You Were Supposed to Be a Football

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Last year at this time, just after we found out you were a girl, I started thinking about what costume you'd wear for your first Halloween (one of approximately 10 million plans I had for you.) I guessed you'd be around 8 months old when the holiday rolled around in 2012 because, for some reason, Daddy and I both thought you'd be a Leap Day baby and come a little earlier than your March 10th due date. So, I started scouring the internet for the perfect 9-month costume for Trunk or Treat at church. It didn't take me long to find the ideal match. What could be more perfect for a big, hulking football coach than to carry around his little Jordyn "TD" under his arm, as everyone giggled at our little baby girl "football?" Yes, you were supposed to be a football. Not a fairy princess, not a ballerina, not a cute little butterfly or bumble bee. A football. Because that's how Daddy and I roll. We thought you'd have plenty of time to wear what you wanted as you got older. And, although I guessed you'd be like Mommy and avoid dresses at all costs, I also didn't think you'd go for the football idea later. So, we were intent on doing it our way for at least a year or two. Hence the big ol' bows you donned in the NICU. (A friend of mine told me that you are probably still cursing me for making you wear them, by the way. Lol.)

You never got to be a football. Or a princess. Or a ballerina. Or anything else. Grandma Nockerts lovingly ordered a ladybug costume for you, but because your life was cut short 7 months before Halloween ever arrived, your Jordyn Bear will wear it. Silly to some people, I suppose. But it's all we have now.

We didn't go to Trunk or Treat last Saturday. We didn't even go to the annual meeting at church after Trunk or Treat, because I didn't want to be surrounded by cute little babies all dressed up in adorable costumes. Some of our friends graciously dressed their little ones in ladybug costumes in your honor, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't go see them. So, Daddy and I grabbed a pizza and then came home to watch shows we had recorded on the DVR. Not at all what either of us pictured last October.

Now here I sit on the eve of what should be your first Halloween, wiping away tears as I think about how there's no little football crawling around our house. No "oohs and aahs" from neighbors, friends, or family about how cute you are in your costume. No stash from which to extract our Mommy and Daddy "candy tax" (I guess that's better for our waistlines anyway.) No Halloween at all. Tomorrow night, we'll be at Daddy's playoff football game. I'm hoping and praying there won't be babies in costumes, but I doubt I'd get that lucky. So, I'll deal with it the best I can. Maybe I'll picture you in heaven trick-or-treating. My, what a grand-scale Trunk or Treat that must be! Since you get to choose your own costume, what will you be? Whatever you choose, you'll be the cutest one ever. I just know it. I just wish Daddy and I could see it.

We miss you, little Bug. More than anything, we love you.

Love,

I Am Not Okay

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Every day people ask "How are you?" I usually say, "I'm OK, how are you?" Every day I lie to people. The truth is...I cry every day; Jordyn Bear is matted with tears. I don't sleep; or I sleep too much. Food is tasteless. My motivation is gone. Our house isn't clean and I don't care. I cook only so Daddy doesn't starve. I don't want to go to work. I can barely get out of bed most mornings. I'm exhausted emotionally, mentally, and physically. I don't have the energy to cope with others, much less serve them or even love them as they deserve to be loved. I'm uncomfortable trying to be social with friends or family. Seeing baby girls, especially those with dark hair or those wearing bows, sends me into a tizzy. Encountering pregnant women, or learning someone is pregnant, makes me irrationally grumpy. Church is joyless. Everything is joyless. I see a counselor every other week and attend a support group with Daddy once a month; I'm still ridiculously sad and angry. I'm a 40 year old woman who sleeps with a 7 lb, 6 oz teddy bear, writes a blog to you, and sends balloons up to heaven because I can't hold you or tell you I love you in person. I am not okay.

I want to see you grow up. I want to kiss you, hug you, and tickle you. I want to see you smile. I want to hear you giggle. I want to take a million more photos of you. I want to watch you dance with Daddy and dress up like a cheerleader while he watches football. We can't do any of those things. And it's killing me.

