It’s 11:30am here. We’re all on the couch, Jynx curled up on Bella’s lap as she plays with her animals. Sam is playing SkyRim. On Saturdays I usually get up before him to tidy up the house, so now it’s rather clean and I’m pleased.
We had a very, very hard therapy session yesterday. Sam goes with me each Friday and we have art therapy together. At first I thought it was going to be pretty dumb – would I be drawing pictures of sad faces and having them interpret colors? But the more we get into this, the more challenging it is. It’s not about the process so much as it makes us use an entirely different part of our brain. I usually end up crying about things that I thought I was pretty much over, or remembering parts of the past two years I haven’t thought of in forever.
It’s not magic or anything. In fact it’s pretty incredible how our brains are designed. I’m even more awed by our perfect creation through this.
So yesterday we had to create our family out of clay. As we made them, I began to get more and more irritated by it all. I thought it was stupid, that of course it was sad only 1/2 of our family is alive. 1/4 of our children. Yes. We get it.
Then our therapist started to ask us questions. “What would it look like if just the twins were here? Where would they be in a picture? What would they be doing? How would you feel right now?”
Somehow seeing those two little boys in our family just did me in. I don’t know what it was, but the impact of seeing what it could have looked like for us just totally tipped me over. I was so angry, seething with rage. I wanted to smash them all, but then the guilt of wanting to do that to those little happy-faced clay figures overwhelmed me. I wanted to let them dry and then grind them into dust – just like they are now. Little bits of dust in a box on our mantle. There. That was realistic and that was our normal and this whole “let’s pretend what it would have looked like” was bullshit.
So then I just started to bawl. And cry and cry about a life we probably would never get anyway, sons we’d never have to raise. Kaden’s autopsy that said his eyes were turning brown and his hair had a “whorl” in it – just like Bella’s does.
I missed it all.
Seeing those happy little faces on there, next to us, I have no idea why it hit me so hard. They’d be around 20 months now if they’d been born when we’d have thought. Walking and talking.
And we wouldn’t have Kaden.
But if we had Kaden – then they still wouldn’t be here.
It’s all so complicated and to grieve them all is just so much. So much.
Then after the session (and my wonderful therapist also crying with me) Sam and I went to lunch. My head hurt and my heart hurt but I knew that session was powerful for helping us heal. I went home, Sam went back to work for a few hours. I spent the afternoon snuggled up with Bella and playing.
Those sessions allow me to have that time to really not be ok. Because for the most part – our days are pretty normal. We laugh and talk, sometimes we cry, but really I’ve learned to accept and at times even love our new normal. Not the loss, but the parts we still have. The life we have is a very blessed one outside of losing the boys.
I still get to not be whole during these sessions, to remember my little boys and the dreams I had for them and for us. It makes me feel closer to them, connected in a way as their mama. It brings Sam and I together in a way that mends what loss tends to put a wedge between. It challenges my faith in ways that make my soul ache for God.
Grief feels so much like love.