After living through an experience as perspective-altering as loosing a child, a number of every day things can all of a sudden have a different affect on you than they once did, (meaning you start crying without really knowing why.) There are common things, like seeing other pregnant women or small infants, and there are the less common things, like a random children’s book or a certain cartoon. When you’re thinking of the piece(s) of your heart that are apart from you with every waking moment, some of the most random things can bring you to tears.
In these weeks since my angels deaths, (It’s been 2 months now… and that’s crazy to realize) I’ve cried over lost sleep and cried over choosing an apartment. I’ve cried over Mario (yes, the video game character,) and cried because of couches. COUCHES. Couches have made me cry. And not just once, which is the saddest part. I’ve cried because of couches probably 5 or 6 times! (Couches are just so dang expensive!) Yes, there always were underlying reasons i.e. feeling poor, having to choose the smart way through life instead of the easy way, things people say to me… etc. But the point here is the same. HORMONES ARE STUPID.
Today was a tearful day. For no apparent reason, I found myself crying 4 or 5 times today. Okay, maybe sometimes there was an apparent reason,
but a few times I really didn’t know why all of a sudden I was crying. Like picking up a children’s book from the playroom floor and crying. A happy looking book. See?
Okay so obviously it wasn’t for no reason. In every word I read- especially in poetry- I think of my angels. And just the title of this book alone made my pine for my babies again. The entire book talks about how heaven is doing everyday things with the ones you love. For me, heaven would be waking up in the night to care for fussy babies. Or worrying about how I’ll produce enough milk for them.
I spent the day at my sister’s house with her and her four kids ages 8, 6, almost 3, and nearly 1. I’ve only gone over there once since my babies’ passing aside from today, so today was still hard for me. One of the last memories I have of feeling my boys wiggle around inside of me was there at Em’s house the day before I went into the doctor’s appointment that changed my life. I had been over at Emily’s house again most of the day to help set up and run miss Adelle’s birthday party. And while all the kids were sitting around watching Adelle open her gifts, I was on the couch and inside of me Matix and Tegan were moving around, probably curious as to what all the noise was about. Because of that memory… Being at Emily’s house again reminds me over and over about that busy day and the small wish I’ve had. The wish that I’d stayed home and paid more attention to my growing boys. Counted their kicks and the minute something seemed wrong to go into the Hospital… Dr. Ball assured us that there was no way to prevent what happened. That even if I’d been on bed rest, and monitored in the hospital, their passing was so unexpected and sudden that it may not have been prevented at all. But I still have that wish.
And that is why being at my sister’s house can be difficult for me. Along with the fact that I am constantly reminded by her children that mine are gone. In saying this I don’t want to seem like I’m blaming or angry by any of this. I love my niece and nephews, but their playing and learning reminds me of the plans I’d made for my boys and the things I wanted to teach them. Every holiday is accompanied with that dream I’d made for my sons months before they were to be born. This Halloween I planed to dress our whole family as characters from Mario. The boys would have been Mario and Luigi, I would have been Princess Peach, and Warren would have been Bowzer. And the next Halloween would have been Woody and Buzz, and the next one maybe Ninja Turtles and after that perhaps tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.
Do me a favor- if you know anyone who’s lost a child in their life, no matter how long ago or at what point in gestation or life, let them know you remember their angel. Loosing a child is not just loosing the little time you had with them, but the life time you’d dreamed for them. Just because they didn’t have a long mortal life doesn’t mean we don’t love them with a lifetime’s worth of love.