Baby's First (and hopefully only) "Sext" Ever

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Yesterday, Daddy and I went to the 20-week ultrasound (anatomy scan) for your littlest sibling. Among other things, we found out the gender. I figured I should try to do the gender reveal in a clever, yet non-nauseating way. While I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that I had actually gotten to the point where I was excited about sharing the gender news with friends and family. This was a breakthrough for me.

You might ask, "Why wouldn't you be excited, Mommy?" For people who haven't lost a child, their natural inclination is to look forward to finding out the gender (mine definitely was when we went to the scan for you.) However, for us now it's a whole different bucket of emotions and obsessions. Sunday afternoon I felt the knot in my stomach. By the evening, I was pretty spaced out and not really focusing on the things going on around me. Monday morning, I was even more anxious, a bit testy, and short with both Daddy and Joss. I was probably even more nervous about this ultrasound than I was with your sister. I'm another year older; another year increases the chances of genetic problems with the baby. Along with that, every physical anomaly I had ever heard about in our support groups blinded me as it flashed into my brain. Every diagnosis that was "incompatible with life" played itself out as a cacophonous tune in my head. I was overwhelmed. Normal people don't think like this. They think "I can't wait to find out if the baby is a boy or girl!" They might also spend a few minutes on "I hope s/he is healthy," but not to the extent that people who have lived through the death of a child and the subsequent sharing of hundreds of awful, awful stories that no one should have to tell or hear do. When we say, "We don't care what the gender is, we just hope the baby is healthy," we mean it with our whole hearts.

So, bright and early Monday morning, we anxiously made our way to the perinatal center, where we expected to see a different ultrasound technician than our favorite tech who knew our family's story and did all of Joslyn's scans. When we scheduled our appointment, we were told that she was not in on Mondays. Much to my great surprise, Ana popped her head into the waiting room and said "How are you guys? You're pregnant again? How wonderful!" My anxiety eased just a tad as I said a little prayer of thanks for putting her on the schedule that day. Before we started the hour-long test, Ana asked how my anxiety level was with this pregnancy. I told her I was mostly okay except for the last 24 hours. Then the tears came. She handed me tissues and said everything is going to be great with this one. As she patiently and painstakingly walked us through every anatomical structure and measurement, explaining what they meant, she reassured us that the baby was beautiful and everything was looking good. Another breath and release of tension. The perinatal specialist then came in to go over a few of the same things and also talked to us about the risk of Down Syndrome. Panic. She reassured us that at this juncture, everything is pointing to a healthy baby and that we're not going to talk about potential problems any more. Breathe. "We're going to do the same routine that we did with Joslyn, OK?" I nodded in the affirmative. This means lots of ultrasounds, non-stress tests, blood tests, and doctor visits. I'm okay with that, because clearly I need the reassurance that these tests bring, even though the time leading up to each one is stressful.

After we left the appointment and my anxiety level started to return to an acceptable level, I starting processing everything. I thought to myself, "For now, this baby is healthy. I'm going to rejoice in that bit of news and go from here." I thanked God for giving us the gift of another baby when I wasn't sure I would even have one to hold in my arms. I also thanked him for the staff at Holy Tony's Perinatal Center and their compassion, as well as the good news we got from the scan. Then I pictured you and Joslyn chatting about whether you wanted a brother or sister. [I'm sure she's communicating with you when she stands in front of your curio cabinet and stares, or when she holds on to your Jordyn-Bear with all her strength.] Did the conversation go something like this?

Joslyn: "Mommy's having a baby."
Jordyn: "Yes, and I already have a little sister, so I want a brother."
Joslyn: "What's a brother?"
Jordyn: "It's a boy that is related to you."
Joslyn: "Oh, then I want something else. What's it called when it's a girl related to you?"
Jordyn: "A sister. I'm your sister."
Joslyn: "Oh, I already have one, then. OK, I'll take a brother."
Jordyn: "I'll tell God."

And so it was done. Baby Sander #3 is, indeed, a little boy.

His first (and hopefully only) "sext."

Clever, huh? ;)

Thanks for helping God decide how to round out our family, baby girl. I love you!

Love,

"One of Each"

Dear Jordy-Bug,

It's been quite a while since I've written. In my defense, I've been pretty exhausted since May. This little Jellybean sibling of yours is taking quite a toll on me in the form of exhaustion and periodic morning sickness. I didn't really have either of those issues with you or your Sissy. So, my theory is that this one is a boy. We won't find out for sure until October (yes, we're finding out...I'm a planner and Daddy doesn't like surprises), but my gut instinct says 'boy' because this pregnancy is so different from the other two.

