The Sunshine of Ruby Jo:An Origin Story

 Ruby Jo - I never put your birth story down onto paper, because life, and 2 kids, and the madness of motherhood. But I remember it so vividly, and think of it often, the day we met.

You were due on February 9, 2019 - a Saturday. I had a feeling you weren't far off. I started off the morning with a non-stress test to see how you were looking on the inside because a few days prior your heartrate was a little high so they wanted to check in on you! You looked stupendous so they let me go for a day of business as usual at 2 cm dilated, and with the information that you were "Probably a big baby because they could feel parts everywhere!" Your big sister Ro was with Grandma and Grandpa but we decided to pick her up knowing that the next time we dropped her off with grandma and grandpa it would probably be go time. And there it was, our last night of a family of 3. Uneventful. 

And in the morning I was pretty certain you were on the way because I lost my mucus plug which was exactly what marked my start of labor the first go around. So we coordinated with Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy dropped Rosie off in the early afternoon while I started to field the contractions. So slowly. All afternoon they felt so far apart, 10 minutes, then maybe 6 minutes, then more stretches of 10-13 minutes. So by early evening I decided to make a move. We went to Costco for a leisurely stroll, which I hoped would speed up labor and then to top it off went to Buffalo Wild Wings where I ordered some hot delicious wings to try and smoke you out.

At 7:01 I texted the doula "Having some contractions but they are pretty sporadic still (anywhere from 10-20 mins apart) but wanted to keep you posted"

But 7:34 pm I texted Grandma, "Contractions seem to be getting more consistent now, will keep you posted" And low and behold sitting there in a BWW I could tell things were happening, the whole meal I kept timing the contractions and they were consistently getting closer together. Labor was actually starting!! You were coming!

Once we got home from dinner, I would say I really started laboring. I got my head phones and started a rotation of moving from the couch to the tub and back. I played a ton of Schitt's Creek because it was a new show to me at the time and was quite cheerful. Dad was an immense help as he used the shower wand to keep hot water cascading down my back. 

And so it went for the next 6 hours or so. Breathing through contractions, timing them, trying to stay comfortable and knowing I had done this before. Until 3:30 when we knew we needed to make a decision. It was to the point where contractions were getting so bad I was dreading being in a car and staying in the same position for more than 15 minutes, so I kept putting it off because I wanted to stay at home, but I also knew that the longer I put it off the worse it would be. And of course, in true Devin fashion, your Dad kept saying things like "It's up to you, we will go whenever you say - I'm not the one who can make that call." THEN WHAT CAN YOU DO??

At 3:36 we texted the doula, "Average over the past hour was 53 seconds long and 5:10 apart". She asked about the intensity and I said definitely getting worse. So after more laboring (time is a joke during labor 5 minutes is an hour and hour is a blip, nothing makes sense!) we decided to head to the hospital at 4:40 am on February 11. I of course, was hoping this is the day you would come! But knowing how long it took with your sister I was cautiously optimistic. When we arrived Dad helped me in, the night sky still black even as people began to wake up to start their day. Millions of people around us rising to their alarms clocks, pouring their coffee, wiping the sleep from their eyes, and you about to start your whole life. 

I think back to that car ride sometimes. It wasn't as bad as I feared, though it wasn't great. At 5 minutes apart I know I would probably have to manage 3 contractions in the car on the way to the hospital. 1 minute each. 3 minutes of brutal strength and determination. The streets were absolutely silent and I just kept thinking the next time we pass down these streets we will have our Ruby girl. It was a drive that felt like an ending, closing one chapter, and the dawn of a new one. You on the horizon.

We met our doula outside the hospital at around 5:00 am and by this point things were INTENSE. I think this was when I really transitioned into the final stages of labor. You know the one where other pregnant women see you and then become terrified of what is to befall them. They checked me in, so many questions, and then checked me (and you). 8 cm and a bulging bag according to nurse Jenny. WE DID 8 CM AT HOME!! I was so freaking astonished. I literally could not wrap my head around the number because the first time around we arrived to the hospital at like 2 cm and everyone laughed at me and was like, "Oh child - it is gonna get SO much worse. Which it did. For 36 hours."

This time I was all - I am woman hear me roar! And you were still on the inside, but I know you were roaring in there too.

