really, it is me. part II

I flash upon the night of July 20th.  No reason for this to come to my mind other than I tend to have thoughts surrounding the birth of my twin girls and their very short lives quite often.

It is hard to comprehend that this really happened to me.  I ask my husband, "did you have any idea this would happen?" No, it had never crossed his mind, he thought we were safely along our way into the fifth month of pregnancy.  I ask my daughter "what are you angry about?"  Mom, really?  I lost my twin sisters this summer, our life has no planning and I don't know what is going on....that is what she said.  We give thanks before dinner with a special prayer at the end for the twins but my son will not include the name of his sister whom he met for the first and last time, right before she died.

My kids helping pack up mama's milk destined for other babies in NICU.

Today I visited with my aunt.  Someone who I had listened to just a few years before as she shared just a bit of her grief over her daughter's death.  At that time I knew I could only listen as I knew not what to say; I did not have the knowledge.  Now I do.

I look around her house at the many memories of her daughter.  So many memories that surround her.  I think wow, she is so lucky to look around and remember this story or that day.  Is she lucky or isn't she? Hmm, am i lucky or aren't I? Does it matter about the luck of these things?

Little brother touching his sister's foot.
I so wish I had a picture of me caressing her toes.

I hold my breathe and wait.  Will there be a shift and do i really want a shift?  I know I can't go on with this heaviness in my heart every time I rise from the bed.  It isn't fair to me, my children, my husband, my mother or even the greater world.  But I also want to savor the grief as it is a reminder of my twin babies.  The grief is a way to be with them and think of them several times a day.  I still want to do that and really I don't know that I couldn't.

See, she has a hold of those sweet toes! (Aunt C. and  my niece)

Today my sweet chubby niece was doing her baby thing by squinching her toes.  I love when they do that.  It reminded me of the special physical time I had with Zaria when I had to have her squinch her little toe to my finger so my day could be complete.  It just amazes me that someone so very small and that I knew for such a short time could impact my life, well totally change my life in a huge way.  Again I am so very thankful and so very sad.

Love to Zaria and Abigail

really, is this me? part I

Postneonatal death: death after the first 28 days of life but before one year.
Perinatal death: death between 22 weeks gestation through 7 days after delivery

hmm, ok yes i am reaching, reaching for something to occupy my mind.  Most of the time thoughts are just floating in and out of my head.  Most of them aren't marked more important than another.  It is just strange after living 37 years of your life one way and all of the sudden living a whole different way, in your head and heart that is.  Society suggests you keep going through the daily schedule of reaching and stretching and reacting and jabbering.  Jabbering about this and that, blah, blah, blah.  That is what it sounds like to me.

I just have to be.  I have to take a step at a time; if i step in gum then i look down, see the gum and scrape it off. If I step too slowly it is probably because I am daydreaming.  If I step into the woods and look up at the trees and see, yes, they are majestic then that is noted.  But I am not able to internalize the beauty of the trees, not anymore.  Now I just see and speak and wake.

I sound weird, yes, but that is because I can't find another word to describe my life.  It feels so different in my brain these days.

Going back in time: the earliest days

Going on a bear hunt..."
Remember this game in grade school.  It was so fun; a little exciting adventure right from your little desk in your classroom.

Tonight I am going on a memory hunt.  I am fearful I will forget my NICU experience and hence forget the moments I had with my little daughter.  A friend suggested I try bite size chunks of the adventure, bite, chew, swallow, wait.  So here goes...

I have been avoiding looking at our pictures from Zaria's hospital stay.  A couple weeks ago I looked all the time and I am not sure why the vacation from this habit.  I have wanted to look but I have had this feeling like I would need this HUGE amount of space to do it.  Pretty sure that implies not only physical space but an uninterrupted space of time and mental energy to stop and digest the thoughts and feelings.

not quite three hours old

Day 2, she really loved her Papa from the start

Looking back on the pictures from the first day to week of Zaria's life I am reminded of growing a baby plant.  This comes somewhat from the 'container' in which she was growing.  The nurse told Luke that the staff like to take home the little plastic covers from the beds once they are in disuse to create miniature greenhouse settings.  When I first saw Zaria I may have thought of her as this little science experiment.  Through my shock glazed eyes I saw a little alien hooked up to all types of machines, laying in her little house.  It was such a disassociated connection between me and her and the rest of her family.

There was no way to grow those connective bonds.  Somehow this was linked to touch and I was scared to touch her (and for good reason as it was probably torture for her little body at 23 weeks to lay on a bed, have stuff glued to the skin, adult fingers poking and prodding, and a tube invading your small mouth and throat.)  It took a few days to realize I would have to reconnect with her spiritually and/or mentally.  I would have to get super comfortable in my body and then look for her spirit.  Then I would try to tune in to her needs and see myself offering whatever the appropriate comfort should be.  This comfort could be imagining me creating a bubble of warmth and liquid around her.  It might be seeing my hands or the softest material I could think of supporting her teeny form.  Also there was a need to soothe her fears and skittishness and let her know that even when I was leaving her for awhile that support would still be around her.

