Chapter Four - Ruby Jade Brown #2
And here she now sat in the half light, the room bathed in the glow of the moon that shone through the kitchen window, as truly, without expectation or belief, she placed her palms flat on the surface where she had eaten a thousand meals, played hundreds of card and board games with her ailing dad, laughed over Christmas lunch with her brother, and wept on the day they'd said goodbye to her dad.
All of it right here at this four-foot square of yellow Formica that was the centre of their world.
It was a strange sensation, as the clock struck.
A juddering almost, a bit like an earthquake, or so she imagined.
The blood raced in her veins and a plug of fear in her throat made breathing tricky.
And then, instantly, everything was calm, and Ruby knew where she was, transported to a place, recognisable by no more than the sounds that both filled her dreams and fuelled her nightmares.
If you've never heard it, then lucky old you.
It would be hard to properly and adequately explain not only the noises, but, more importantly, the way they made her feel. She'd buried a lot of it, did her best to dismiss it from her thoughts. Evidently so as this sudden immersion took her right back to that day, that terrible, terrible day.
The room was reverentially silent like a place of worship, a description that wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
The quiet punctuated only by the symphony of beeps, blips, buzzers and bells.
Complicated machinery that kept tiny hearts beating and impossibly small lungs inflating.
It was overwhelming, to be there among the sterile, shiny, invasive equipment, all designed to keep the blood of the most fragile, tiny people pumping around their bodies.
Her own heart thumped with the same level of anxiety she'd felt on that day.
The air of the NICU carried a particular weight, which was little to do with the overly warm, oppressive temperature, entirely necessary, of course.
But more the expectation and prayers of everyone present exhaled into the small space.
It was as if she could taste the sorrow, could breathe in the hope and longing.
The mental negotiating of deals that would never be done, and yet, everyone tried hard.
‘Take me instead, let it be me, give him a chance!’
‘Let her live, I’m begging you! I just want her to have the opportunity to grow and live and breathe and succeed and be happy! Oh for her to be happy! Please, please!’
‘I will never ask for anything again, not ever! I just want to see her first nativity, first day at school, her wedding day. I want to see it all, please, please, please, please…’
‘Not him, not him, not him, not my most precious boy! Save him!’
Those who sat patiently by the side of the plastic incubators could barely meet each other’s eye.
Ruby understood. Remembering how she had stared at those tiny babies, praying with every fibre of her being, hoping it was not her baby who succumbed.
Horrendously and unthinkably navigating the thought that, if one had to go, then please, please let it be another person who was handed that small, wrapped bundle.
Watching helplessly, as machines were unplugged, voices lowered, and prayers whispered sensitively into the ether.
Wanting the wail of distress to come from another mother, meaning it was not her turn, anything but that!
Oh what a truly sorrowful and most desperate state of affairs.
Ruby had prayed constantly, prayed day and night for a miracle. The doctor had been kind, yet blunt,
‘I would say that her chances are slim. I’m so sorry, Ruby, but I think you need to accept that she is very, very poorly and only getting weaker. If it wasn’t for the interventions that are helping to keep her here, then…’
‘Is it better we let her go, is she in pain?’ Marvin had asked, and she’d wanted to leap at him, claws out, chest heaving, a rage of anger and distress ready to spew from her.
‘Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare, Marvin! We will fight for her; we will fight with her!’ she’d screamed.
He’d stared at her, eyes wide, his face so desperately sad, ‘But what if she doesn’t have any fight left Ruby? What if she’s tired and just wants to rest. What if she wants to go home?’ he whispered.
‘Get away from me!’ she had responded, standing up straight, resisting the urge to fall to the floor and beat her fists as she wept. ‘Get away from me!’
That exchange had proved the beginning of the end. The two youngsters worlds apart and without the history or depth of foundation to find a way forward. Strangers really who were forever bound by this life changing thing.
The last days had understandably been the worst. Indelibly etched in her thoughts and still with the power to shake her from sleep in the early hours.
There appeared to be little physical change in her daughter’s condition, but there was a conversation when a nurse had come into Ruby’s room, opened a window and the warm air had rushed out into the world along with the last remaining vestiges of hope.
