2 Months Gone

I've been meaning to get on here and update my journey, but I keep procrastinating.  I've been in this zone where I can go a few hours without being crushed by grief.  Blogging just opens me up and takes me to a place where I cry and I guess I've been trying to avoid that.  Today is the two month anniversary of the twins' birth/death though, so I'm forcing myself to check in.  Each day that goes by, I can go a little longer without being overwhelmed by how much I miss them.  That being said, there has not been one single day that I have not thought about Beau and Maisie constantly.  They're never far from my thoughts and every little thing suddenly seems to remind me of them.  I was so worried about forgetting them, but I see now that that will never be possible.  I'm grateful for that.

In the past month I have survived Mother's Day and a 10 day visit with family that included a 15 month old staying in my house.  A local infant loss group was hosting a picnic for bereaved mothers and their families the Saturday of Mother's Day weekend.  I really wanted to go and had been telling my husband about it since I found out a week earlier.  He didn't take off work though, which really hurt my feelings.  I chickened out and ended up not going, which I do kind of regret.  I want to meet other women who have gone through something similar because so far, I haven't found many people who really seem to understand what this has all been like.  I've gone to two Share meetings at a local church, but so far I've been the only one to show up.  I've appreciated the man who leads the group staying to talk with me about my journey, but I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been awkward.  Hopefully someone else shows up next month or I might not go again.

On Mother's Day, I woke up and instantly called my mother to get it over with.  I was fully expecting her to tell me something about it being my day too, but she didn't.  I said, "Hey, Mom.  Happy Mother's Day," and all she said was, "Thanks, Becky."  That kind of stung.  I guess I was hoping for a simple "you too" or something to that effect.  A colleague of mine did give me a hug the Friday before and told me that she would be thinking of me this weekend because I was as much of a mother as anyone else.  I was really touched by that.  It's funny how the people you expect empathy from sometimes disappoint, while others you'd never even think of step up and provide comfort.  Overall, the weekend could have been much worse.

Enduring Mother's Day was a breeze compared to my brother- and sister-in-law's visit. Seeing a baby in my house-the same house where I imagined twins would wobble and squeal down the hall- almost killed me.  I can't describe enough how much I wanted my babies to be doing the things that my nephew was doing- taking a bath, chasing the cats, playing in the backyard.  What made the situation even worse was that my husband's family showed no empathy whatsoever towards me or what I must possibly be going through.  In fact, the second night they were here, my sister-in-law got confrontational and asked me why I didn't love her son when I refused to babysit while she and her husband went out on a date night.  I just tried to softly explain that this was all very difficult for me while she stared me down with cold eyes that clearly showed my excuse wasn't good enough for her.  What I was screaming in my head was "NO! I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY FUCKING HOUSE WITH YOUR BABY WHEN MY BABIES DIED NOT EVEN TWO MONTHS AGO!" Seeing my husband be the perfect uncle to his nephew was so incredibly bittersweet.  He was patient and fun, just like I always knew he would be with Beau and Maisie.  I couldn't help but be thankful that I had a job to go to part of the time they were here because I needed an escape so badly.  That visit was harder than I ever anticipated it would be, but I made it through and I suppose I am stronger for it.

Last month we bought and assembled a shelf that serves as a memorial to Beau and Maisie.  Our plan is that each month that passes, we will add something to the shelf that either reminds us of them or is something we think they would have liked.  I need to remember to take a picture and post it on here next month.  Right now we have their urn and several other little figurines/toys on the shelf.  Today we added two small picture frames that display their footprints.  I hate feet in general, but those prints really touch me.  Beau had my feet and Maisie had her dad's.  It was just one of those immediately identifiable characteristics that solidified the fact that these were our babies.  We made them and they each had little parts of us.  It makes me wonder what other similarities we would have shared.  I guess I'll never know.

Remembering My Babies

Well, the one month anniversary of Beau and Maisie's passing has come and gone.  I wanted it to be memorable, but I think I failed.  My husband and I fought over what to do and by the time we made up, it was so late that most stores were closed.  We did go to Lowe's and get a ladder-style shelf to put in the living room.  Currently, it holds a lamp, the babies' urn, two stuffed elephants that Tender Mercies gave us, a little wooden plaque given to us by our cousins, and their memory box from the hospital.  It's looking pretty sparse at the moment, but we decided that on each month anniversary, we will add something to the shelf.  Once we reach their annual birthday, we will celebrate and come up with something different to do.  At that point, the shelf should be pretty full.

While the shelf is beautiful, I am bummed about how the day went.  I really wanted it to be special for them, but it was basically a normal day.  I went to work and slogged through the motions.  Several people asked if I was okay because I didn't go to lunch with everyone.  When I told them it was the month anniversary, they gave me a pity smile and just backed away, as if I had some contagious disease that could affect them or their children.  I know I shouldn't look at it that way, but I've been angry with people lately.  Maybe it's part of the grief?

It really hurt me that no one even thought about them or me on that day.  I know they weren't anyone's babies but ours, but still.  I really needed a message, a card, something from anyone that said, "I still remember them."  It's so difficult right now, because if I don't bring them up, people continue to go on their lives as if they never existed.  Even if I do bring them up, I get fewer and fewer responses on Facebook as time passes.  I get comments now like "keep your chin up" and "pick yourself up by the boot straps and move on."  Everyone's over it and they're ready for me to be over it too.  But those babies changed my whole world, first when I learned that they were a reality and then again when I lost them.  They are all I think about right now and it feels like everyone else, including my husband, has gone back to the "real world" and my babies are just a sad thing that happened once and have been forgotten.  That really kills me. 

I feel like I need to think and talk about them all the time as a way to keep their memories alive.  I can't really find anyone to talk to about it.  I want people to ask me about them so I can acknowledge their existence and the imprint they've left on my life.  I get so weighed down by the grief that I just want to vent.  I'm worried that if someone doesn't let me unload sometime soon that I will just be that weirdo that brings it up in every conversation, hoping someone will bite.  I envision people whispering about me, warning each other to stay away, lest they end up backed into a corner being forced to listen to me lament about my dead babies.  It's not socially acceptable to talk about such unpleasant things, and yet, it makes me feel better.  I hate being a burden on everyone I love, but I'm not a mystery.  I tell everyone exactly what I need and if that makes them uncomfortable (which is usually does nowadays), they just stop talking to me or they don't respond to my messages or they don't answer the phone.  Maybe I already am that weirdo who has pushed everyone away because she was such a downer about her dead babies.  I also thought that something like this would bring me closer to my husband, family, and friends, but so far, it just seems to have isolated me from absolutely everyone else because they just don't understand.  Will my relationships ever go back to normal again or is this just the beginning of a life filled with loneliness and anger?