Today we went to see a doctor who specializes in helping little people like you come out of their mommies' tummies and into the world. We told him your story and then we asked if he would be able to help you come into the world. We heard that both he and his team are kind, and that out of all of the hospitals in our city, this one would likely be the best place to welcome you. The doctor has to tell us his final decision after he talks to some other people, but from our conversation, we think he would like to help you be born.
When the doctor was asking us questions, we couldn't really tell what he thought about our situation. We thought maybe he wondered what kind of strange people your parents must be. He must know better than we do that not very many babies with anencephaly get the chance to live and be loved as long as you. It seemed a bit strange even to us, that somehow we know your diagnosis but (some days) we are still about to talk about your birth matter-of-factly.
There was a sentence on the wall in the entryway to the hospital which explains our strange behaviour. It said in a clear font, "Wir haben einen Gott, der da hilft. Psalm 68/21". (In the English Bible it would be Psalm 68:20). Literally translated from German, that phrase means something like, "We have a God, who there helps". As in, a God who helps us right there...right in the place where we need it.
We can mostly calmly talk about you and your birth because we have a God, who there helps. He's helping you, and He's helping us, right where we need it. Even there, in the delivery wing of the hospital. Especially there.
If we're strange, we hope it's a good kind of strange.
With all our love,
Mom and Dad
PS - We're not sure if you've noticed, but this whole winter has been pretty dreary. That's typical winter weather in our part of Germany, but probably after your diagnosis it felt greyer than it actually was. Yesterday was super windy, and this evening there were strong winds and rain again. But this morning, when we had to ride our bikes to the hospital, it was sunny and calm — the warmest weather we've had since your diagnosis. God gave us a sunny day for a sad task. God helps, even in the small things.