Two years ago yesterday I posted this in a private FB group:
I don’t remember much about those first few days in the hospital. In fact, I’ve never gone back to read one post I wrote during that time. 2 years and I’ve linked to them, but never read. It’s still that painful.
Looking back, I can see the PTSD that spiraled from being there and treated so awfully in both hospitals. I understand how people didn’t get why I acted the way I did after the boys died, because sometimes I don’t even get it – but that doesn’t excuse the treatment from people in our life. I didn’t have a lot of PTSD with Kaden’s time at the hospital. The doctors were kind, the nurses were helpful, everyone wanted him to live.
With the twins, everyone just wanted me to leave.
I’m still pretty freaked out by the thought of going to or taking Bella to the dr. I still have flashbacks to those first days of trying so hard to understand what was probably going to happen. Out of nowhere, usually a few times a month, I have the sensation of my water breaking like it did with them.
Twin pregnancy announcements still send me reeling. I find myself thinking over and over, “Why not my sons? Why couldn’t they have grown up?” And wondering what life would be like with identical twins. What would they be doing now? Would Preston be rambunctious like he was inside me – Julian more quiet and laid back?
I still don’t understand why I held onto them for a week. I can’t comprehend the fact that they died – died in my hands and on my chest. They died – as in the same that Kaden did, that my grandpa did, that millions of people do. Just like a tiny person, they died. That fact stuns me to my core and brings tears to my eyes. It was truly death, which so many of us are downplayed at that stage. Like it wasn’t really a life, so it wasn’t really a death.
It was. They were alive.
I haven’t gone through the hospital things or looked at any pictures besides the one of each of them on here since Kaden died. Because my brain still can’t comprehend that fact. All three of them are gone. All three. All the worrying. All the reassurances. All the precautions. All the tears and sleepless nights and pain and remembering and trying so hard to be ok at the doctor.
I just write and write because I still hope that one day it just solves itself in my head. Clicks. It never will but it helps to have it all out once again.
2 years on Saturday. 24 months of grief and grief again. When will it end? Will it? I worry that Bella or Sam is next. That God will just let the ball keep rolling in my life. Why not? I certainly begged hard enough to keep Kaden, even before he was sick. I don’t know, but I keep a hope close to my heart that He listens and no matter what life has in store, He provides me the strength to keep going.
People say, “I couldn’t do it, I don’t know how you have” – I haven’t. If I didn’t have Christ in my life, I would be a much bigger mess than I am now. I can’t do this, it’s the most painful thing ever. But somehow, there is hope and strength from Him that keeps me going, keeps me being a mama to Bella, and wife to Sam. Maybe not the best, but at least I’m trying.
My tiny little boys that never got to see their family – you are so loved and missed. You were so wanted. I hope wherever you are, it’s simply wonderful. I hope that somehow you know how much we still grieve for your short lives here. I will miss you until the day I die and see you again. What a wonderful moment that will be.