Weird...

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day we lost the twins. It doesn't feel like it was a year ago already,  kind of expected my post partum depression to be twice as bad, because I was lost the twins in October, and was pregnant again by December. I am thankful that it really hasn't materialized yet. I have been weepy today, but that doesn't surprise me. I get weepy at the thought of those little boys, even a year out. It's just sort of a weird place to be. I am so, so thrilled that I have my Priscilla Grace, and and thankful for her healthy pregnancy and successful VBAC. At the same time, I think that if we had had our twins, I wouldn't even be pregnant with her. I wouldn't have her at all. Maybe not ever. I know God wasn't asking me to choose, and that I don't have to choose. I have my babies in heaven, and I have my sweet Priscilla Grace, here, in my arms.

We've never even gone to see where the boys are buried. I want to, but I kind of know that will bring on a firestorm. I just don't have the energy to deal with that. I love them, and I want to think of them as the sweet babies they are, at Christ's feet, listening to the angels sing. So, tomorrow, instead of going to the cemetary, I will take my baby over to church for a while, and buy some flowers to lay at Our Lady's feet. I'll pray that George and Gabriel are watching over us, and being our own little intercessors, and that they are happy that we have Priscilla Grace. I'll tell them how much I love them, and all our babies in heaven. We have six in heaven, what a crowd to welcome me when it is my turn. God knows perhaps, that I will need babies even in heaven.

A New Way of Thinking...

When I was pregnant, my mind constantly revolved around how we were going to move bedrooms around for our twins, how many nursing bras I would need, whether we would be painting the bedroom that would be the nursery (for girls) or just dress it up a bit for boys. Doug and I had a constant but friendly battle over names going, and I would have to say that a good 70% of my thinking revolved around babies, doctors, pregnancy, nursing, or some other baby related topic.

Actually, I have been either pregnant or nursing or both for the last nearly 16 years. All of it. No breaks in between. To suddenly have only me physically dependent on my body is weird. I feel like I am having a bit of an identity crisis. If I go to take a pain reliever, I stop and think first, and then realize, I can do whatever I need to, without consideration for how it will affect a wee one. To some this might be welcome, but it just makes me sad.

I need a new way of thinking about my life, my own body, and the way the future is stretching out in front of me. We've had so many miscarriages, and this last one is beyond anything we have gone through before. My husband is staunchly in the "no more babies" camp. I wish I were. Six months ago, I would have told you I was in that camp too, and meant it. But, six months ago, I was still nursing our baby, Yeb. Six months ago I was tired. Six months ago, I hadn't just lost my twin boys. I know that another pregnancy would not bring back my boys, but it might fill some of the ache. It might (I have long since learned that a pregnancy does not necessarily mean a living babe in arms) fill my aching arms, and it might help the tears stop. I know that this is a knee jerk reaction to loss. I have had this same reaction every time we have lost a baby. The urge to be pregnant, hold a baby, nurse a baby comes on so strong. I think I am driving my poor husband crazy. I know he understands, and I am also aware that he considers it a normal, though irrational reaction to loss. He is waiting for me to get over it, patiently. He gently reminds me of why it's not a good idea to have any more babies (aside from the fact that he turned 49 yesterday). But, BUT, BUTTTTTT. I am full of "buts". But I want a baby. But Yeb is still so small that it won't be that big a difference, but I have wanted a little girl for so long. But I am so selfish.

I know what my husband, who has been by my side for all of the last 16 years of babies, miscarriages, emergencies, sick babies, and so many other things, wants. We've been through a LOT. Not as much as some, but still... a lot. He needs to be able to be his age a little. Not a new dad every 2 years or so. But that isn't even why. He thinks I have been through too much. He thinks we've pushed our luck too far, too many times. 16 years, 12 pregnancies, 7 babies. Three babies very ill at birth. It's been hard, and scary. And incredible. It's been our life. I need a new way of thinking about life that doesn't mean babies... and that's hard for me. I have dreamt of nothing but having babies since I was about 12 years old. I just wanted babies. A couple of times I have gotten to a point where I thought I would be comfortable if we never had another baby. When I got pregnant with Luke, I was so tired, and I was a little dismayed. But, he was Doug's (and God's) idea. He wanted another baby - and so we had our Luke. Then, after Yeb - being born c-section and sick, we thought that would be a good time to be done having babies, but I never really ruled it out in my head. I had dreams of a sweet little pink bundle. Those dreams are hard to give up, even though I know that we have been abundantly blessed. But, I guess it's time. My body has become more of a death trap for a baby than a cozy place to grow. We are getting older, and we could even have grandchildren in the next few years. It's time to close this chapter and move on to the next one. I'm not ready. I still dream of that bundle of sweetness. I still want babies. I guess acceptance of this new phase of life will come in time.