At 5:33, the Doula noted that Jenny drew my labs and started the IV, and at 5:45 you looked good so continuous monitoring was removed which was awesome because then I could move around again. 

Thank the lord. A 5:50 our midwife Jenna arrived (who was pregnant at the time and how freaking cool is that?) 

5:53 I get into the tub. Hot water. Please. Now. Anything. AHHHHH.

6:03 No. Now I am out the tub again because I am feeling pressure. The contractions become so uncomfortable I want to crawl out of my own skin, but that's not possible so physical movement helps. 

6:06 Midwife Jenna checks again - 8cm and -1 position, ruptured membranes

Here is where I hit the wall. I have now been at the hospital for an hour, dealing with the final intense stages of birth and I haven't progressed. I am discouraged to say the least and I feel like I can't do it. I mean I really feel like maybe this isn't possible. I cry and I shout and I stare into the face of your father who holds me, and reminds me to breath and I hear our doula telling me this is normal, this is exactly what should be happening, and I can do it. I move from my back to my hands and knees, just trying to make it through each contraction. At 6:40 I am like hey, y'all, I remember I think someone said we could have a nitrous oxide party up in here? Is that right? Who's got them good drugs?

Please. Literally. WHO HAS DRUGS?

But apparently the nitrous oxide isn't working (I will never know if this was real or a lie - in my heart I believe it was a white lie because the only person in the room who didn't think I could it was me) because not long after this I start pushing. I mean like maybe with 5 minutes? This is the most intense part. This is where I really need Devin, because I am scared. I am tense, and not listening to my body. My body is saying push, get this baby out, but when I relax enough to push it hurts SO much worse than when I am tensed up and not pushing. But they only way out, the only way to you, is through the pain. And the doula knows that, daddy knows that, the midwife knows it, they know physically I can do it. But mentally I am so freaking scared. So my team of cheerleaders talks me up, cutting through my own chats that I am not sure I can do it, and it hurts, and I am so scared. But I do it.

To get to you. I will walk through anything. Endure any pain. Fighting any monsters. I will always make my way to you.

At 7:01 with one last push you come out. Each push going against the parts of my brain meant to shield me from pain. But I can feel your head, and your body, and with one last push I feel the rush of your entire leave me. It feels slippery and instantaneous and within a second you are on me. And I can't believe it. 20 minutes prior I was begging for nitrous oxide, and with a few pushes, the final hurtle over the mountain, there you are. 

I LOVE this picture because I can feel this moment. 

I know, I am not even looking at you (sorry buddy) but I couldn't believe I had done it. And that was all I could say for the first few minutes, just over and over again, with elation, and pride, and relief, and awe in my voice. I did it. I did it? Me? I did it. She's here. I can't believe it. I had you on me for 34 blissful minutes during which time I deliver the placenta and they sew me up and I cut your cord - because I am a savage beast mama.

I ask daddy after a few minutes if he wants to hold you, but he doesn't want to take us apart yet. Your sister was whisked away from me so fast, he wants me to have this moment with you. Basking in our accomplishment, in your arrival, in our strength as a team, you, me, and daddy, in your beauty. 

At 7:35 they weigh you and measure you and Daddy holds you for the first time. 

At 7:42 you latch for the first time. 

You are beautiful, and strong, and I will forever be so greatful that we had the most empowering and beautiful birth together. I love you Ruby Jo. Don't you ever forget it.

To Ruby Jo, From Quarantine

15 months! My sweet Ruby Jo, I can't believe we have known you for 15 months, and my oh my, what an unpredictable turn this 2nd year of your life has taken.

You are at such a special age, not a baby anymore, you toddle about the house making your opinions known and asserting your knee-high authority. I used to joke that you were a second baby dream come true because you  joined our family as seamlessly as possible. I still think you have a natural calmness about you, but it isn't passive, you are strong willed and self assured, that has become abundantly clear.