This morning, I was wide awake at 2:30am thinking of you. By 5am, I couldn't fight back the tears any longer. Daddy held me and told me he loves me. He asked if I was going to be OK today. I told him I was going to "be." That was enough for him because he knows...I am not okay.

I love you, sweet girl. I miss you like crazy. I want to be okay again, but I don't know how. Realistically, I don't think that will happen until I see you again. Until then, smile at the goodness all around you in heaven, giggle until it hurts, practice your dancing so you're ready when Daddy gets there, and please grow up slowly. We don't want to miss everything.

Love,

"You're in my prayers"

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Hi baby girl. Today, I feel compelled to tell you about Mommy and Daddy's friends, because they are awesome. From the day you were born, they have been loving us and you, supporting us in our grief, and cheering us on. I'll admit, those first several months I didn't want to be cheered on. Some days, still, I don't want to be cheered on. But they keep trying.

Starting when we were in the hospital, and continuing well into April, several people cleaned our house or fed us. We had carry out, homemade dishes, restaurant gift cards, and many invitations to dine with friends. Someone made cookies for the wonderful nurses who took such good care of you in the NICU. Another even showed up unannounced on our doorstep after we returned home...with ice cream! We are still using the gift cards and feel blessed every time we do.

During that first month, gifts came from near and far. We received ladybug decorations and yard ornaments, personalized jewelry, vases, plaques, flowers, wind chimes, cash gifts, an engraved glass clock, prayer shawls, mother/father/baby figurines, a personalized "day Jordyn was born" poster, photo albums, and framed photos. Artistic friends created a hand-sculpted teddy bear angel with your name spelled out in blocks, a ladybug key chain, and a pencil drawing of your gorgeous face. Many others selflessly donated to the Mercy NICU, resulting in your name being etched on the Tribute Wall there. One thoughtful friend brought over a comfy rocker-glider so that I can sit in your nursery and read, remember you, or just cry. A couple friends paid to have all of Daddy's coaching shirts and some of my shoulder bags embroidered with a green (organ donor) ribbon and ladybug. A friend from church graciously did our taxes while we were too distraught to even think about the task. A former student of mine dedicated a musical arrangement to you. Another former student had a ladybug and "Mark 10:14" added to her tattoo in your honor. Someone even told the Green Bay Packers about you and they sent us a lovely condolence letter. Such thoughtful gifts continue to trickle in when we least expect them.

May and June were emotionally difficult because of Mother's Day and Father's Day, but we received special cards from various people, along with flowers and gift cards from Rooftop and other friends, and birthstone jewelry, personalized framed photos, and ladybug-inspired gifts from our family. Our friends also came through to help us win the "Mommy and Me" Mother's Day photo contest. Your beautiful photo received over 1,700 votes! In addition, they donated over $450 to Molly Bears and $50 to Lil Angel Hankies in order for us to get our "Jordyn Bear" and personalized Jordyn hanky a year early.

For several months now, many people have been praying for Daddy and me at 3:14pm. Because of this, we know that we (and you) are thought of at least once a day. It means the world to us to know that you are alive in other people's hearts and that our friends care enough about us to pray for healing for our broken hearts.

A couple weeks ago, a friend at church said, "You look really good. I know you're struggling on the inside, but you really look good." I feel like I look awful. My hair is graying (and still falling out), my eyes are bloodshot (the left one still hasn't healed completely from the corneal abrasion at the end of June), my under eye area is dark and swollen, although I lost a nice chunk of weight from March to May, I'm still well over where I should be, and I continue to limp when I get up after sitting because my hips are out of whack from carrying your sweet little self around. Still, her remark struck me. Whether she meant it or not, it was a gift that I needed to hear because I feel like I aged 10 years in the last 6 months.

Last week, as I was entering statistics into the computer at Daddy's football game, I hit a rough spot. An infant girl, just a bit younger than you would be, was sitting 15 feet in front of the press box...she was crying...and wearing a lady bug hat. I lost it in the middle of the second quarter and didn't regain my composure until the end of halftime. A friend and colleague of Daddy's noticed and came into the press box, where she hugged me for a long, long time. When Monday rolled around, another friend emailed to check on me. She said that she thought the little girl was a way for you to get my attention and make sure I was thinking of you. Wow. It did NOT occur to me to think of it like that. All I could think at the time was, "Why do they get to keep their baby girl and we didn't get to keep ours?" She helped me alter my perspective with just a few kind, caring words. We love her for that.

