dream.

I still wake up confused every now and then, but it happens less now.

But it was real. It IS real. Ruby was gone. I was laying beside Andy in a room at the Ronald McDonald House. He was asleep beside me. Mama Jay was asleep in the next bed.

I couldn’t go back to sleep. I’d been updating friends and family on Facebook over the last 2 days and I decided that, since I couldn’t sleep, I would write one last update. It was while writing this update that I first remember crying after Ruby was called home.

I wrote:

“Ruby Update #3

Early this morning, between the hours of 4:00 and 5:00 AM, Andy and I were told that even on maximum doses of medicines, Ruby’s numbers were dropping. Following that conversation we made the difficult decision, together, to turn off the machines that were keeping our girl alive.

Andy and I were able to spend time with her, just the three of us, before hand. Everyone in the NICU was helpful and accommodating, and they gave us as much time as we needed during this time.

On October 9, 2017, at 5:09 AM, our sweet Ruby left us and went to be with the Lord.

There are no words to describe the love Andy and I have for this little person who became our whole world two short days ago at 5:27 PM, but there are also no words to describe the confusion, hurt, sorrow, and the number of other emotions we are feeling now that she’s gone.

Over the past two days we’ve made some of the most difficult decisions that a parent shouldn’t ever have to make and we are proud of our decisions. We know we made the right ones for our girl, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier. I have to keep reminding myself that God has a plan for our Ruby, that she’s no longer suffering, and that even though she’s not physically here with us, I am her Mama.

Please pray for us today as everything is really sinking in, over this next week as we plan to lay our sweet girl to rest, and over the coming weeks as I have no idea what is in store for us.

Finally, I’m so thankful I have Andy by my side in all of this. He has been so strong for both Ruby and myself in this process. He stayed with our girl when I wasn’t able to and he made sure she was never alone. I hope the Lord will allow Ruby to know just how amazing her Daddy is.

Thank you all so much again for all the prayers. We have been overwhelmed with the love we feel from all of you and we will be sure to share ceremony details once we know more.”

Now everyone knew. It was EVEN MORE real if that was possible.

I can’t tell you how long I laid there before Andy woke up. I don’t think it was long. We took our time that morning getting up, getting dressed, and getting going. Mama was still at the hospital. Williams had come and she’d been able to visit with my aunt. I was thankful for that. I didn’t like that my mama was alone after we lost Ruby.

We had Andy’s car and Mama Jay had the car she’d rented. We planned to go pick up mama and she’d ride back to Perry with Mama Jay and Andy and I would ride together.

I went ahead of Andy and Mama Jay to “pay” and check out. Ronald McDonald House runs on donations. I’d written a check and Mama Jay had given me cash as well. When I approached the desk a very friendly man and woman sat behind it.

I told them we’d like to check out and the man innocently bursts out, “Leaving so soon?!”

I feel so bad for that nice man because I believe my reaction hurt his heart. I immediately started crying and the only words that came out of my mouth were “I wish we weren’t.”

He came around that desk at light speed and gave me a big hug. It was so incredibly awkward and I was so embarrassed that I’d reacted that way, but I also knew I had entered uncharted territory and I was learning as I went.

Mama Jay and Andy came down shortly after and we walked to the car.

I don’t think I went back into the hospital. I think we rode over to the parking deck where Andy’s car was parked and waited for my mama there. When she walked up, she was holding a little box. Inside were Ruby’s things that had been collected from the NICU nurses. I’ve since added to our mementoes, but they’d given us her I.d. Bracelet, a dress they’d put her in and taken pictures after we left, a disposable camera with those pictures (I still haven’t developed those pictures), a lock of her hair, and, my favorite, her foot print in a little mold.

I loved that box and I appreciated that box.

After that, it was time to go back home. We loaded up into the cars, programmed the GPS, and we left. We left without our daughter. I’d carried her for almost 39 weeks and now….she just wasn’t there.

Our arms were empty and, to this day, it’s the heaviest weight I’ve ever carried.