Tomorrow...another harsh "anniversary"...

Tomorrow would have been my first identical twins 2nd birthday. Tomorrow I would have had 2 year olds. Tomorrow...I don't. And losing my Jack and Ethan was the most devastating moment of my life over 2 years ago. For years and years of trying, and then finding out we were expecting identical twins via IVF (we had lost a triplet in there somewhere along the way as well :( ), I niavely believed and trusted that these precious little ones would enter our arms alive and well. We often laughed at how we would tell them apart in the early days and thought of different ideas. We niavely allowed the news to spread. We niavely believed there would be no retracting our announcement. And then...there it was. The worst moment (at that point) of my life. Brett and I had gone for my 12 week ultra sound...and as the doctor pressed the wand to my belly...I turned my head away. For some reason I had felt doomed that morning before our appointment. For some reason...something was eating at me...and it wasn't my babies taking nutrients from my body to their own. And then the most horrifying thing to hear (once again at that point in my life)..."I am so sorry...I don't know how to tell you this...your babies are no longer alive." Then looking at Brett's face, and feeling the room going dark as my head spun with the news I was just informed. WHAT?? My babies had died?? When?? How?? WHY??!! And why didn't I know!? Why couldn't I feel that my babies had stopped living? What kind of mother was I?! I remember the doctor giving us a private moment and then out of sheer luck my OB had come in to the office on her day off so we were taken to her room, where she appologized and hugged me and went over my options. OPTIONS?? What do you mean?? What was happening?? I could take a medication to bring on the miscarriage to completion, or we could schedule a D&C. My OB recommended the D&C because a "natural" miscarriage could take weeks and would be very frightening...and other medical issues could have arisen. We were given time to think about it, and she said she would call me later that day. We were led out a back hall so we wouldn't have to face the room of pregnant, joyful, hopeful, blissful mothers-to-be, with their babies still alive inside of them...while I...was a walking tomb. I remember calling my mom on the way home and only being able to say "they are gone". I remember my parents coming and sitting with us as we tried to process our new reality. The death of our first children. The death of our hopes and dreams for these precious little lives. The death of...niave, blissful, hopeful, joyful pregnancy. I went in to a depression. I couldn't stop crying for months and months. Ya, I got to a place where I could foster a laugh and a smile...and so began the mastering of the disguise of what was truly going on inside of me. I was a mother who failed her children. I was a mother who couldn't protect her babies. I was a mother who believed with everything in her that her prayers and cries were finally to be answered. I was a mother who lost a part of herself. I remember the day we went for the D&C. I remember I couldn't stop crying, and the precious nurses who just held me, and removed the polish from my toes to prep me for the "procedure". The final removal of any piece left of my first children. I remember a nurse saying "it's okay dear, you can try again! You will have another baby". And I remember wanting to take my IV tube and wrapping it around her neck and screaming "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THIS TOOK THIS TIME???? DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG WE HAVE DREAMED OF THESE BABIES? DO YOU NOT REALIZE THEY WILL NEVER BE REPLACEABLE? DO YOU NOT KNOW I MAY NEVER GET THIS AGAIN???" I wish people would read a persons file. I wish that nurse would have known in advance my lovely label of "unexplained infertility" and that this was my one chance from our first IVF round. I wish this nurse had just said "I am so sorry for your loss" and left it at that. I remember after the "procedure". And the angel of a nurse who walked me in to the bathroom and lovingly cleaned all the iodine off from me, and then as she stood...looked at me with tears in her eyes and asked if she could give me a hug, and then telling me "I truly understand, and I am so very sorry." We found out of our loss on December 6, 2007. At Christmas time, where we are to be thankful, and joyful and greatful for the gift of Christ. And I was, and I am. But in the same breathe...I wanted to go to heaven and scream at God. And ask Him WHY he would dangle such beauty in front of me only to rip it out of my life. I was angry. I still get angry. Even more so now that Zac is up with his siblings instead of all four of my children clammering around my legs, screaming at each other and laughing and giggling. I never knew what became of the remains of my babies. I remember walking from the hospital thinking...why didn't I request their remains? Did they get tossed in the garbage? Were the burned in an incinorator? Where did they go?? And then I learned something I never knew. Last week my dad spoke at a memorial service that is held yearly at one of the gravesite here in our city. There is a funeral home in our city who realized the need for a resting place for our "unknown children". I don't know all the details, but this funeral home realized that there are parents out there who will never have a grave site to visit their precious little one(s). Apparently they go to the hospitals and gather the remaining tissue of the little one(s), cremate the remains and take it to this memorial site where they are given the dignity of a resting place. They still may remain nameless...but they now have a place where their families can visit them, and know that SOMEONE out there loved them that much...even though they never knew them. I don't know if my Jack and Ethan are there. I don't know if their remains were given that precious dignity. I do know that I have always felt like I dishonored them by just leaving them there at that cold hospital. And every day I would drive to work, I would see that hospital, and every day the tears would fall thinking that this was the only resting place they had. I had precious 12 weeks to believe the dreams we held for our babies. And for 12 weeks...I was so blissful and hopeful. For 12 weeks...I was a mommy. And then in a blink of an eye...it was all gone. Yes...I was...AM still their mommy...but no one knows. No one knows tomorrow they would have been two. No one says their names...but really...what would they say? No one knew them...except me. Even for Brett it was a different experience because only I had the physical connection to my babies. It was just different...and that's okay. I have been a bit surprised at how hard the past few days have been as I felt tomorrow approaching. It has been over 2 years since we said goodbye...but it hurts just as much today. Even more so now that we had to say good bye to Zac as well. Harsh feelings come over me about myself. I feel like a failure as a mother. I feel like I couldn't protect my children. Evan is a miracle! Evan beat so many odds! Evan is who gives me the knowledge that some miracles can still happen. I am so greatful for my son....for all of my children. I am so greatful that Evan has kept parts of my heart alive. But right now...I miss my babies so much. And it hurts all over again. Maybe more because I hurt alone. Maybe because tomorrow I know I don't have a gravesite to visit. And still don't even really know if they were ones that made it to this precious memorial site at the other cemetery. What I DO know is that my children ARE very much alive and well in heaven. And that I WILL be with them all again one day. And for that knowledge...I will smile tomorrow through my tears. I will hold them close to my heart. I will love them always!! Mommy loves you so very much my sweet angels!! xoxoxoxoxo