Thoughts

Sometimes I wonder if I will come back here and express something that is hopeful or peaceful, that type of thing.  Not yet.

I still think of my girl babies several times a day.  Every night as we end our meal's blessing we give a shout out of love to Abigail and to Zaria.  Now when I say these words my mind flashes to pictures of them.  I see Zaria nestled under my cardigan with her eyes wide open feeling my heart.  I see the picture the nurses took of Abigail's body.  I think I wish I had not seen these pictures.  We had decided not to hold her body or see her after her explosive birth of death.  Hmm, not sure how to say that right.  I am sometimes sad that I did not hold her body and sometimes I feel guilt.

The nurses present you with a memory box and we now have two of these.
Zaria's memory box is filled with little items that we experienced with her.  Abigail's box was filled with a dressing gown and hat and a blanket with which she was posed.  Weird? I don't know.  Endearing? Not so much.  Now that picture haunts me.  I have to figure a way of reprogramming what I see in my mind when I think of her.  Now if I can only find the key to that new picture.

Tonight at dinner I remembered eating corn on the cob the night I went into labor with the twins.  Those memories will sneak up and stop your breath and remind you.
The thought of getting on an airplane, the thought of going back to Reno, the thought of a new baby or babies filling my womb....I just don't know what to think.

Rain wash me away

I hear the rain beating on the tin roof wishing it would wash me away.  Sometimes I want to de-materialize and stop thinking and feeling and hurting.  Probably not a few hours go by without something reminding me of my pregnancy and my lost babies.  Tonight I stumbled across the first email I sent out to friends and family telling of the labor and loss and birth and hope.  I still cry and despair and wonder at how time has marched onward: it has been almost six months since I delivered the twins.  I still ache and wonder why I don't have my arms and time filled with two little 2month old girls.

My life is really not so smooth these days.  I have lost friends, been hurt by family, battling with dietary and health crap, and not knowing how to relate and soothe my little home full of people.  When problems arise they seem so big, so heavy.  I think, dang I am wasting another minute, another hour, another day.  What to do?

Certainly my biggest concern is for my husband and my kids.  I have been afraid to feel deeply for them, to touch and give fully of myself.  It hurts and it is scary and so very painful.  From this trauma my imprint of deep feelings is so huge and hard and hurtful.  Certainly at times I want to give up.  Mostly I want to save my family and friend relations but right now I just want to cry.

Keep myself busy, forward on:  wash the dishes, prepare the meals, teach the kids BUT where is the time to feel?  It is going to take some time, it can't be rushed.  It is going to hurt like a sharp knife but I know it has to happen to move forward, to heal some.

and i thought i was done

I thought i may be through with this venue fearing that I had nothing new to share and afraid that it was unhealthy, the thoughts and processes I was going through.

oh well...

Tonight i watched my young son's face as he slept.  As usual I was overcome with joy in the miracle of his health and a bit of fear that I couldn't always keep him from harm.  I also felt a wave of sadness as I thought of the beauty in his and his sister's faces and how I wonder how the faces of the twins would have looked as they grew.
I miss them so very much.

I finally went to a park yesterday and today.  I have been uncomfortable in the thought of going but I knew the kids would enjoy the time.  They did and yes I was also uncomfortable.  I feel such a longing and sadness when i see families with more children than i have.  My imagination turns to thinking of how the twins would have looked beside their brother and sister in the park, playing and exploring life.
I miss them so very much.

Sometimes I think of what I would be doing now if my pregnancy would have lasted to full term.  I wonder if the body has some imprint that it 'should' be pregnant right now.  I would have been resting a lot most likely being big with the twins.  I would have counted and folded new and old receiving blankets remembering their stories of my other children and thinking about the new stories they would hold.  I would have had my old trusty white wire shelves full of diapers and blankets because really that is all you need to get started with the little ones.

I see my family and am filled with gratitude.
I see my family and something seems missing.  We seem like such a smaller unit than we should be.
I see my family.  I remember my twin girls.  I hurt for the pain Zaria went through in her short earthly life.

I think the pain of losing a child is the greatest pain one can bear.  When I think of my deceased father, I miss him.  I wish he could have met my husband and my children.  I recall all the loving memories of my life with him.
When I think of my lost baby girls I am overcome with grief.
I miss them so very much.

making myself write or right

I had to revisit pictures tonight. I have been so sad, can I blame hormones and the full moon?  Probably not totally as i am seeing and feeling this grief process as a big circle.  Sadness to anger to sadness to numbness to disbelief and so forth, these are the days for me.  It is still quite astounding when I notice myself laugh and I catch myself and look at myself and think "what am i doing?"

Honestly, when I look back on the summer's experiences of losing my twin babies and the time spent in the hospital with Zaria, the word that is stamped on my brain is harrowing.  The pictures and glimpses I scan through as I do the mental roladex thing just makes me think: harrowing.  I am not feeling joy from the pictures; I feel so bad for Zaria's pain and existence in that hospital room.  I am angry with myself that that is the word that I associate with this/these experiences.

A few days ago Luke and I realized that she would be almost four months old or we realize that I would be in my final few weeks of pregnancy.

I have not wanted to write.  I feel like I was forcing myself and not wanting to expose myself to others.  I have had a 'make-over'.  There are some parts of the old me that exist but there is a new part added and the old part is colored with the new part as well.

The holidays....sheesh.


Added Note:
although I sat with tears last night by putting my jumbled feelings and thoughts into written word I felt lighter somehow.

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.