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.