In the summer of 2010 April 3rd suddenly became one of my favorite days of the year. And then I miscarried the babies that were due this day in 2011.
Three months after I lost the twins I became pregnant with C. My last baby, his almost constant sweetness-at least until he doesn’t get what he wants, his ability to morph into a tantrum throwing maniac in two seconds flat, his never ending desire for cuddles, his joy when he sees his father or me, his sweet little Tweety Bird face-the huge eyes fringed by thick dark eyelashes and delicious little mouth that hangs open like a beak, being able to stare into his eyes while I nurse him, I can’t imagine a world without him.
But if the twins had lived I know I wouldn’t be able to imagine the world without them either.
Everything happens for a reason.
Bullshit. That is a load of fucking bullshit.
C isn’t some gift from the gods to make my pain from the miscarriage go away. I didn’t learn a life altering and valuable lesson, becoming a better person in the process after I lost a pregnancy that was planned and wanted. There isn’t some Divine Being rewarding us after putting us through trials. If that were the case couples struggling with infertility would eventually get pregnant. Cancer would be a really shitty illness that we all heroically overcame. No one would tragically die young.
Everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Things just…happen. Sometimes good things, sometimes bad things. Our life isn’t ‘better’ with C in it. Our life wouldn’t be ‘better’ if the twins had lived. I can grieve for the children who were once alive inside me while still loving the son I conceived three months later with my whole heart. Life is messy and unexpected and it hurts like hell and it is incredible and it is full of joy and love and hate and ambivalence and pain. All at the same time.
April 3rd is messy. Our wedding anniversary will be messy for the rest of our lives. Things will continue to happen, things totally outside our control. We will keep doing the best we can. This is a day of grief and pain, but somehow there is also room for silliness and love. T climbed into bed with me this morning and cuddled his tiny body into mine and gently told me it was time to wake up. C and I looked at the wall of pictures in our stairway, I asked where family members were and he pointed to their faces. Z and I managed to stop for a minute while rushing through our morning routine and looked into each other’s eyes and shared a kiss. Our life is full of love, but that doesn’t replace or negate the loss. The good and the bad live together. There is ample room in my soul for all four children I conceived.
Somehow a snowy morning feels right on this day.
My little Tweety Bird found an R2-D2 “egg” on Easter.
Evidently, he can now undress during naptime.