This topic has come up a lot lately because people naturally ask, "How are you feeling?" and "Do you know what you're having?" I usually tell them "Tired and queasy, so I'm guessing it's a boy." I think I'm going to stop saying that, though, because on multiple occasions, the person asking then says, "Oh, that would be great, because then you'd have one of each!"

Ummm.

No.

I have three children.

At this point, I can either choose to make the conversation awkward, or I can walk away. I generally excuse myself without further ado.

I try to remind myself that most people have good intentions, but I would be ever so grateful if they would think before they speak. As I've stated before, one of my worst fears is that people forget you. It's easy for them to remember Joslyn because she's right here with us, and her antics are captured in photos and videos on a daily basis. You're not here physically. There are no new photos of you to post on Facebook. You're in my heart, but most people can't see what's in my heart. Sometimes I wish they'd look just a little harder...

I love and miss you, Bug.

Love,

April Showers

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Wow. I'm so glad April is finished. You'd think that March would be the most difficult month for us, but April was actually worse this year. My theory is that because Grandma Nockerts visited us during the last week of March, we enjoyed our time with her and sort of put off grieving your second anniversary in heaven. Then she flew back to Texas, and it hit us in it's entirety.

I've cried a lot since the end of March. In fact, I gave a new meaning to the phrase "April showers." Gobs of little things have come up this month that have exacerbated our already raw emotions, and I'm afraid I haven't handled them well at all. For instance, Daddy and I needed to get some paperwork together for a project, which included two years of former tax returns. When I pulled out the 2012 and 2013 returns, this is the first thing my eyes went to:

 

I'm not sure what was worse, 

seeing "DIED" next to your name on the 2012 return 

or not seeing you at all on the one from 2013. 

Either way, I cried.

Something as negligible as a tax return, a harmless question, a hastily scrawled note or muttered phrase, one little line in a song, a promise not fulfilled, a seemingly innocuous movie reference, news of a development I didn't expect, a misunderstanding with a colleague at work,...moreover all the obvious triggers like a pregnancy or birth announcement, seeing the last name of our NICU doctor on a standardized test booklet, or the myriad "sisters" memes on social media that remind me Joslyn will never truly understand what it means to have a big sister to protect her, teach her, and love her. These are the mundane things in life that send a bereaved mother over the edge. So many things. Every. Day.

I'm fairly confident that many people in our lives think we're "okay" now. We go about our daily activities with relative normality. But they don't see the anxiety, they don't see the tears, and they don't realize how fragile we are emotionally. I used to consider myself a pretty resilient person. Not any more. I overreact to situations, or I freeze and don't react at all. Then when I get to a more private place, I rant, scream, and/or cry. At least I'm getting it out of my system, but then I'm left with regret at the way I reacted (or didn't react) in the first place. [This is probably the stuff I should be unloading on a therapist not a 2-year-old, huh? Fair enough. I'll stop now, but it's making me feel a little better, so I can't promise it won't happen again. ツ]

So, it's May now. April is behind us. I don't know why I think the flipping of a calendar page will make everything better, but I have faith in new beginnings. A new month, season, school year...they all hold promise and hope. I'm not sure what this month will bring, but I'm banking on the "May flowers." We've had enough rain.

On a happier note, here's your baby sister on her 9-month birthday.
Though you can't be here to protect her on earth,
I sure hope you're watching over her from heaven.
She needs you. We all do.

Thank you for listening, Bug. I love you and miss you more and more with every passing moment!

Love,

God's Grander Plan

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I'm not sure why I never posted the Voices from the Rooftop service that Daddy and I participated in back in May 2012 (one day shy of your 2-month Angelversary), so I'm doing it now. Voices from the Rooftop is an opportunity for people in the congregation at Rooftop to share how the sermon series has affected them. I'd never been compelled to share during these opportunities in the past. However, I felt called to tell your story to our church family (and now to whoever comes across this blog), because you have had such a profound effect on so many people.

The sermon series that led up to this was called "Live to Tell: Why Telling People about Jesus is our Greatest Purpose in Life." God used the most difficult and trying time in our lives to show Himself to others. God worked through you and through us to reach many, many people with His grace and His love. We may not like that you had to leave us so soon, but He has a much grander plan for you than any of us could have imagined.

Some of this video may be a bit unintelligible as I stumble over some words, and I sniff a lot in an effort to hold back the tears. But I'm hoping that it's not so distracting that you can't make it through to hear what we have to say. I am grateful to have had Daddy at my side to help me through. Our part begins at 0:25:26, but the other speakers have important stories to share too. So if you have time, watch the whole thing.

