The Worst Day

Dear Ruby,

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea that I was beginning the worst day of my life.

I got up at 6am to go to the bathroom and didn’t know it would be the last time I’d feel you move. If I had known, I would have told you that I love you instead of grunting about how difficult it was to get out of bed. I’m so sorry.

We used to joke on my commute to work that you were not a morning person, a trait you most definitely got from me. It wasn’t until the first cold sips of green smoothie were in my belly that you’d stir out of sleep and begin your daily tumbling routine. If I had known that your stillness while I was in the shower at 8am, or on my walk to Starbucks at 9am or answering emails at 10am did not mean that you were ‘just sleeping’, I would have called the doctor much sooner. I’m so sorry.

19 Weeks

19 Weeks

The triage nurses couldn’t find your heartbeat at 2pm. They called in the doctor and I will never forget the image that appeared on the ultrasound monitor. A tiny black mass that should have been moving, but wasn’t. I knew what it was even before the doctor turned and said the most devastating words.

“This is your baby’s heart and it’s not beating. I’m so sorry.”

Your Daddy was so strong, so reassuring. I was a mess. How could this happen? Hours ago you were hiccuping. Last night, you were doing flip flops as a I sipped my milkshake. Hearts don’t just stop beating for no reason.

Everyone keeps telling me that this is not my fault. There was nothing I could have done. It is nearly impossible not to feel like this nightmare is my personal failure. As your mom, it is my job to protect you and I failed. I’m so sorry.

Today is the worst day of my life, but it is also a defining day. I will never be, could never be, the same after this. My heart now beats for you. Each breath I take is for you. The beauty my eyes see in this world will be because of you.

I love you and I’m so sorry,


3 thoughts on “The Worst Day

  1. Oh my dear. I am so sorry that you’re going through this. I followed this link from the Binders group on facebook, just so you know, and this really is a beautiful and heartbreaking piece of writing. I’m thinking of you and sweet Ruby Mae and praying for your peace tonight.

  2. Pingback: It Smells Like Flowers | Dear Ruby Mae

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