As of yesterday, 30 friends and family members have signed up to walk in your honor at the Share Walk for Remembrance and Hope. Sixteen more sent donations. Together, they have raised $1,473.00 for Share! I've made sure to thank them all publicly on Facebook, because this is a very big deal to Daddy and me. [Update: as of 10/30/12, 69 registered walkers, 19 donors, $2,589.00 raised!]

This morning when I went to the mailbox, I was greeted with a sweet gift from a friend at work. She told me back in July that she wanted to pray for me every day at 3:14, but just kept missing the window. Instead, she decided to do a daily bible reading from chapter 3, verse 14 of every book of the bible (in those books that contain fewer chapters or verses, she chose the last verse.) Every day, she read 3:14, wrote it down, and then said/wrote a prayer for Daddy and me. When she made it through Revelation, she thought it would be a blessing to us if she gave us the journal. Oh, what a blessing, indeed! I read the journal cover to cover today. She interspersed some of the Facebook, blog, and personal conversations we had into the prayers, so I can actually remember what (exactly) she prayed about that day. Not only is this a totally cool idea, it is an incredibly meaningful one. So many people have ended their conversations with me by saying, "You're in my prayers," but I always wonder if they are really going to pray for me? With her, I don't need to wonder. Her prayers are in the journal and they're ours to keep forever and ever.

On a daily basis, our friends come through for us. They get me out of the house when I can't stand to be around myself any more. They check on me several times per week. A few never let a church service go by without asking how our week has been. We get emails when friends reflect on Scripture and feel compelled to pray for us. We have so many Facebook supporters, I can't even name them all here. Several people continue to send us pictures of ladybugs that have visited them and made them think of you. We still get cards out of the blue from people reminding us that we are loved and thought of...I could go on and on about how wonderful everyone has been. I know I've left out so many generous gestures, and I apologize for that. I hope people don't hold any omissions against me, because in my grief fog, my brain doesn't function quite like it used to. Now that I think about it, I know they will be gracious, because everyone has been so patient and forgiving regarding my inability to focus, my crying spells, and my general lack of "me"-ness. We are blessed beyond measure to call them our friends. I wish you could have met more of them, little Bug. You would have liked them. And I know they would absolutely adore you.

I love you, sweetheart!

Love,

Grandparents' Day

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Well, sweet girl, it's been a while since I wrote...I apologize for that. It isn't because I'm not thinking about you every minute of every day, because believe me, I am. I'm just struggling with that same nagging feeling that I don't have much worth saying. As I type this, though, I realize that even if you didn't have anything interesting to tell me, I'd still want to hear everything you have to say. So, I should do you that same service. My only issue, then, is that there are still things on my mind that I'm not ready to tell the world. Those things we'll keep between us in our daily "chats," okay? (I wonder how crazy that last statement made me sound? Let's be real, though. Whether or not you can hear me talk to you, I talk to you. How could I not? I talk to your photos, your Jordy-Bug stuffed animal, your Jordyn Bear from Molly Bears, your Lady Bug locket, your memorabilia in your curio cabinet, the lady bug embellishments people have made for us...and I talk to the air, praying you'll hear me when I tell you how much I love you and miss you.)