This is for you, Bug. We hope we made you and God proud. We love you both. 

Voices from the Rooftop, 5.27.2012

"What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight. What is whispered in your ear, shout from the rooftops." --Matthew 10:27 (In case you were curious where the name of our church comes from. ;)

Love,

Birthday Eve #2...Without You

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I thought your birthday this year would be a little easier. I expected fewer tears and more smiles as we celebrate your entry into our world. I guess because that entry was fraught with uncertainty, anxiety, downright fear, and an incredibly unhappy ending, I don't enjoy your birthday as much as a "regular mom" would. I do, however, enjoy it more than the anniversary of your death. Selfishly, I look back and wish we had kept you on life support a little longer so that not only could we soak you in a bit more, but so that your death would have occurred in April. Because right now, March is an emotional roller coaster that is just too much for me.

I thought your baby sister would make this time a little easier to navigate. Joslyn brings us such joy and has given me great comfort when I'm missing you, yet the moments we share are also so bittersweet at times like these. Now that she's with us, I am acutely aware of what I have been missing without you here. Every new thing she learns, every sweet smile, every precious giggle--oh, that giggle (it's by far, the best sound in the whole world), every time she reaches for me with that groggy look in her big blue eyes, every "conversation" we have, every cherished snuggle session...is tinged with some sadness because you're not here to experience those things too. I don't know what I'd do without her, yet I don't know how I'm living without you...

I thought scaling back and having a quiet birthday celebration for you would be the right thing for us this year, but I regret not planning something because it helped me focus my sadness into something productive last year. Now I have plenty of time to process my emotions (I know, I know, that's healthy) and the tears have been flowing mightily.

I thought, I thought, I thought.

I think too much.

So, I'll try not to think anymore tonight, and tomorrow we'll read your card to you, sing "Happy Birthday," blow out the candles on your birthday cake, and release some bright green balloons to honor you on your special day. Enjoy your celebration in heaven with Jesus, Grandpa Nockerts, and all the other children gone too soon (especially a sweet little girl named Adalyn Rose, who is having her first birthday up there with you.) Be sure to close your eyes, make a wish, and then catch those balloons, baby girl!

We love our little toddler!

Love,

You're Still a Big Deal

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I can't believe you're going to be two years old on Friday (Pi Day.) Two! Every day I wonder what you'd be doing, how your personality would have developed, what you would love, what you would dislike, if your hair would still be crazy-funky, and on and on. I just wish I could see you, hold you, talk with you...(tears).

Last year on your birthday, we had a big party with lots of guests, balloons, food, beverages, and a special cake. This year we're not doing that. This year, I just need to be with your Daddy and your Sissy and remember you with a little less fanfare. We'll still have a really cool cake and bright green balloons, so get ready to catch them. But it'll just be our little family honoring you privately. I think that's okay. It needs to be okay. I'm afraid, though, if we have a quiet day, people might think that you're not a big deal any more. Let's face it, you're a HUGE deal. You always will be to Daddy and me...and someday to your little sister, Joslyn. I just wanted you to know that.

Ladybug posing with Joslyn.

I love you, Bug.

P.S. Thank you for sending a ladybug to visit us during the Sander family photo session on Saturday. I couldn't believe it when Daddy looked up and saw one perched on the ceiling just above where we were assembling to take a photo. Until this point, I hadn't seen one since before you were born. This one never moved the entire time we were there. It was pretty cool.


Love,

My Mini-Me

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I've been thinking a lot lately about how much I love watching your little sister do just about anything...play with her toes, suck on her finger, explore her toys and books, grab at the kitties, bounce in her Jumparoo, sing herself to sleep, or even just stare at Daddy with her big blue eyes. Lots of people say, "I can't wait until my baby [crawls, walks, talks, etc.], but I am content to enjoy Joslyn right now, right where she is developmentally. It sounds cliché, but I cherish every moment that I get to watch her become who she is going to be...and I regret the time I don't get to spend with her.

This thought process, of course, always brings me back to you. I look at your photos while I'm holding her, acutely aware that the images will never change. You'll never age. Ever. I wonder what you'd be doing if you were still here with us and what your 6-month, 1-year, and soon-to-be 2-year photos would look like. As Joss grows and develops, it makes me increasingly sad that we don't get to see you do the same. I hope and I pray that when (if?) I get to heaven, God lets me play back your life (even if it's on fastforward) so that I can watch you grow up too.

It's pretty evident that your sister is a mini-Daddy, and I'm becoming more and more convinced that you are my mini-Me. I'd like the chance to see how that all plays out.

I love you with all my heart, Bug.

Love,