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.