Surviving

   The past 11 weeks and 5 days have been difficult. The best way to put it is that I am surviving. There have been some really bad, scary low days. Every day I feel regret about not holding my girls more. I wish I had cuddled them and taken pictures of them. I didn't and it makes me so sad. I wish so much had gone differently that day.

   The hardest part is the constant reminders that life just goes on. I still got a call about getting a breast pump, and I had to deal with telling them that the pregnancy didn't go as planned. I had to deal with the ambulance company listing them as boys and sending me 1 bill, for each baby, many times. I finally called them to tell them they weren't boys! They were confused that they weren't on the insurance, so I had to tell them it was because they didn't make it. I actually had the hospital send me two bills with names I'd just thrown out when the EMT thought they were boys, so I had to tell them to change the names, and the genders, and that they didn't make it. How could they get that wrong? The autopsy clearly states they were girls. I had to tell my dentist. I have to go to a cardiologist tomorrow, where I'll have to tell them too. The worst part is hearing the slight change in their tone, or the shift in facial expression. People  look at you differently after something like this happens. And its heartbreaking every single time.

    I often hear myself telling people "This will be the first successful set of twins" and I cringe. I wish I had never said that. I feel stupid for having gotten so confident. I remember thinking, "well, when it happened to my mom, medical technology wasn't nearly what it is now, so I'm certain...." I was so certain, and I think that's fueled  my anger and confusion. On top of the fact that the autopsy and genetic testing found nothing. They were healthy, they were perfect. They were beautiful.

   My husband is the strongest man I know. Not only has he had to put up with my crazy over the years, but he has kept me sane through this whole ordeal. In the beginning, all his body wanted to do was sleep, but I would wake him up every night, because every time I woke up, all I could think about, all I still think about, is what happened. Like a constant reoccurring playback. I would wake up crying and screaming, and he would pull me close and just hold me while I did. I don't know if I would even call it screaming, just gasping, because I just felt like the breath got knocked out of me over and over and over. As much as it breaks my heart to see him so heartbroken, I am so glad I had him through this. ♥

   Their room is mostly the way it was when it happened. We'd gotten their crib set up, got the extra couch out of there, set up their bookshelf, which was also their changing table. We put their dresser in their closet and the rocking chair in the corner....We had also just put a rocking chair in our bedroom. The first thing Rob did when we got home was move the chair from our room back to theirs. We put the baby bathtubs we had back in their room. Then we put the carpet shampooer back in there, then the AC, and it's just turned into a storage room again. Sometimes I just go in there and stand in the middle of the room. Sometimes I hold their outfits, and I touch their pictures, and I just cry.

   My favorite time of year is holiday season. I've always loved the holidays, but this year I just want them to be over. For Halloween, I wanted to paint my belly as the koolaid man bustin through a wall. Thanksgiving is my favorite, because food, and I just don't care this year. I don't want to be around people, I don't want to sit through a meal, I don't want people to ask me how I've been or what I've been doing. That may seem weird, but I haven't been ok. People keep telling me how strong we are, how strong I am, but I'm not. Some days, I have to struggle to keep myself alive. And, if I'm being honest, if it wasn't for Rob and weed, I don't think I'd be here right now. I don't feel strong even a little bit. I'm so broken. I'm working on it. Had we made it to term, our C-Section date would have been Dec 10th at the latest, so I can't go to Christmas this year, when all I will be thinking about is that my girls should be at least 15 days old by then.

   Apparently, during my body changing to carry two babies (which definitely included my hips getting a good dose of relaxin.....), it also decided that my pms symptoms should be the exact symptoms of pregnancy. All the way down to my boobs leaking. I didn't think I would be as shook up about that, but it sucked. I even got a faint positive on a test, but still started my period the day it was due. That was hard. *Faint positives are common for a while after a pregnancy.*

   The point is, I'm still not ok, but I'm trying not to be too hard on myself, and I know I'm coming off a bit hard to other people right now, but for my own mental health, I have to limit myself on what's going on in my life right now, so I don't implode. Those of you that have been there for us during this time, I love and appreciate you so much♥

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