NICU Remembrance Day

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Last week I had a dream about you. This is only the second time it's happened since you died. Your sister, your brother, and you were playing on Mommy and Daddy's bed. As the big sister, you were making sure they didn't get too rowdy or fall off. You were exactly as I have pictured you in my mind: sweet, loving, protective, and kind, with beautiful bright blue eyes. The only thing that wasn't as I had imagined was your hair color. It had lightened up some, so you looked even more like your siblings than you did as a baby (and less like your Momma.) Despite the change in hairdo, it was absolutely wonderful to see you. Somehow, though, I woke up with tears on my cheeks. You would have been 3 1/2 years old on that day. I was wrecked for the rest of it.

I trudged through the day, crying at the drop of a hat. Later in the afternoon I discovered through my fog that Neonatal Intensive Care Remembrance Day is not only a thing, but it's this month. I've been a bereaved mother for 3 years, 5 months, and 26 days. Yet somehow I had no idea about it. Maybe it's because nearly all of the bereaved parents I talk to have had a miscarriage, a stillborn birth, or knew their baby would die within hours of birth, so they didn't spend any time in the NICU. On the other hand, most of the people we know who have children who did spend time in the NICU brought their babies home to grow and thrive. Our experience is rather unique, at least among people we know.

In all honesty, I've been struggling a lot lately...even before the dream. Daddy is very busy with work and football, and I spend a lot of time alone with your siblings. I absolutely cherish that time, but let's be honest, there's not a lot of high level conversation going on between a 2-year old, a 7-month old, and an old lady like me. So, it gives me too much time alone in my head; that's always a dangerous thing. I obsess about issues and people in my life...you being the most important person of all. There's the guilt of not mothering you as much as I mother our living babies. There's the sorrow of not being able to experience new things with you. There's the mixed emotions that come with looking at your sweet photos and knowing there will never be any new ones. And there's the tears. Tears that I haven't allowed myself to cry for months and months. Those tears are flowing pretty easily these days. Although I hate to cry, I feel like it's necessary. I've been holding back on my grief since I found out I was pregnant with Joslyn. I had new hope (which is awesome), and I think it cushioned the pain of losing you for a while. Then Tyse came along and I found myself busy, busy, busy raising two little earthly crazies, which obscured the grief even more. However, going back to work in August after maternity leave opened the flood gate. You should have started preschool. I should have been posting photos of you in pigtails with your lunch box and backpack. Instead, I watched all of the other moms post first day photos of their 3-year olds and I cried. I feel like I haven't stopped crying since.

On Saturday I'll remember you, just as I do every other day...hour...minute...second of my life. I pray that you remember me too.

NICU: March 28, 2012; One of your very last cuddles with Daddy.

I love you, Bug.

Two Little Girls, Two Little Birthdays

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Tomorrow your sweet, rambunctious, precocious little sister will be two years old. TWO! I have a feeling you are two very different girls. Joslyn is all about action: singing, dancing, swimming, coloring, chattering, and socializing. I imagine you as a bit quieter, a tad more contemplative, a smidge on the cerebral side. Still, I think you would be the best of friends.  I imagine her coaxing you out of your shell, while you keep her grounded (and maybe even out of trouble.)

For Joss's 2nd birthday, we're going to Rooftop Church's summer party for some mini golf, bouncing, bubbles, music, and ice cream. Then we're coming back home for a dinner of pizza, salad, and a special cake created by one of Mommy's former students. It's a pretty basic celebration for a two year old. I notice as I plan things for her, though, there's always something niggling at me...almost holding me back. For instance, last year we bought her one small gift (a little basketball) and visited Grant's Farm. Even with that very simple day, I felt guilty. Why? Because no one gets YOU anything for YOUR birthday. We usually release some balloons and have cake (we completely dropped the ball on those this year because of the arrival of your new brother), but there aren't any packages with your name on them. There aren't many cards that come in the mail (a couple thoughtful friends still send them.) Don't misunderstand me, I don't want gifts showing up at the house...I don't want anything for me, except to know that you're loved and remembered. So, as a belated birthday present to you, I'm asking our friends and family to honor you at the Share Walk for Remembrance and Hope. That can come in the form of registering to walk with us, registering as an Angel in the Crowd (for those unable to attend, but who want to receive a t-shirt and program in the mail), or by sponsoring the walk through a monetary donation (below.)

