12 weeks. 12 weeks 2
days. It was suppose to be safe to
tell the world we were pregnant. The online pregnant community (which I
secretly despise) would say 12wk2d. I was suppose to anticipate calls from
friends and family with their congrats. Congrats on “TWINS!” they would have
said. We sent out letters knowing they would arrive when we reached the 12week
mark. The “safe” mark. Instead, I had the worst day of my life. My husband did,
too. Something was off. But nothing that caused great concern for me and of
course not for my husband- the rock and pragmatic one throughout this all…
Nevertheless I called the doctor. (It was a Friday). “We have no openings but I
can put you through to the nurses hotline,” the receptionist said. Within one
hour the nurse called back. “After hearing your symptoms I think you should
come in right now.” (My “symptom” was
light spotting- not enough cause for a great
concern, but through my tears this nurse had compassion on me and fit me in
immediately). So I went straight to the doctor. I went alone. I went because
they wanted me to. I went because my husband needn’t have worried. I went
because. . .
12weeks 2days, 12wk2d,
I should have been in the clear. I should have had a moment of joy seeing their
little heartbeats again. The “silly” one dancing with his arms and legs upside
down (his preferable choice) and the “calm” one in typical fetal position
resting the way she liked to (right-side up). Not today. Not this day. No,
instead, I saw two sweet, angel babies lying on their backs with no movement. I
saw every, single mother's worst nightmare: my babies were no longer living and
dancing (or snuggling, sweet baby B- baby girl) in my womb. They were very much
there, but their Spirits were in heaven.
I want to write about
the grief. And the anger. I will. I will soon. I need to. But today, I need to
write that it is not fair. It is not okay and even though the Lord WILL turn
these ashes into beauty, I cannot see that now. Have I had glimpses? Yes? But
my reality? No.
I hate July.
Tomorrow they will take
my babies out of me. Sleep sweetly in the arms of your Savior my dear, precious
children. We love you so deeply. We
know you both are in the arms of your Savior and you did not experience the
pain of this world.
We are experiencing it
for you.