I want to remember this time in our life and capture as much of your personality and spirit as I can. Your hair is straight up untameable which I love. It is getting long, and sticks up all over, and gets in your eyes, and I have no idea what to do with but it doesn't even matter. You are walking, quickly and confidently, so much more confidently than you were 2 months ago, but you still have enough wobble that Daddy and I can't help but smile when you come barreling down the hallway. Like a little drunk person who has arrived in the kitchen with such haste so as not to miss the snacks. And you are usually on the lookout for snacks. You have the world's greatest toddler hands, chubby and soft, and clinging to any piece of the world you get your hands on. Nothing is held by you gently or carelessly, each thing you make contact with is held in a tight death grip that results in us, your adult parents, having to exert honest effort to unhand the open markers (why do you love opening the markers so much?) and forks and tiny toys we know you are inevitably going to stick in your mouth.

You don't talk yet, but you sing! You sing "Into the Unknown" from Frozen and it's so spot on and inviting that it makes the rest of us sing along with you. One night I was laying in bed with you to help you fall asleep, when I started drifting off, and then the noise that roused me back awake was your soft voice trying to sing the words "Into the Unknown", and I couldn't believe it. But then weeks passed and I didn't hear it again, so I convinced myself I had actually just dreamt it until I finally heard it again clear as day! And then Daddy heard it to! And now you do it dozens of times a day and there is no mistaking that tune. Along with singing you get SO excited when you see the Disney logo for Disney+ which enrages Daddy, because capitalism, but warms my heart tremendously because I already know you and your sister are going to make such fantastic Disney memories together.

Even though you are bigger than your sister was at this age, you still let us rock you to sleep for every nap and every bedtime. Your Dad and I know this can't last forever, that some day, one that probably isn't that far away, you may be too big, too old, or too independent to fall asleep wrapped up in our arms. So for now we savor it. How you drift off, your eyes fluttering slowly until they land closed to carry you away to the safe space of your dreams. Your precious little hands, squishy with baby purity, but full of so much bursting potential. You hand usually lands on my chest, you reaching for me and being met with the warmth and safety of your mother. It won't always look like this. You wrapped in a blanket and contained within my two arms. Someday you will reach for me in other ways, when you need advice, or comfort, or camaraderie, or reassurance, or to remember what it's like to be small and shielded from everything the world could possibly throw at you. I promise I will always keep my arms open and waiting for you. A spot against my chest primed for your head to rest and empty itself of all the concerns you will come to know. As you sink deeper into your sleep, you grow so sweaty, your hair curling and becoming matted. You don't wake though.

You hate when we aren't all together, which is funny because this is probably the smallest house we will live in. 1000 sq feet means it isn't possible to be out of shouting distance from you. Still when I go into my office and leave you on the other side it is instant devastation from you. Bathroom breaks, quick trips to the kitchen, you make it clear that you do not want to be left behind. As if we could possibly forget you, our sweet Ruby Jo, our sunshine on the cloudiest of days. Though I admit while you love us and want to be near your family, you also don't want to miss the chance to head into the kitchen. You see yourself as such a big girl - wedging yourself into the fridge the minute it opens so you can point to all the foods you want (usually a guacamole and a hummus cup from the bottom right drawer, or berries of any shape, size, and color). You have also recently freed yourself from the highchair, screaming and fussing the minute we tried to put you in it, but sitting happily at the kitchen table in one of the big chairs. Although, you haven't quite realized that crawling on top of the table and dancing during dinner is not cool - even if it is SO adorable.

You are affectionate in all the best ways. You give us the sweetest baby hugs which involve leaning against us with all your weight and placing your head down onto us. It is so sweet, and our very own Ruby hack is the frown challenge. Anytime we ask for a hug and you toddle away, a little frown brings you racing back to cheer us up. You have love overflowing from you, and you share your sunshine in so many delightful ways. Offering your snacks to us, patting Rosie on the back or the head when she is in a bad mood. Your smile flashes its way into our lives almost every time someone makes eye contact with you, as if you're saying, it's so good to see you, I didn't know when it would happen again but I won't let a moment pass without telling you how you make me feel. You may not talk but you communicate. Trying to make us laugh with your "ghost" impression that you learned from Rosie, peekaboo - where's Ruby??, and your newfound shrug complete with exaggerated "I don't know" hand motions.

You are our light and joy and even when you are shrieking because we have done something to upset you, we couldn't be more thankful that you are ours.

Some snapshots from quarantine:

On our walks you either fall asleep or insist on walking, in this picture you fell asleep "driving" and sitting completely upright.