 

My hope is that you are showered with love through their generosity, and the Share organization is blessed by being able to support other bereaved families. 

We love you, Bug. Keep watching over your sister and brother...and make sure you sing "Happy Birthday" extra loudly tomorrow so she can hear you.

Love,

My Right to Bare Arms

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I hate heat. I hate to sweat. St. Louis is a hot, humid city in the summer. Today it was in the upper 80s. Yuck. Despite the uncomfortable climate, I haven't worn a sleeveless shirt in public since my mid-twenties, when I got down to my high school weight. (I should note that in high school I thought I was HUGE...and compared to my size 2 friends, my size 12 frame was, indeed, seemingly immense.) Every summer since then, I've thrown on my t-shirt and shorts and hunkered down in the air conditioned house. When I had to be somewhere public, I didn't dare show more skin than was absolutely necessary.

Enter your sweet little sister and brother. When I asked Joss what she wanted to do today, she said, "ammals!" She wanted to go see some animals. Animals are outside. In the heat. Oy. I had two choices: play it emotionally safe and cover up my bulk with a frumpy t-shirt but be miserable when the sweat started to flow, or suck it up, bear my flabby arms, and feel more physically comfortable. Decisions, decisions.

Today I'm 50 pounds heavier than I was in high school, and I went to the park with Daddy, Joslyn, and Tysen in a tank top. I. Wore. A. Tank. Top. In. Public.

This is huge! (No pun intended.)

Of course, there was quite a bit of internal dialogue that led up to this decision. What would I be saying to Joslyn and Tysen if I didn't want to participate or I was crabby when engaging with them because I dislike my appearance? How do I set aside my insecurities and model self-confidence so I can contribute to raising a strong, healthy daughter, and a son who respects a woman for who she is instead of basing that decision on the size of her jeans? I want to enjoy your siblings to the fullest, not just watch from the sidelines as they laugh, run, and play with Daddy. I want to expose them to different experiences, not limit them to activities we can do in the 70° house away from judging eyes. So, that means I need to get outside and look at the "ammals" with them in good spirits...and a comfortable outfit.

Make no mistake. You also had a large role in my decision. I'm missing every single thing with you. Everything. I can't miss out with them, too. So I want to thank you, Bug, for my new found bravery. Because of you, I'm going to stop focusing on what I look like to me and start working on what I look like to Joss and Tyse.

Tank top? Check.

"Ooooooooh," look at the birds!

Swimsuit? Well, I'll work on that one. ;)

You make me a better person every day. I love you, sweetie!

"Notes of Hope"

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support is creating a "Notes of Hope" campaign that encourages bereaved parents, grandparents, siblings, family/friends and professionals to write a love note or poem to our children that will be published in a digital keepsake journal in October during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I'll admit that it took me a long time to sit down and write the letter. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it's because I'm consumed with Joslyn and Tysen. Maybe it's because I wanted to find the exact right words to say to you. Maybe it's because I miss you so freaking much that no letter is going to do justice to those feelings. I don't know the exact reason, but I finally sat down and wrote it tonight after tucking your brother and sister into bed.
  
Here's the final product:

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In memory of Jordyn Tyse-Dallas Sander ~ 3.14.2012 - 3.28.2012

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Three years. Wow. It seems like an eternity since we last held you in our arms. A lot has happened since you came into our world on March 14, 2012 and left so soon after. We said good bye for now to Grandpa Nockerts in July 2013, and two weeks later on August 1st we welcomed your little sister Joslyn. Your younger brother Tysen was born eighteen months after that in February 2015. Needless to say, it’s been a busy few years. Although we love your "rainbow" siblings with all of our being, we sure do miss our little Bug.

Your sister and brother are too young to understand your story, but Joslyn recognizes you in your photos and calls you "Sissy." When she sees a ladybug, she says "Bug!" and then "Sissy!" Often she stands in front of your curio cabinet, staring at your urn and trinkets. It warms our hearts that she’s getting to know her big sister; it's really remarkable how she has taken to you and your things.