Yesterday was Grandparents' Day. I sent Grandma & Grandpa Nockerts and Grandma & Grandpa Sander each a heart collage containing several of your photos. It's the background screen I have on my iPad and I thought they'd like to have a copy. When Grandma Nockerts messaged me to thank me, I cried. I replied to her message with "You're welcome. I'm just sorry she won't ever be able to give you anything herself." And I cried some more. It hit me hard that Daddy and I aren't the only ones who are going to miss out on watching you grow up. There are others who truly love and miss you, and are suffering too. They aren't going to get mushy, wet kisses and big, loving hugs when they come through the door of our home for a visit. On their birthdays, they don't get the pleasure of opening homemade cards made by your sweet little hands. When Christmas rolls around, they will miss out on the joy of watching your face light up when you open your presents. There will be no weekend trips out to their homes to get your fair share of spoiling and special bonding time. They don't get to cheer you on at your first softball game or dance recital. They will have no opportunity to watch you receive your little diploma at your Kindergarten graduation. They won't receive an invitation to Grandparents' Day at your school. No special bouquet of dandelions picked by you especially for them. No birthday parties with a smiling, happy Jordyn to sing to. No taking an embarrassing amount of pictures at your prom...or your wedding. No beaming with pride at your high school graduation ceremony. No college send-off party...

I pray that they get to do all of these things with you when they get to heaven. I pray we ALL get to do these things with you some day. Note: If you are one of the people who love and miss her, please "get right" with God...you don't automatically go to heaven because you're a "good person." You have to have faith and commit to following the teachings of Jesus. Jordyn wants to meet you, thank you, and hug you for being such amazing family and friends to her Mommy and Daddy.

It's time to dry my tears, get off my soap box, and go make some dinner for your Daddy. He'll be home in an hour or so from football practice and he'll be exhausted and hungry. A shower, a hot meal, and then it's off to bed to do it all over again tomorrow. Please watch over your Daddy, honey. He needs you. And so do I.

I love you, Bug.

Love,

What I've Lost...and Gained

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Recently, a friend posted on Facebook about a substantial weight loss of which she is very proud (and she should be), and it immediately triggered memories of the times my chunky self has worked to lose weight. It didn't take long before I thought of how fast I lost "the baby weight" (plus 20 more pounds) after you died. This time, though, I didn't do it on purpose and it wasn't done in a healthy manner. Putting food in my mouth for the first three months after you left made me physically ill. So, those 70 pounds melted off by May. Yes, you did the math correctly (we'll say you got your number sense from Daddy, even though Mommy is no math slouch either.) I gained fifty pounds with you! It had a lot to do with the fact that my hips, back, and sciatic areas were so bad that I didn't get off the couch for half of the pregnancy. The Double Stuff Oreos probably didn't help either.

Of course, this conversation in my head then triggered another one...what else have I lost since you went to be with Jesus? First and foremost, I've lost you. I've lost the dreams I had for you. I've lost my future with you. I've lost my membership to the "mom club" where special people go on play dates and talk about raising their children to love God and be good people. But besides the obvious, I've also lost other things. I've lost my capacity to start or finish a sentence without tears being right behind every word. I've lost my joy in seeing other moms with babies or pregnant women. I've lost my ability to smile and mean it. I've lost my patience when dealing with people who complain about petty problems. I've lost the ability to have a stream of conscious thought that doesn't revolve back to you. I've lost the filter that keeps me from saying things I probably shouldn't share with others. I've lost my motivation to work or clean the house. I've lost a bunch of hair. I've lost my desire to socialize. I've lost my false sense of security. And I've lost my confidence that Daddy and I were meant to have a baby to raise.

I've lost a lot. But I also realize that I've gained much from you (and I'm not just referring to the crazy amount of weight I put on during our 9 months of growing together.) I've gained a greater appreciation for the miracle of birth/life. I've gained a more intense concern for the safety and health of Daddy, and of others who I love. I've gained a deeper desire to keep and nurture my faith in God, in order to gain His great inheritance in heaven and to see you again someday. I've gained an acute need to pray more, to get closer to the One who cares for you and holds you on His lap. I've gained a keen awareness that Daddy and I have some pretty amazing friends and a loving, supportive family. I've gained the insight that will keep me from taking those same people for granted. I've gained perspective on what really matters in this world. And I've gained the knowledge that Daddy and I made a gorgeous, healthy baby girl who we will love forever.

Today, as we struggle with our emotions on your 5-Month Angelversary in heaven, I want you to know that losing you was and is excruciating, but the lessons we've gained from you are priceless. Thank you, honey. We love you more every day.

Love,

Just Shut Up!

