Our Story

We always knew we wanted to give our daughter Kinsley a sibling, so when we found out we were pregnant with our second child in 2020 we were thrilled. We did the pregnancy announcements and the gender reveal, which revealed we were having another little girl.

We prepped early and enjoyed getting her nursery ready and getting Kinsley involved in the process as well. Kinsley had just turned one when we got pregnant, so she vaguely knew that mommy had a baby in her stomach. She really just enjoyed going into baby sister’s room and helping.

This pregnancy was uneventful compared to Kinsley’s, who had started pushing down on my cervix around week 23. I was monitored very closely with Kinsley and considered high-risk. Thus, with our second pregnancy they treated me as a high-risk pregnancy in the beginning. I had a hematoma that showed up in the first trimester, but started to diminish as the pregnancy went on. Once I hit week 24 they said everything looked great and I didn’t need to come in as often.

I thought we were in the clear and we were just counting down the weeks for our little girl’s arrival. As we drew closer to our due date, we wondered everyday when she would make her appearance. Kinsley broke my water and arrived exactly on her due date. I figured it would be somewhat similar.

40 weeks came and went and there was no sign of labor. Saturday, April 10th- 40 weeks and 3 days still no sign of labor. I remember sitting on our couch, talking to Ken’s sister, telling her I don’t know when this little girl is going to come and if she doesn’t come by Monday that we most likely will be talking about induction.

April 11, 2021- It’s pretty common in your third trimester to wake at all hours of the night, especially to use the bathroom. I woke up around 2am, unable to sleep. Something felt off, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything. I tried to fall back asleep, but woke up again around 3am with what felt like constipation. I thought maybe they were Braxton Hicks and I would monitor everything the next few hours. I went to the bathroom twice more and by 5am I woke my husband up and told him I think it might be contractions. I called our doctors who said they thought it might be contractions as well and to start getting our stuff together to head to the hospital.

We gathered all of our items and started to load the car. Kinsley woke up at 6am. Our dog Bryce was pacing back and forth. I’m not sure if both could sense that there was this energy in the house, but Ken and I knew the drill and got ready to drop off Kinsley with my sister. We dropped off Kinsley, ran through some of the last minute details with my sister and got back in the car to head to the Hospital. I remember Ken and I were so excited. We were ready to meet our second daughter. I vividly remember taking a video of us in the car telling our daughter that we were heading to the hospital and we couldn’t wait to meet her.

It was still the height of the pandemic so when we arrived my husband Ken was told to wait downstairs until I got checked in with the Labor & Delivery floor. It was 7:15am when we arrived. I gave him a kiss and a hug and told him I’d see him upstairs soon. I took the elevator up, checked in and was put into a room to start going through the basics. Again, all so familiar. I undressed, put on the hospital gown and waited for the nurse to hook up the heart monitor to my belly to listen to her heartbeat. The nurse put the doppler over my belly and passed the wand over a few times. Northing. She tried to make light of it after a few seconds, saying oh baby where are you, but my heart was racing. I knew our daughter was going to be bigger than Kinsley and we had always heard her heartbeat within seconds. She passed the wand over my stomach again. Still nothing. At this point, I was in panic mode, but the nurse said not to worry. I’m going to get an ultrasound machine and I’ll grab one of the doctors as well.

She left to go grab the machine and I sat in the room all by myself, staring at the wall in front of me. My heart was racing and I kept telling myself, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, but deep down I knew something wasn’t right. The nurse rolled the ultrasound machine in and passed the doppler across my stomach again. I will never ever forget what I saw in front of me…my daughter wasn’t moving. It was a still image of her on the screen. At 7:37am I heard the most gut wrenching words that no parent ever wants to hear, “I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.” I couldn’t breathe. How? Why?? My world came crashing in and I felt a panic attack set in. I was shaking as I called Ken, frantically saying the words, “Ken, there’s no heartbeat. They can’t find her heartbeat. She’s passed away.”

As the doctor came in to confirm, Ken also came running in. Our world forever changed in that moment. We both were shocked, crying and just kept asking how and why. We called our parents, our siblings and close relatives to let them know what just had happened. To this day, I remember making the phone calls and telling them she didn’t make it, but the conversations are such a blur. I think my brain and PTSD took over. I felt nothing and everything at the same time.

During all of this my contractions were starting to get intense. I was 6 to 7 centimeters dilated when they moved us to a bigger room, all the way down, away from all of the other moms delivering. I thank God everyday they did that for us. I can’t imagine hearing another woman going through labor and hearing babies crying.

Things were moving fast and I was dilating at a quicker pace than Kinsley. On top of being in general labor pain I was also crying, trying to figure out what the heck happened in less than 24 hours. The doctor asked me when was the last time I felt her move. My brain was trying to recall, trying to do a flashback of the day before. From what I recall, it was around 2pm in the afternoon, and I didn’t think anything of it because she never moved during the day or early evening. It was always later into the night.

I was 10cm dilated, getting an epidural and having the doctors tell us that sometimes in stillborn cases you never fully know the reason. They were preparing us before delivering her. I kept thinking, just push Tanya. Maybe they’re wrong. I started actively pushing around 12:30pm and at 1:47pm, April 11, 2021 our sweet girl was born. Ryleigh Sienna Jacobi came into this world born sleeping. 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 21 inches long. She was perfect.

The same doctor who told us we might not know what happened to her was our delivering doctor. She looked up at Ken and I and said I think I know what caused her to pass away. We both looked and Ryleigh’s umbilical cord was wrapped around her feet and ankles. We will never one hundred percent know, but we think once the contractions started in the middle of the night, the cord was pulled tightly.

We were able to spend a few hours with Ryleigh. I gave her so many kisses and I remember her soft cheeks. She had my olive skin and dark hair. Those hours with her went by so fast. Knowing I had to say goodbye was the hardest thing I will ever have to do in my lifetime. There are no words to describe the feeling you have watching your child be taken away from you for the very last time. We will never get to hold her or kiss her again.

Your world forever changes. We knew our life would never be the same again. That we would walk out of that hospital new people. We miss Ryleigh every second of everyday. She is a huge part of our daily life, even though she isn’t here. We left the hospital on April 12th and just wanted to be back with our daughter Kinsley. The days and hours trying to navigate this new life was daunting. Ken and I had no clue where to turn. How to find the help and support we both desperately needed. We spent hours Googling resources, support groups, funeral arrangements, etc. on top of taking care of a toddler and navigating our grief.

I knew in those first few days, I never wanted any parent to have to experience trying to find the best resources like we had to. Ken and I brainstormed for several months how we wanted to help others, while honoring our daughter Ryleigh. On a much needed trip to Costa Rica in September of 2021, we came up with Ryleigh’s Resources.

Please know we are here for you. That this site is here to help guide you through your own journey of grief. We know the journey isn’t linear for everyone. If we can be of any help, please send us a message. We have been where you are in those first few hours, days, weeks and months and continue to go through our own journey of grief.