The nurse’s words had echoed, as if delivered under water. And Ruby, submerged in a sea of sadness and fatigue had done her best to decipher them.
Three years had passed, and she was still trying to make sense of it all. The nurse, whose face she could picture, but name she couldn’t recall, stood by the side of her bed.
‘The thing is, Ruby, this might be your last chance.’
‘I don't, don't want to, don't want to hold her or say goodbye. I, I can't!’ The thought of her baby slipping away in her arms, the idea of watching her take her last breath, how could any mother agree to that? It was a feeling deeper than fear.
‘I know you say that now,’ the nurse had carried on, speaking quietly, yet undeterred, ‘and I’m not in any way trying to coerce or encourage you into a decision, but I can give you the benefit of my experience and tell you that, sadly, I've been here many, many times before. More times than I would care to count, and every single person who has taken the chance to hold their little one and say goodbye has found comfort in it.’
‘I can’t do it.’ She’d shaken her head resolutely, wishing that Marvin were there, wishing she hadn’t sent him away. Wishing so many things…
‘I can’t imagine what you are going through, dear.
But I do think the comfort it brings, holding her, might not be immediate, but might help you find peace in the future.
I know this because those people, the mums and dads, they write, and they tell me.
They say they have no regrets, and that it helped. ’
‘I’m not those people.’ Ruby might be young, but she knew her mind, knew what action she needed to take, to get through this, to survive.
‘True, everyone’s different.’ The nurse’s tone was kindly, ‘It’s your decision, Ruby.’
She nodded, unable to admit that it felt almost impossible to make the decision with every fibre of her being in pain. Her skin inflamed, her limbs cumbersome, her brain foggy, heart breaking and her thoughts wild.
‘I think if I don't see her at the end, don't touch her, then I can picture her in that little plastic cot, but still here. It'll be easier to handle, easier to forget the end. Easier to forget it all.’
‘But maybe holding her, saying goodbye might make it easier to remember her?’ the woman gave a half smile.
‘I don't want the image of her, the knowledge of her, the scent of her, the feel of her against my skin.
I don't want it. I can't cope. I can't, I can't! I’m supposed to go home with my baby, not hold her and watch her take her last breath and, then what, hand her over to who? How would I do that? And where will they take her, what then?’
She had shaken her head at the horror that lurked in her thoughts.
‘Okay, Ruby. Okay.’ The nurse had then pulled the top sheet on her bed taut, patted her on the leg and left the room with a long, lingering look over her shoulder, which Ruby caught. A look that was silently pleading yet understanding too.
It was the most horrific of situations, something she could never have imagined.
Her pregnancy had been a surprise. Actually, not a surprise, a shock.
She and Marvin, acquaintances at best. She fancied him.
Liked his company. He made her laugh. But did she love him?
No, she barely knew him. Did she envisage a future with him?
No, nothing like that. They'd simply made a mistake, a drunken mistake, which had been fun and frivolous, nothing more.
Until it was something so much more, the truth staring at her as she held those two plastic oar shaped sticks in the bathroom, having unceremoniously peed on them.
Knowing, before those little lines of confirmation popped up in the small result window, exactly what would be revealed.
She might only have been nineteen but understood her body well enough to know what missed periods, sore boobs and that awful metallic taste in her mouth, meant.
Telling her mum had been the hardest of all, and, to her eternal shame, it was a relief that her dad wasn't around to be part of the fiasco, to see his face crumple in disappointment the way her mum's did.
‘Not my Ruby, not my little girl, not clever, clever you! You’re going to university, you’re going to do great things, take over the world!
That’s what you’ve worked so hard for! This foolishness is what happens to other people, silly girls who are careless, who don't know how to take care of themselves! Not you, Ruby!’
Turns out that was Ruby. She was silly and careless and didn't know how to take care of herself. But she was determined to figure out how to take care of her baby. At least in that regard she could step up to the plate and do a great thing. University would wait, but she’d still make it, she was sure.
Plenty of other women did it, it was all about timing and planning, she’d figure it out.