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Today I thought about this blog and how I hadn't posted in a while...and felt guilty. My internal dialogue went something like this: "But I don't have anything to say. Yet I have a million things to say. So, why haven't I written?" Does it mean I don't want to talk to you or about you? No. Unequivocally no. I want nothing more. But I'm starting to sense that those around me are no longer okay with me talking about you. I don't know if it's because I'm with different people now that I've gone back to work and they're uncomfortable with the topic and because I cry when I speak, or because nearly five months have passed and people have hit their limit on patience. Sometimes when I start to talk, I can almost hear the other person thinking, "Just shut up about your daughter!" But I will never shut up about you. I can't. I love you, I miss you, and I want to honor your memory. If nothing else, I will always talk to Daddy about you. He never tires of his sweet little girl.

On a less frustrating note, Daddy and I feel so blessed by the outpouring of love from our friends and family during the Day of Hope yesterday. We received over 100 photos of candles that were lit in remembrance of you and for all the other dear children who have lost their lives far too soon. I wonder if you saw all the flickering flames from heaven. What a sight that must have been. In case you missed some of them, I've included a few here. I'm also in the process of creating collages of all of the candles and will post them on Facebook for everyone to see soon. I hope the gesture made you smile, sweetheart. I bet you have a beautiful smile. I can't wait to see it for myself.

I love you, baby girl.

Love,

Back to School

Dear Jordy-Bug,

It's that time of year again. Daddy started football two-a-days on Monday of this week. He got me up at 6am to help him tie his shoes and wrap his cast. The same happened on Tuesday morning. On Wednesday, as I groggily finished tying a somewhat lopsided knot in his left shoe, he looked at me with his kind eyes and said, "You only have to do this for three more weeks." My original reaction was, "I guess that's not so long." But then it hit me, I would tie Daddy's shoes and wrap his arm and do just about anything else for him for the rest of my life if it meant I got to see him, talk to him, kiss him, and hold him every day. Thank you, sweet girl, for teaching me to cherish every minute I have with the ones I love...even at 6am.

Yesterday was my first official day back for the 2012-2013 school year. You should have been on your way to your first experience at daycare. I should have been crying because it was our first day apart. Instead, I cried all day because we are always physically apart. Some of my colleagues have tried to reach out to me, but I'm inconsolable and forever fighting back tears. I don't want to be at work. I want to be with you. I love and miss you more than anyone can imagine.

Love,

The Empty Spot on the Couch

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Daddy and I are still recuperating from our first week back in the "real world" after our visit to Faith's Lodge. It was a doozy. Mommy had two full days of meetings at work, and kept thinking, "How am I going to be productive for an entire school year when just sitting in these meetings is exhausting me emotionally?" I was constantly fighting back tears. I can't imagine how I'm going to function when there are halls and classrooms full of students and teachers. I can't imagine what I'm going to say when someone asks me how my baby is doing. You are in heaven and happier than anyone can understand, so the answer should be "she's perfect!" But answering that question with a giant hole in my heart is unbearable (I'm crying just thinking about it.) Speaking of crying, I ended up at the eye doctor again on Tuesday afternoon because my crying has chapped my eye. Yes, I said chapped. The tears are still washing away the natural, protective coating on my eye and causing severe dryness and making it impossible to wear my contacts without pain.

As for Daddy, he had appointments to figure out what's really wrong with his shoulder/elbow/wrist. He is very claustrophobic, so he has been putting off the MRI his doctor ordered. His persistent research for alternatives and subsequent hounding of the medical staff paid off. The nurse scheduled a shoulder ultrasound for Wednesday morning. When he got there, he asked the doctor again about the acute pain in his elbow (the doc previously wasn't concerned with the elbow, just the shoulder and wrist.) He reviewed the x-ray and, lo and behold, he missed the fracture in Daddy's elbow. So, poor Daddy has been walking around for over a month with a broken arm and not sleeping at night worrying about the MRI. He had to see a different doctor on Thursday for his wrist, who cast his entire arm. He didn't handle that well at all (as I told you, he's claustrophobic and can't stand to be restricted in his movement.) So, after practically begging them, they sliced the cast in half to make it a "splint." He is still uncomfortable, but at least he can take it off when it gets to be too much. And at least he got out of the MRI. By the end of the day on Thursday, we were both at the end of our emotional ropes.

