Paul and I were talking last night about how quickly time is going by. Folks always say that the older we get, the faster time goes, but I think for those of us who lost our babies, there's an additional speed factor that's added onto the normal pace, and that's the speed at which we gain distance from our losses.
This coming week contains two dates that are hurting my heart: July 25th, the one year anniversary of my announcement at work of my (by then quite obvious) pregnancy at 12 weeks 5 days, and July 26th, the day we announced our pregnancy to the world and gave family the green light to spread the word (they'd been sitting on the news since Father's Day weekend in June).
I think the reason those dates hurt so much, aside from being yet two more little anniversaries in this horrifying year, is that part of me still feels like losing the twins just 10 days after announcing our joy to the world at large is punishment for being so naive. Aliya's first abruption, which led to our early miscarriage scare and my subsequent bedrest, also totally felt like punishment. I mean, come on, it happened about 14 hours after we announced our pregnancy to Paul's family around the campfire over Father's Day weekend. Share good news, get shit upon. Cause and effect, no? I know in my head it's just a dumb coincidence, but to my heart it certainly doesn't feel that way; it feels like a freaking punishment. Still...over a year later. (And yes, if we're ever so lucky as to conceive again, sharing our news will be a major mind fuck for both of us.)
The one year anniversary will be here before we know it - two weeks from tomorrow. I'm feeling more an more uncomfortable, and yet praying that once we pass that date, we'll feel a sense of relief. It's just so, so hard to fathom that we've been missing our babies for a year, babies who should be just over six months old right now. Babies I can't even imagine at that age in my mind's eye.
Earlier this week, Paul and I ate dinner out and then engaged in one of our favorite pasttimes: walking the docks and looking at boats at the local marina. We've been doing these walks since Paul fiirst moved in with me in Tacoma back in 2006. We hadn't done it but once or twice in the last year. I realized that this is something I'd really looked forward to doing with our babies, one of only a few things I actually could imagine doing with our babies when I was pregnant. The other two were going to the new Hands On Children's Museum, slated to open in November (we've been watching the construction as it's progressed each time we've walked the docks) and taking our children boating when they got older. Yeah, you really did read that right...those are the ONLY things I could imagine doing while I was pregnant. I couldn't picture diaper changes, or feedings, or holidays, or sending them off to school (other than they'd have been one grade behind another set of local twins I know in the same schools).
Part of me wonders whether I instinctively knew Aliya and Bennett were not ours to keep. I will always wonder.
(((HUGS)))
ReplyDeleteI could never picture Addison in her crib, but then again I couldn't really picture M in it either and now here he is. I wonder if it's just that we couldn't picture certain things because it just felt "to good to be true"?!? Who knows, but I have often wondered if there was always a part of me that *knew* too.
ReplyDeleteYou and Paul have been on my mind more than ever and will continue to be as we approach the 4th and 5th. Love to you both.
Thinking of you! We told our families the morning of the day that we found out our baby passed away. We had just recently gotten back our perfect amnio results too! I totally know how you are feeling with dates/timing/anniveraries! (((hugs)))
ReplyDelete(((Hugs))) I never saw Jasmine in the crib even after J was born and Jasmine hung around. I would hear her and see her in other places but, not the crib. Maybe it is that "to good to be true" that Addi's mom talked about.
ReplyDeleteOur minds are so convoluted, and sometimes, so cruel. How could I ever believe that I lost a baby because we splurged on a new van the weekend before she died? But that thought haunted me for a very long time. Anniversaries were hard... every year. Now, soooo many years later, only my son will notice her birth date and only I remember the anniversary of her death. And today, that is ok. For a long time, I remember waiting for that second anniversary with trepidation. But time heals... slowly. But it heals. ((hugs)) Know you are loved. (Deane)
ReplyDeleteThinking of you as these dates approach. I did feel a little relieved once we passed the one year mark, but then I started feeling a little lost in my grief too, because I didn't have any "firsts" to focus on.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking of you, especially as you hit these tiny milestones leading up to their first birthday. It's difficult...no doubt about it. Keep writing and doing all those things that have pulled you through this year...and you will be past the big milestone in no time:)
ReplyDeleteBIG HUGS being sent to you!
I know how you feel about wondering if they were ever meant to be with you. I wonder that all the time. I'm sorry so many milestones are coming up for you. Ours is a couple of months away but I already know how hard it's going to be. Hang in there and know that others are thinking of you and your babies.
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you as their first birthday approaches. The end of the first year without your babies is so hard. These next few weeks, with the flashbacks coming almost continuoulsy is torture in itself. And there is a sense of ease that comes afterwards. The grief becomes a little lighter to carry with you. But your babies will be ever closer.
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