If you are one of my babies reading this, I want you to know this...all the heartache, all the scares, all the hospitals and doctors and losses...every second I got to hold you, nurse you, love you. Each and every single second of that was worth all of this.

A Bit of Normal

When it first happened, everyone wanted to bring food, and tried to surround us with love. I just couldn't handle that. I didn't want anyone to act like anything was really out of place, or really wrong. Our moms brought food, and my sister-in-law (my mother in law fed my kids while we were in the hospital, thank goodness, and my mom brought so much food, it lasted all weekend!). Some sweet friends from far away sent a gift card to a favorite local restaurant (I still can't figure out how she did that so fast), which we used for a bit of  "fun" for the kids. But, when my sisters and friends asked when they could send a meal, I asked them not to. I just hated the feeling that we needed help, or taken care of, or that something so bad had happened that people felt it necessary to bring food. My kids cried for days, and my crying just made it worse. I needed to at least get the kids to a place where they could feel like everything was going to be okay, even though for me and their dad, and for them too, it was going to be a long time to get back to normal. I think my sisters and friends understood my need for normal, or were just willing to give me whatever I wanted. Either way, it helped me feel more normal, to have to fix dinner, or hear my sweet husband moving around in the kitchen creating one of his masterpieces. He cooked so much that week, and took such good care of all of us. I think he needed to be able to cook, do the things he would normally do. When something happens that is so painful, and so not what you were expecting, then you need the routine and schedule, and daily chores of life to keep you sane. At least, we did.

The house is starting to feel more normal, though my bedroom, it's hard to be in there. It's where I would lay at night, with my hands low on my belly, to feel their tiny nudges and pokes. Just a few days before they died, my husband and I lay in that bed for the longest time, him trying to feel them moving, and me giggling and saying "Did you feel that? Oh wait, there is one over here! Did you feel that?" Finally, after some chasing around, and me holding my breath, and him being very still and waiting, he was able to feel the tiny nudges and the roaming around of our wee babies. It was a special moment, one we've shared many times, but always special because of the newness of each little being. This time there were two of them, and we were going to soon know who they were; Priscilla Grace and Suzanna Joy, or George Ellis and Gabriel Akers (It makes me so happy to see their names all typed out, I feel like it makes them more real to people, it certainly makes them more real to me. And of course they are real, even if  we were the only people, outside the doctor and nurse and a sweet nun, who ever saw them. They are real, we have pictures, and we held them. I have a tiny stack of their 'things' in my room.). I was so, so hoping for little girls, but my, oh my, I would give just about anything to have my sweet baby boys here, growing and getting ready for the world. I am starting to accept what a dear friend said to me the other day, this was a different kind of blessing, but a blessing all the same. It just doesn't feel like one yet.

In this house, with noisy boys and bossy girls creating chaos all day long, it has gotten easier to keep the tears at bay, but they are still hitting me at unexpected times. I find something I had bookmarked to buy for the babies, or I smell a smell that doesn't bother anyone else, and think "oh, that pregnant smell aversion!" only to remember that I am not pregnant, though I seem to be left with a few hormones and other symptoms that have not yet gotten the message. Still, I am treasuring the last bits of this and other minor discomforts, as they are the last physical signs that my boys were here.

