I think I do a pretty good job of living life in the moment. Of being grateful beyond words for what I have and the life I live. But there are times when I am hit so hard with the realization that I gave birth to two babies who were not meant for this world. I had just started feeling Daniel move when I went into labor. I was talking to him when I had a minute to myself in the hospital and apologized for what was going to happen. And he kicked me. And when he did my heart shattered and fell onto the floor. Here he was safe in my belly and working on growing strong enough to be born not knowing that he didn't have a chance. Well he did have a chance. We were given the choice to try. But the dr's and specialists saw very little success in that. In order for it to work I would have to lay in bed with my head lower than my feet and not move. Not to eat, not to shower, not to go to the bathroom. And I would have had to do that for 5 weeks at least. My chances were 20% of it working. And if that worked there was a 50/50 chance of Daniel being born deaf, blind and with cerebal palsy. In our hearts and mind that was no choice at all.
We gathered our strength and let my body do what it was trying to do and said goodbye to our little boy and little girl. Life for us would never be the same. Sometimes I look at pictures of us before the twins and feel bad for us. For the painful road we would go on to have a family.
While those moments of grief and sorrow and sheer anger at my body for not letting that pregnancy to continue aren't as constant as they once were, they are still there. And then I look at Matthew and can't imagine our lives without him. His little soul is just so full of love and happiness and makes my heart soar.
I've done good for a long time, talking about the twins with the perspective of gratefulness rather than sorrow. But grief nudged it's way into my life again last night. I was preparing a letter for our March For Babies team. And looking online for a "little brother" shirt for Matthew to wear. I came across one that I loved and for some reason my eyes scanned the page and read the description of the shirt. Something I've never really done before when looking at clothes for him. It said the following:
"Little Bro lets everyone know he's got someone looking out for him in our bright tee."
Someone looking out for him.
He's got someone looking out for him, or two someone's. How I wish they were here with him.
I've learned something in this journey of grief. Despite what people tell you time doesn't help it. Everytime it hits me it's just as strong as those first few days. And I'm grateful I can get through most of my days without falling in that hole. And I'm grateful for my husband and my family and friends who know that sometimes I just need to talk about them. To have someone tell me that it's okay to talk about them. It honors their existence. And that's all a mother wants, to know that their baby matters. Even if those babies live on only in my heart.