Parenting a child in heaven and two on earth is an emotional balancing act. It breaks our hearts when we think about everything we're missing in your life, while we celebrate all the milestones in your siblings’ lives. We pray that what we miss with you will be made up when we finally join you in your heavenly home. Until then, we hope we do you proud while raising Joss and Tyse. Our promise to you is that they will continue to learn about you, grow to love you, and help us keep your memory alive.

Please give Grandpa lots of hugs and kisses, and know that we love and miss you more than anyone can imagine.

All our love,
Daddy (Dennis), Mommy (Kelly), Joslyn, & Tysen
xoxo

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It's been so long since I've written anything, I'm not even sure if it's coherent. Or worthy of you. But I did the best I could considering my procrastination (it's due tomorrow, by the way.) I try to honor God in all I do...and I strive to make you proud, too. I hope you like it, Bug.

All my love, 

Beware the Ides of March

Dear Jordy-Bug,

You know what's frustrating about grief? Pretty much everything. But you know what's REALLY frustrating? Not knowing when it's festering until it's too late.

Yesterday was your 3rd birthday. We didn't do much. In fact, with your new baby brother Tysen in the mix and me still recuperating from c-section surgery, we didn't plan anything special. We didn't get a cake. We didn't release balloons. We didn't light and release the lantern that has been sitting in the garage for months. We didn't even have a special dinner. We spent the day at home together as a family, tired from three weeks of sleep deprivation and a little sad. My lingering migraine didn't add to the fun. Although the day was entirely uneventful, we did sing Happy Birthday to you last night...three times (because Joslyn kept saying "Again!" whenever we finished.) But that's about it. All in all, it was a birthday fail.

By rights, today should have been better emotionally. We went to church with Grandma Nockerts, had a nice brunch, and then came home to relax and watch the Wisconsin Badger basketball game. I still couldn't shake the migraine and was a little cranky, but I thought that's all it was. After the overtime Badger B1G Championship victory, Grandma and I started to prepare dinner. That's when it all started to unravel. The child safety lock on the cabinet door wouldn't open. I cursed. I couldn't find a pan that fit the ribs just right. I grumbled at Grandma. The faucet wasn't spraying water with enough force. I snapped at Daddy. The sink didn't hold water as I was doing some of the dishes. I started to cry a little. The oven didn't seem to heat the ribs all the way through. I about threw them on the floor. There it was. My boiling point. I dished up Joslyn's and Daddy's plates, waited for Grandma to sit at the table with Joss, and I headed for the bedroom, where I grabbed your Jordyn Bear and erupted in tears.

How could I be such a terrible parent and not do something special for you yesterday? Why did I let my tiredness and attention to your siblings eclipse your special day? I knew that the balance of parenting a child in heaven and children on earth was going to be tenuous. I just didn't know that I'd let you down so soon. I'm trying to give myself some grace, but the Mommy guilt is overwhelming.

After my brief cry (I only got to melt down for about ten minutes before Tysen screamed for a feeding), I contemplated the situation and started to think a bit more clearly. The conclusion I came to was this: whether we celebrate your birthday with a month-long party surrounded by friends and family or sit on the couch just hanging out with each other, we love you more than life itself. That will never ever change. Ever.

We love and miss our big 3 year old! Here's hoping your celebration in heaven was a little more festive. Happy Birthday, Bug!

Anxious Anticipation

Dear Jordy-Bug,

On the eve of your little brother's birth, I feel like I should have something profound to say. Mostly, though, I miss you intensely and I'm anxious. Anxious that the delivery will be as traumatic as yours...or even your sister's, which put me out of commission for 14 hours after her birth. Anxious that he won't be completely healthy. Anxious that we'll leave the hospital with empty arms again.

So, I'm not going to try to be profound. I'm going to try to breathe. And relax. And pray. And enjoy the last several hours of this tiny little life inside of me. Stay close, Bug, because I have a feeling we'll be talking often between now and tomorrow morning.

I love you, sweet girl.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Phil 4:6-7

Love,