Monday, June 15, 2015

Feeling all the feelings

Asher recently moved up to the toddler room at daycare. He's following their routines, washing his hands, closing and opening doors, putting toys away. Sharing. Today, while signing Paul and myself up to chaperone some of the class's summer field trips, the date of one I was considering popped out for the first time, even though I've looked at it numerous times in the last week.

August 5th. The day my babies died.

My breath caught in my throat. After a quick deliberation, I signed up to chaperone that day. I suppose it's better to spend a few hours at a park and getting ice cream with my rainbow boy, who turns two in just six days, than trying not to cry while sitting among my co-workers at my desk, very few of whom know my story.

It's clear that so many people around me have forgotten about our babies. Life has moved on. We have a handsome handful of a towhead toddler running us ragged. We must be all fixed, like none of it ever happened.

It's true that I have joy in my life today. I laugh every day at and with my funny boy. He's the life of every party, and has a harem of little girlfriends at daycare. He's a sunshine, no doubt, an extrovert and people person, making friends right and left with people of all ages. As much happiness as he brings me, his siblings are missing. There are holes in our family that can't be filled by anyone, not even him.

This past weekend we joined other bereaved parents at the TEARS Foundation's Rock & Walk event in honor of our lost babies. In talking with my friend at and after the event, several feelings came up: the anxiety leading up to the event, the absolute annoyance during the event (like why in fuck do we need a 45 minute opening ceremony when we're really all there just to remember and honor our dead babies?), and the emotional exhaustion after. As I walked slowly around the track with my mom ahead of Paul and Asher, I said, "I still cannot believe this is my life." The life of dead babies. Of years of heartbreak and infertility. The exclusion. The isolation. The trying to navigate joy with pain, the devastating guilt I feel when Asher is pummeling my very last nerve, wondering when, if ever, these contradictory feelings will fade.

We're almost to the four year mark. I can look back in my mind's eye to the events that happened on the 4th and 5th of August so many years ago as if I'm watching someone else's movie, detached. But the lingering effects of our journey to build a family and claw my way through the reality of life after babyloss are still very much real and alive.

It hurts my heart.


  1. It hurts my heart too. Always. xoxo

  2. It never gets easier. My boys are on my mind every single day. I can hardly believe this will be my life forever...always missing two pieces of my heart.

  3. I loved seeing your pictures of Bennett and Aliya's butterflies from this past weekend and that joyous almost 2yo that accompanied you (and ran!).

    It's so hard. But, the occupying bit and doing something joyful is probably best for your spirit. You would be volunteering in their class likely on that day, after all. Not a substitute, but perhaps one day you can say, "Yes, I'd be doing this today anyway..." Bittersweet.

  4. We go to the hospital memorial every year and I can not stand our bereavement counsellor AT ALL, so I chuckled with your annoyance at the opening ceremonies. <3

    You have a stunning little creature of a boy at home. That should be enough, and had you not lost his siblings, he would be. But dammit if the loss of the your kiddos doesn't affect each and every thing that happens from August 4, 2011 and on.

    I'll be thinking of you guys. <3

  5. Yep. I'm with you. When I'm having a difficult day with C, I often feel guilt over being annoyed when he's here and his siblings aren't. There is no manual on how to move on without your children. It's an ongoing process. I'm glad you did this walk as a family. I think being able to attend these remembrance events helps to allow a specific time to give part of you to them. It's like an opportunity to really think of them without the crap from your daily life weighing on your mind.

    On a related note: I have been communicating with Amber from:

    She lost B/G twins about 4 weeks ago (at 19/20 weeks) and is in the thick of their loss. Could you reach out through her blog and offer another shoulder?


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