Even before you died, I was worried how Daddy would handle it when it was Milo's time to leave us. They have been buddies for almost 14 years! It was determined while we were at the lodge that the little guy had an inoperable, cancerous tumor in his gall bladder and liver. The day that we both dreaded came on Friday. We knew it was time to let him rest in peace because he had gotten very weak, unsteady, wasn't consistently keeping his tube-fed meals down, and was having occasional seizures. A little after 4pm, we took Milo around to each of the other kitties to say good bye. By the time we got out to the car, he was uncomfortable and scared. So in an effort to escape, he chomped down on my left thumb. I've never really been bitten by an animal before (playful bites by the kitties don't count), so I had no idea how much a puncture wound hurts. Holy cow! I knew he didn't mean it and I knew we didn't have much more time with him, so I tried to focus on making him comfortable and not on my thumb. At 4:30pm, we arrived at the animal hospital and the veterinary assistant led us to a room we had never seen before. It was painted green, with a table in the center covered by a soft towel, had homey decorations and comfy places to sit, and contained books about animals in heaven. I immediately turned to Daddy, who had already started to cry, and said to him through my own tears, "How odd and cruel is it that twice in less than five months, we've been led into a special room to watch our baby die?" After we took some time alone with Milo, the veterinarian came in and gave our little man a shot that sent him to you. Watching Daddy cuddle his soft, limp body took me right back to the NICU on your last day here on earth. I couldn't get the image of you in Daddy's arms out of my head. We cried together and left the animal hospital with empty arms. Just as we left the hospital in March. When we got home, the first things I saw were the indented, empty spot on the couch where Milo used to nap, and your Jordyn Bear, peering at me from the love seat. We want you both back. But since that's not possible, we want you two to be happy together. You're an amazing little girl and he's a special kitty. I hope you have lots of good cuddles with him, honey.

We love and miss you so much!

Love,

Faith's Lodge

Dear Jordy-Bug,

Well, we're back from our trip to Faith's Lodge. We met several special mommies and daddies to some wonderful little ones up in heaven with you. We shared our stories and struggles, made crafts to honor all of you, ate some meals, played yard games (a little friendly competition made Daddy happy...and winning the "bags" tournament made him even happier), participated in a group therapy session, hugged, laughed, and cried with each other. The night before we left, we stayed up until 2:30am talking, laughing, and crying with Corina and Andy (Elijah's mommy and daddy.) It was emotionally difficult to leave. Knowing we had to say good bye to our new friends in a place where we felt comfortable for the first time in months, even Daddy had tears on Sunday morning. I felt a calming peace while we were there; except for that final morning, I was virtually tear-free for the first time since you died.

Today I went in to school for an all-day meeting. I found my tears again. En masse. The reality of going to work and seeing the world go on as usual hit me like a brick and helped me recognize how very special our experience at Faith's Lodge really was. Being around other parents who understand what we are thinking, feeling, and doing about your death is a huge comfort. Knowing we could talk about you at any time or burst into tears without anyone else blinking an eye, recoiling, or uncomfortably uttering a platitude, was incredibly freeing. Don't get me wrong, our friends and colleagues here (in the "real" world) have been wonderful and we love them for everything they are doing for us, physically and emotionally...but they just can't possibly understand us the way other bereaved parents of infants can.

Please do Mommy a favor and find Elijah, Cooper, Eliana, Landon, Devon, and Mac and give them big hugs from us and from their mommies and daddies. They miss their angels as much as we miss you, sweetheart. We love you.

Love,

Tears

Dear Jordy-Bug,

I had a few tears today, but I didn't break down completely. This is the first day since you died that I can say that. It doesn't mean that I don't love you. In fact, my love for you grows more and more every day. Perhaps it means I'm getting stronger and starting to heal a little. I hope that makes you smile.

I love you, sweet girl.

Love,