When I look at these early pictures I think of the torture she must have endured.  Sure eventually she may have become more used to it as did Luke and I and others who saw her on a more regular basis.  Aside from the intense physical discomfort I figure she was super scared.  It is hard to contemplate how a baby that immature feels fear but I don't doubt that she did.  Reflecting on this piles on more fears for me.
What have we done to her astro spirit?  What have we saddled onto her being as it continues its journey?  Pain and fear...does her being remember this now or was that something left with the body when she died?

Then I so wish I would have done things differently, so many things differently. I am not even talking about all the changes I would have made prior to birth but the way I 'gave' to her at the hospital.  I wish I would have stayed beside her bed even more (especially in those early days).  I could have spent more time tuning in to her and tending to her comfort.

I see the pictures of me bedside and try to remember what was I thinking.  I know I wasn't thinking that Zaria would die soon but I am not sure I was able to think of her as my 'baby'.  Maybe it was that the shock lessened and I was able to tune into my maternal side, my core.  She did so well that first week of life.  Everyone could smile and look and we didn't have to discuss all the problems.  I know that in many ways I was disengaged from the situation.  I figure the reality of "it did happen to me, to us" was still far from being accepted.

Drop a penny in for me

I wish....I wish.....I wish

I have been finding myself saying this quite often lately.  My memories will flash through my head out of nowhere and they all are so bittersweet.

I was singing songs with my kids yesterday and I couldn't think of any that I knew all the way through other than Christmas songs and lullabies.  We sang a few tunes from each of those genres and I began sharing with the kids where I learned the lullabies or which ones they seemed to like.  Then I said "I wish I would have sang more to Zaria in the NICU."  Why didn't I?  Why was I more reserved most of the time she was there?

As we lay in bed tonight before starting our reading my little boy asked what I wished for?  The first and only thing I could think of and tell him that I wished I was still pregnant.

The first and one of the few times my husband and I had alone together when my tummy was big with babies we sat on our couch and watched a movie (last movie I have seen as it brings back this memory).  I lay his strong, hard working hand on my belly to feel his babies move and kick.  I remember this so clearly and I wish we had more of these memories to hold.

I wish I would have known more about premature labor.  I wish I would have demanded the OB leave 'twin B' in the womb since my body was closing up anyway.  I wish she would have had more time to grow before she had to take on the outside world.

I wish I was a better mother.

I wish I had a chocolate bar.

I pray I can give birth again, safely, and add to my family.


PS I do want to share this book as all of the poems can be turned into great little songs.

CATCH ME AND KISS ME AND SAY IT AGAIN
by Clyde Watson

This is a poem turned lullaby that we sang to Zaria before her short sweet life ended:

Hush a bye my darlin' don't you make a peep
Little creatures everywhere are settling down to sleep
Fishes in the millpond
Goslings in the barn
Kitten by the fireside
Baby in my arms
Listen to the raindrops
Singing you to sleep
Hush a bye my darlin'
Don't you make a peep.

Zaria as we sang a goodbye lullabye.

another day...

Yesterday I was trying to drive down the road and felt something weird on my lips.  I say 'trying' because I am such a mush brain with my new identity as a grieving mother that I will end up forgetting where I am or making wrong turns on a familiar route.

Well I realized the weird thing on my lips was a slight smile.  Funny, huh, or not funny.  The last couple days I have been having such negative feelings, ones I haven't seen since being a teenager.  Thoughts like "I hate my life" and "I care about nothing" and thoughts I can't even really touch and put into words.

My life circumstances are dawning on me, meaning I am stepping into another layer of my sphere of consciousness.

Since the premature birth of the babies and their subsequent deaths I have only been feeling the overwhelming grief and loss of Abigail and Zaria.  Being back in N.C. has brought on the realizations of what stage I would have been in my pregnancy and how the girls would have been born around Thanksgiving.

Our little nuclear family escaped to the shore for a few days to be alone together and spend time healing and grieving on the sandy shore, looking out over the expanse of ocean.  It dawned on me during one solitary walk right after the sun set and as the moon light shone over the waves, that wide open spaces aid in my healing in a way that other spaces do not.  Likening this experience to my walks in the desert in Reno or the couple times I was able to  reach a meditative state....open, empty spaces are good for the soul. 

Back to the smile....the reason for it being so foreign is that I have spent two days in an emotional uproar over losing all the small things in life.  I have lost the ease of my food systems that my family spent years setting up. I have lost the momentum that our new small business had gained.  I have lost my home and lost sight of most of my belongings that friends had packed for me.  I lost many of my benefits of my pregnancy Medicaid insurance. I lost my cat.

I have lost hope.  The hope that was burning so intensely for two months (and before when I carried the babies in my womb and even before that when I knew for some years that we would have more children).  I do hope for my body to carry and deliver and nurse more children.  Although that hope is dull because my attitude is dull (at least at this moment).  Today is the calm after the storm...