Sunday, July 13, 2014

the hardest thing, for us.

i've had time to mull over my thoughts about something that's been heavy on my soul.  putting it into words has proven to be difficult.  i've been debating this for weeks and have found that if i don't write about what happened, i would be leaving out a huge part of our story.  when we are 70 and scrolling through we would still come to this time in our lives and pause and acknowledge to one another that "that's when 'it' happened".  more so, i feel the need to acknowledge these beautiful little lives, our two angels that by our standards we weren't given the time we wanted with, but who changed us both forever so, so deeply.

we were pregnant with identical twins.
we were stunned and slightly terrified but then rose to the challenge.  we sold our home in the city and bought a house in the suburbs to fit our five person family and one smelly pup.  the name game was played and we even settled on two boy names and one girl name (girl names are so hard for us?!).  we laughed about how we won't ever go through the "empty nest" stage because all three will go off to college at practically the same time.  we figured that at best, we would only need to get one car for them because at 16 months apart they would be irish triplets and most likely end up at the same high school parties anyway.  we daydreamed and talked about the twins, nicknaming them hooey and looey / the twinkies.  they were ours and they were loved.

multiple gestation pregnancies are always high risk.  identical multiples are at an even higher risk because they are susceptible to twin to twin transfusion syndrome.  this was our case.

i went from bi-weekly ultrasounds to weekly ultrasounds very quickly.  we traveled to rhode island to meet with doctors and discuss surgical options, walking on eggshells the whole time.  and then our biggest fear became our reality.
we lost baby B at 18 weeks and baby A at 20 weeks.

two babies lost.  two heartbreaks.
when you lose something you love so fiercely and so dearly, it shatters all of you.
i miss the dreams we had for our family.  i miss being pregnant.  i just miss these babies.

their lives feel like a whisper.  a reminder of the preciousness in life.  a violent shake to wake us up and have us recognize our many blessings; how much of that we were taking for granted.

a piece of him and i was brought together.  not for this world, but eventually - we will be with them for eternity.
we find peace in that.

1 comment:

  1. This is brave and beautiful, Christina. Continuing to send love and prayers.