I go back to work tomorrow, and I pray and pray that no one says anything to me. They all know what happened, but only my family and a handful of people know me very well. I hate crying in front of people, but if anyone says anything to me, I know the tears will start. I just don't like sympathy. I can't handle it, don't know what to do with it. I haven't been back to church yet, either. Though I know my sisters and friends have told most people, and asked them not to say anything to me.  I hope this doesn't sound whiny, but if it does, so be it. I don't know how to handle it, otherwise. I just need to feel normal, if that makes any sense. I can keep the tears under control, if people just act like it didn't happen. But, at the same time it is this huge thing that is in the front of my heart every minute. One of the bloggers I read explained it in one of her posts. She said she couldn't decide if she wanted people to ask, or not to ask, or ignore her, or just pretend everything was fine. I feel just that way. Ask, or don't, or ignore me. I don't know what I want. I just want some normal. But I have a feeling that "normal" is a long, long way away from here.

My Babies

 I have been waiting. Waiting for understanding, a little lifting of the grieving, or some sign from God that there is a reason and a purpose behind something so hard and painful. I have been waiting for a consolation, or some other little wink or nod from God. I need one, I am a weak and sorry human whose faith has taken a beating. He knows my heart, and I have found some solace in the words of others today.

Quite by accident I have found a post by a Catholic mother, to her Babies in Heaven. It had such insight, and reminded me of my own beliefs. It brought me back, a little to what I have known and held in my heart all these years.

I am very blessed, I have 8 living children, and I am so thankful for each of them. In our 16 years of marriage, I have also miscarried 6 children. Last week, we went in for the "big" ultrasound of our identical twins, only to find out they had died. I was induced and delivered my sweet baby boys the next day. I am so heartbroken, and having a hard time dealing with this loss. I am so mad. I prayed for these little babies everyday. I had a feeling something wasn't going to be right, but it all seemed to be going so well. But now they are gone. We named them George and Gabriel. With my first loss, an ectopic pregnancy, I had a dream, a consolation, of my baby. He told me his name was Matthew, and that he would be our special intercessor, that he would watch over our family, and pray for us.I never saw him, but I love him so.

We lost two more babies before I knew I was pregnant, and when I carried Caleb, we lost his twin. I believe that one of their names is Jordan, after the Jordan river where Christ was baptized. I have asked for the other names to be told to me, or come to me, but I am waiting.  I pray, hope and believe that my babies are together, listening to the angels sing, and waiting for us. We have told our children that they are there, in heaven, waiting and praying for us. And I think God knows us so well, that he knows we would do anything to get to our children, even if it is hard, even if it takes a lifetime. Even when we are human and aren't smart enough to do whatever it takes to get to Him.  I want them so very much, and I am truly struggling now, but I am starting to remember what I have known all along. Our Lord is in charge, He creates for His kingdom. His ways are not the ways of man. My babies are safely in His care. I await the day I will see them again - they are indeed a most precious incentive. As is the love that only the Lord can shine down upon me.

A Lesson I Needed Today

 Have you ever shaken your fist at God? I have been doing so much of that lately. Another Catholic Mama put it into a bit of perspective for me...

 http://practicingmammal.blogspot.com/2011/10/shaking-my-fist.html?showComment=1319482324251#c5072856313067839952

Prayer for Miscarriage by Mother Angelica

My Lord, the baby is dead!

 Why, my Lord—dare I ask why? It will not hear the whisper of the wind or see the beauty of its parents’ face—it will not see the beauty of Your creation or the flame of a sunrise. Why, my Lord?

 “Why, My child—do you ask ‘why’? Well, I will tell you why.

 You see, the child lives. Instead of the wind he hears the sound of angels singing before My throne. Instead of the beauty that passes he sees everlasting Beauty—he sees My face. He was created and lived a short time so the image of his parents imprinted on his face may stand before Me as their personal intercessor. He knows secrets of heaven unknown to men on earth. He laughs with a special joy that only the innocent possess. My ways are not the ways of man. I create for My Kingdom and each creature fills a place in that Kingdom that could not be filled by another. He was created for My joy and his parents’ merits. He has never seen pain or sin. He has never felt hunger or pain. I breathed a soul into a seed, made it grow and called it forth.”

 I am humbled before you, my Lord, for questioning Your wisdom, goodness, and love. I speak as a fool—forgive me. I acknowledge Your sovereign rights over life and death. I thank You for the life that began for so short a time to enjoy so long an Eternity.                                                                                              --  Mother M. Angelica