Mateo is Jackson's Brother, Too

Since before Owen was born, or even given a name, or even conceived, he was “Jackson’s brother.” And ever since he was born, we made sure he knew about his older brother by keeping him alive in photos, memories, and conversations – even if Owen couldn’t see him. We made an effort to carefully tend to this brotherhood relationship, hoping it would stick, while also being careful not to force it. We have done our best to follow Owen’s lead and allow their relationship to unfold at Owen’s pace.

It dawned on me several weeks after Mateo was born that we gave not given much thought to his relationship with Jackson at all. Maybe because we’ve been so consumed with other demands – like parenting a three-year-old, surviving the pandemic – but maybe also because it feels less salient this time around. In our minds, Mateo is “Owen’s brother”.

This was surprising for me to realize, and a little bit difficult to admit. I immediately judged myself for not dedicating the same careful attention to Jackson and Mateo’s brotherhood. And, I reminded myself that it makes perfect sense that I have made a greater effort to tend to Owen and Mateo’s brotherhood. I recalled an early conversation with Bryan, shortly after Jackson’s death, in which we told ourselves that someday we would simply have to spend more time thinking about and paying attention to our future living children—and that this was ok, healthy, and necessary. It wasn’t a sign of forgetting, it was a sign of adapting.

An interesting corollary of all of this has been the realization that I am far less afraid of Mateo dying in his sleep than I was of Owen. With Owen, we used an Owlet monitor for every single sleep episode – every night and every nap. The Owlet monitor, which continuously measured his heart rate and blood oxygen, provided “proof of life” anytime we felt anxious about a late morning wakeup or a nap-gone-longer-than-expected. We sent it to daycare and trained the teachers to use it. We ordered a backup replacement sensor for whenever the device failed. And we very reluctantly stopped using it when Owen outgrew it (around 15 months old), and purchased a Miku (another vitals monitor) in its place. The Owlet went into storage, ready for the next baby someday.

A couple years later it was time to take the Owlet back out of storage. I charged it up in our bedroom, ready for use next to Mateo’s bassinet. But our first night home I decided not to use it. A day passed. A week passed. A month passed. Then I texted my SUDC mama friend, who also happens to be a psychologist. I texted her: “Riddle me this, I haven’t used the Owlet monitor with Mateo yet. It’s out of the box, charged up, sitting on my bookshelf – what do you make of that?” She normalized this for me, as she had a similar experience with her second-child-after SUDC. After talking to her I realized there was just a part of me that wants to leave the fear of SUDC behind. Using the Owlet multiple times per day was just a multiple-times-per-day reminder of what I’m afraid of and don’t want to be afraid of anymore.

All of this to say, I am leaning into acceptance and dialectics with Mateo’s relationship to Jackson. I’m leaning into acceptance that it understandably feels different than Owen’s relationship to Jackson – and leaning into the dialectic that although I long for Mateo to be in relationship with Jackson, it’s also been helpful for me to not always readily associate him with SUDC. I also remain open to the ways in which Mateo’s relationship with Jackson will change and evolve over time, eventually into whatever Mateo wants it to be. And I hope he can count on big brother Owen to help him navigate this, too.