By Rebecca Glover
I popped on here with the thought to sit and write an inspiring, uplifting and encouraging article for the start of 2023, and believed I knew what would flow on to the page. However, I made one mistake- I found my little green book dating back to the year 2009.
This little green book was my diary, my journal, my sanity. As I re-read the words, I could feel the feelings like it was yesterday. My stomach started to churn, my heart began to skip a beat faster and faster, the jitters crawled through my veins and my breath became shallow. My mind and body are taken back to my once care-free and happy self before the roof came crashing down. This was when my soul started to dampen and fade away and my face gradually hardened from daily tears and the look of disbelief I shared in many doctors, hospital and therapy rooms.
This little book was my account of the minutes, hours and days that passed where I was searching for answers. I took every single opportunity I could to read medical papers, research articles, the million forms of therapy, both traditional and those not yet well known, I tracked down specialists and medical trials, travelling the country for help and answers. I spent each day meticulously dissecting every item of food, chemical, medication andointment which Ruby came in contact with to try and piece this puzzle together. I was trying to make my daughter whole again. I just wanted to help and fix her.
The diary entries read as:
“0-9 weeks (of age)- perfect”.
“9 weeks- 15 weeks- irritability, fussy feeding, eye rolling”
“blood in stool”
“bad day, convulsions”
“called Paed- he said he didn’t have time to talk to me and to make an appointment. I was hysterical”
“she screamed for 8 hours straight. NO ONE IS HELPING ME”
“no sleep”
“no one is listening”
“Getting to the end of my rope, wanting to escape, suicidal”
These are just some of the words I expressed at the time. During the years 2009-2011 I was in a world of grief. Feelings ranged from denial then immense anger, then came the bargaining and prayer through to depression and then one day acceptance settled in me. Acceptance is not an easy feat and one which required me to go through every single heart ache to get there. I had to lose myself to realise who, and what was right in front of me, and all that is inside of me.
Ruby has remained Ruby. Ruby is and will always be her whole, beautiful, selfless, and inspiring self. It was I that I’ve been trying to fix and find all along.
Although that is a hard pill to swallow, and far from what I knew or realised at the time, I now realise that I had to go through all I did. I needed to learn what true determination and not settling for the unexplained medical condition was. I needed to truly experience what life can be like when all you are living for is your true, raw and scarred existence. More importantly, the selfless act of living each day fighting for and celebrating the pure existence of the child you birthed.
After weeks and months on end in and out of the children’s hospital, I remember the day that one doctor said to me “take her home and enjoy her. We don’t know what is going on and we don’t have the answers”. I stood up wearily from the hospital bed, looked him in the eyes and with a tear falling nodded my head and said, ‘thank you for believing’. He looked at me, nodded with approval and empathy and walked away.
That afternoon we left. We left with a new version of life. Our new chapter full of hope, possibility, opportunity and a desire to push boundaries. This was the moment I discovered me and all I believed in. This was the new chapter and the quest for having faith in myself and all that is possible when you trust yourself and a higher purpose.
Thanks to those wise words in the hospital that day, we enjoy each and every day we have together.
