Holidays are hard

Just when you think you’ve figured out the grieving process, something else happens and it throws you for a loop.

                We had been trying to get pregnant for nearly two years, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I knew quickly when we were pregnant. In fact, I knew two days before my missed period. Partially due to my lack of restraint when it came to taking pregnancy tests, because of how eager I was to just see a second pink line, and because that weird pain in my boob was weird. After all of that waiting, the second you see that faint line, you imagine your entire future in a moments time. It’s an incredible, warm, overwhelming feeling. It's beautiful.  The moment I found myself gripping both my counter and my shower in pain, I started seeing a different future. I was scared.

                Most of my grief has been having a hard time walking into my doctor’s office for the first time, and looking directly into the ultrasound room where we found out we were having twins, and losing all control of my emotions. Or going in to the doctor for the first time by myself since, and sitting next to a new baby in the waiting room who can’t stop staring at me. Even hearing a baby cry, or seeing a very exciting pregnancy announcement. In all the moments that have made me happy, all I can do is cry. Then there are moments that you’ve never prepared for, because you never expect it to happen, like having to call the ambulance to make them take the names that were thrown out off of the account, because we never said those were their names or that they got the genders wrong. Then having to call the hospital to tell them to change the names on those accounts too, because we never once said those were their names! Or finding out that, since a pregnancy loss before 20 weeks is technically a miscarriage, but our babies lived, but weren’t born in the hospital, they won’t be covered by insurance, so we must pay almost $900 for each baby’s ambulance ride. I never could have been prepared for this whole after process. However, Cindy, from the OHSU billing department was kind enough to talk to her department lead and get any charges for the girls that the insurance wouldn’t pay for removed. So Cindy, thank you for the best Christmas gift I ever could have asked for.

                The holidays have been hard, and of course, in ways I couldn’t imagine they would be. Thanksgiving brought anxiety and nightmares that were incredibly uncomfortable. Wondering if people would start inviting us to dinners. Wondering if we even wanted an invite. Deciding we didn’t really want any invitations. Being upset when we got an invitation, and a small part of you getting sad about not hearing anything from certain people. Why was I even worried? Why did I even care? I don’t care anymore. There comes a point in your grief when you must remove the negativity and toxicity from your life, and you must only care about yourself for a while, or you won’t make it. For me, that’s keeping to myself and focusing on small tasks, on days when I can, and sleeping on days when I can’t.

                Then there was Christmas. Remember that thing I said about being thrown for a loop. Oh boy. Christmas Eve and Christmas have sure done a good job of that. When we first found out we were pregnant, we originally thought our due date would be Jan 1^st. Since we were having twins, we eventually had a due date of, no later than, December 10^th, 36 weeks and 6 days. The furthest you can go in a twin pregnancy without getting too far into a danger zone. When we first lost them, I had anxiety about their due date, and originally, I’d thought about Jan 1^st, and then December 10^th came, and I had a realization that I had no idea what their birthday would have been, because they would have come early, and then there’s a small part of me that remembers that they did, they came on August 12^th, and that is their birthday, but when it’s associated with a day like that, it takes a while to accept that. After I accepted that, I embraced that their birthday would have been December 10^th, and I stayed in bed that day. I cried, and I pouted. Even that didn’t prepare me for Christmas Eve and Christmas though.

                Christmas Eve, December 24^th, 2017, we had a light snow. I love when it snows. I love the calmness, the sound of less cars on the road. It’s one of my favorite feelings. This year, all I could think about, is how my babies should be two weeks old, and having their adorable pictures taken in their first snow (if we were lucky to not have a NICU stay), and how they would have adorable jammies for Christmas Eve, and my husband and I would hold our beautiful babies, and just be content. Instead, I cried and cleaned my house as a distraction. It’s one thing to see what your future could hold, but when you’re seeing a future that can’t happen, it’s a pain in your heart you didn’t know you could feel. You start to feel like it’s hard to breathe again, and the anger creeps back up.

                Then I woke up on Christmas morning, and I see everyone’s happy posts on social media, and I start seeing the unobtainable future again. So many pictures I want to take of them. Pictures, I will never get, and all over again, I regret not holding them and taking my own pictures of them. I’m heartbroken that I hung my “Granddaughters First Christmas” ornament, and didn’t have two “Babies First Christmas” ornaments next to it. I hear stories of twin moms enjoying their babies, and my heart fills with an indescribable joy and pain at the same time. This Christmas was supposed to be the happiest and most memorable of my life, and currently, it’s the saddest and most memorable Christmas of my life.

                My heart longs for twins. I am, and will always be a twin mom, but it’s not the same as raising twins. I had hyped myself up for deciphering the secret twin language, watching them interact, and knowing they’d always have a friend. I want more babies, and I will love my children, but my chances of conceiving twins have lowered significantly, and my heart will always miss having the chance to raise twins. Here’s to hoping 2018 has good stuff in store for us.