Three years ago today, we welcomed our first child into this world and had to say goodbye to her the very same day.
Three years ago on Tuesday, we welcomed our second child and said goodbye to him, too.
Three years.
Where the hell has the time gone?
It seems like yesterday and yet it also seems like it was a lifetime ago at the same time. It's weird how grief warps your mind.
At this point, I can admit that I don't think about them nearly as much as I used to. They don't consume my every thought like they did in that first year. They are still there, though. Always looming in the back of my mind. That's where they've been and where they'll stay until I die, I suppose.
It's this fact that eats away at me. When I first lost the twins, I always swore that they would be included in my life. I swore no one would forget them because, after all, they are my babies and always will be. I've found that I haven't kept that promise. While they still rest in our living room and I'm not afraid to bring them up in conversation with those I know, that sense of advocacy has worn away. If someone asks how many kids I have, I almost always reply "just one." (I started a new job a few months back and have only talked about the twins with two people there. Pathetic.) They have become some secret I carry with me that only a handful of people know about or even care about.
I excuse myself because of the rationalization that I am caring for an almost two year old. He's a handful and has his own things going on. That is such a weak excuse. Maybe it's because I feel like I am so completely failing him that I excuse myself as such a horrible mother to all three of my children. I can't be a bad mother to one child and not the others...
Their father and I almost never discuss them. I guess we've reached the understanding that we've said all we need to on the topic. We understand how the other is feeling. We are obviously heartbroken and always will be, but I can't remember the last time one of us actually said one of their names to each other.
This has spilled over into our families, as well. I can't tell you if anyone thinks of them, save my mother-in-law. Honestly, I don't know. The loss of babies is such a personal experience, and I realize that my family didn't meet them, so it probably is easier to just move on with life. I get that. I get that they don't know how to broach the subject, especially being raised by a mother who forbade us from talking about the babies she lost. I don't expect much there, but it surprisingly still hurt when we celebrated November birthdays last weekend with absolutely no mention of the twins. I'm not faulting anyone here. If I were in anyone else's shoes, I probably wouldn't bring them up either.
Ugh. why does this situation have to be so complicated? I wish I could proudly discuss them and include them in family functions without things getting uncomfortable. That's the reality of babyloss, though. It's there but no one wants to talk about it. It's a burden that I will carry on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I just hope I don't get crushed under it like my mom did.
I really didn't mean for this to be so bleak. I guess taking so much time away from this outlet and letting the negativity build up will do that, though. I've finally made the decision (and have the financial means) to begin therapy in the next couple of months. I'm hoping this will help sort through everything and get me in a good enough place by their fourth birthday.
Anyway, I need to wrap this up so I can feed Abel. I can't say for sure if I'll be back on this blog or the other one anytime in the next year. Who knows?
Happy third birthday, Madelyn and Liam. You are missed every single day. We love you.
1 comments:
I read it. And, I don't think you're horrible. I think you are doing the best you can. When people ask me how many children I have I always say one. I feel guilty about it, but I also feel the need to protect myself. I don't want awkward silence to fill the checkout line at the grocery store, and I don't want to be vulnerable with strangers. I still think about my boys everyday. I don't blog about them and grief like I used to, but they are there in everything I do. I have issues, this I know, but we all do in one form or another. Don't be so hard on yourself. I have a select number of people I can talk to about my sons and I cherish those people. You are not the only one who keeps the loss of your children "secret". Our children are special and are only supposed to be shared with people who will know just how special they are. There will come a time when you will cross paths with someone who is new to this grief journey and you'll most likely share your children with her. I didn't know a lot of women I was close to lost their children until I lost mine. They came out and shared their children with me, and that was really special to me and to them. It's like a secret club of elite mothers no one wants to be apart of. Happy Birthday to Madelyn and Liam.
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