Dear Nora,
Those noisy barks you hear every time someone comes to the door are from our dogs, Barnum and Bailey. Barnum is an extremely lazy, snuggly golden retriever and Bailey is the sweetest, spunkiest chocolate lab. You didn’t start hearing them until recently because we’d sent them to live with Grandma when they didn’t take well to life in Germany. We just got them back two weeks ago which explains the sudden addition of their barking to your daily life. Don’t worry, I know they are quite loud, but they mean well and are only trying to protect you. You are going to love having dogs. Rather, you are going to love having a dog.
Today we had to let go of our sweet Bailey girl after she got very sick very rapidly. We had taken her to the vet for a normal check up earlier in the week and within five days she was a completely different dog. Bailey wouldn’t get up to go outside or do any of her favorite things anymore and I couldn’t even convince her to eat a cheese stick. We tried everything we could to encourage her to eat and go outside while we waited on the results from tests that we knew were going to come back poorly. When the results came in, we were proven right and they were worse than bad. They had found two different masses growing and Bailey’s platelets (along with the rest of her lab values) were dangerously low. The vet told your dad that we would have to choose between surgery and comfort care, a choice we are unfortunately much too familiar with. We couldn’t allow Bailey to endure any more suffering so we made her a bucket list and set to checking off every item on it. We all took her to the beach together, got her a cheese burger and fries, and tried to get her to play fetch (it was always her favorite). We had a day scheduled to put her to sleep, ease her pain, but she didn’t make it that long. She told us in her own way that she was ready to go, she needed us to let her go. So we did.
Bailey was the best dog and I’m not sure we even deserved her. It broke my heart to see her in pain and see her struggling. Still, I didn’t want to let her go. We knew had to though, we had to help her feel better, especially since she was telling us she was ready. Saying goodbye was devastating and I now feel even less prepared for your arrival and subsequent departure from our family than ever. I foolishly thought that I was as prepared as I could be. Not that I think you’re ever prepared to lose a child; especially not one that you’ve barely begun to get to know. But still, some part of me said, “You can do this. You can do this for Nora, you’re ready.” That part may have been speaking on the surface, but the rest of me was screaming beneath that I feel completely unprepared and don’t know how I ever could be.
I’ve been watching the weeks tick away as my chipper pregnancy app tells me all the things you’re doing to prepare for your short life ahead and comparing your size to that of fruits and vegetables you will never get to taste. Now we’re down to literally marking off the days on a chart I made to help your sister cope with the idea of you being born and not being able to stay with us. As each day brings you closer, I feel less brave and more afraid. Some part of me has been putting off things on my to-do list because you can’t come until they’re all checked off. The rational part of me knows that you’ll come tomorrow if you want to, but there is something so final about checking off that last item that I must not be quite ready to face.
I know that we are doing the best thing for you, but that doesn’t make it the easiest thing. One of your doctors whom I very much respect told us that we are making the more courageous choice for you. Those words meant a lot to me when they were said and still do. I just don’t know where I’m supposed to summon up that courage from because lately I just feel scared. I am scared of how much or how little time we will have together and how to make sure we savor it. I am scared of how hard it’s going to be to say goodbye so soon after that first hello. I am scared for your sisters and your Daddy too. I’m scared I won’t be able to count your perfect fingers and toes or memorize your sweet face fast enough. At least now I don’t have to be scared that you’ll be alone. I don’t know why Bailey got so sick so quickly, but we couldn’t let her suffer and now I know she’ll be waiting for you when it’s time. So maybe I am a little more prepared after all. Even though I feel completely broken already, I’m grateful to know you’ll be together.
Love, Mommy
Originally written to Nora on February 24, 2021
Dear Nora 