Ruby Lee's arrival into the world was supposed to be a joyful moment. Born on June 3rd, 2025, at 4:14 pm, labor had been smooth, and everything seemed fine. But as he took his first breaths, concerns arose. The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck wasn't the primary worry; it was his oxygen levels that refused to stabilize. Nurses rushed in, their reassurances a comforting presence as they worked to get Ruby's O2 stats back on track. The minutes ticked by – two, three, four – each one feeling like an eternity. The NICU team was called down, and then, in a moment that felt almost miraculous, Ruby's oxygen levels began to climb as if he'd heard the call for help. We breathed a collective sigh of relief, thinking the crisis had passed. Kayla cradled Ruby in her arms, and I, feeling a sense of normalcy returning, decided to grab some food for her. She hadn't eaten in hours, and a trip to Culver's seemed like just what she needed. While I was away, family members snuggled and took pictures with Ruby – Aunt Loryn, Aunt Morgyn, Grandma Lisa, and Grandma Taryn all got their turn. But my relief was short-lived. When I returned to the room, Ruby was gone, and his oxygen levels had plummeted again. The medical team reassured us it was just a matter of clearing meconium from his lungs, and we'd be okay. We settled into a new room, waiting for what felt like an eternity. It was midnight before we could visit Ruby in the NICU. Kayla went first, as we could only go one at a time. I waited anxiously until, finally, 10 hours after his birth, I held Ruby in my arms. He was surrounded by IVs and a CPAP machine, but the staff kept telling us it was just his lungs acting up – a common issue, they said. The next morning brought more tests and consultations. The NICU doctor suspected Ruby's posturing might be a sign of seizures, but thankfully, that wasn't the case. Instead, the diagnosis was aortic stenosis. The medical team sprang into action, calling Riley Hospital, and within hours, Ruby was intubated, placed in a mobile incubation unit, and on his way to receive the care he desperately needed. As I stood in the hospital room, surrounded by the beeping machines and sterile white walls, I felt like I was crumbling from the inside out. Ruby's tiny body, hooked up to tubes and wires, seemed so fragile. My heart ached with every glance at his tiny face, his tiny hands. But I couldn't fall apart. Not yet. Kayla needed me to be strong, to be her rock. The kids needed me to be their dad, their protector. So I put on a brave face, forced a smile, and pretended everything would be okay. The weight of it all was suffocating. The uncertainty, the fear, the helplessness. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of what-ifs. What if Ruby does not make it? What if the surgery does not work? What if..... But I couldn't let those thoughts consume me. Not now. I had to be the one Kayla leaned on, the one who whispered "it's going to be okay" in her ear. I had to be the one who held it together, no matter how shattered I felt. It was exhausting. The pretending, the putting on a brave face, the being strong. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, when the kids were asleep and Kayla was distracted, I'd let my guard down. I'd let the tears fall, let the fear creep in. But only for a moment. Because then I'd hear Ruby's heart monitor beeping, and I'd snap back into reality. I'd wipe away the tears, put on a smile, and be the rock again. I didn't know how much longer I could keep this up. The stress of it all was eating away at me, making me short-tempered and snappish. But for Ruby, for Kayla, for my kids, I'd find a way to keep going. I'd find a way to be the rock they needed, no matter how hard it got. As we navigate the uncertainty of Ruby's health, we're also facing a new challenge: financial strain. After using up our paid leave, we've hit an empty pocket to cover the costs of staying near the hospital. The hotel has been a temporary solution, but it's becoming unsustainable. We've applied to stay at the Ronald McDonald House, which would not only provide us with a place to stay but also a sense of community and support. However, there's a waiting list, and we're eagerly awaiting a spot. With open-heart surgery on the horizon, we want to be by Ruby's side as much as possible. The medical team has decided this is the best course of action after other attempts haven't shown improvement. We're grateful for the care and expertise of the doctors at Riley Hospital, but we're also aware of the financial burden that comes with it. We're doing our best to balance our financial worries with the emotional demands of caring for Ruby. It's a challenging time, but we're holding on to hope and the support of our loved ones. As we prepare for Ruby Lee's open-heart surgery on June 25th, we're counting on the support of loved ones to help get through this challenging time. Tyler Douglas and Kayla are staying strong for their little one, but the financial strain of being away from home for an extended period is starting to take its toll. Any prayers, well-wishes, or monetary assistance would be greatly appreciated as they navigate this journey. The Ronald McDonald House would provide a much-needed break from hotel costs, but unfortunately, there's a waiting list. In the meantime, any help with expenses would go a long way in ensuring the family can focus on Ruby's recovery and getting him home safely. Let's come together to support this family during this difficult time. Your kindness and generosity can make a big difference in Ruby's journey towards healing and recovery.