Escape

Every once in a while, I feel at peace. I feel like Aiden and Sophie were a miracle and I've changed so much from having them here and know that I'll see them again someday-and I feel ok.
Sometimes, I wish that I could escape from all of this. Lately I have been desperate to avoid it all-the grief, the knowing, the sadness.
I think I maybe understand why some people ran from me when I lost the babies. Why when something terrible happens, sometimes people flee.
Because right now, I want to. I want to plug my ears and close my eyes and yell
"NANANANANANANANANANANANANA I CAN'T HEAR YOU" like I did when I was a kid and I didn't want to hear what my mom was telling me.
I don't want to admit that babies can die.
I don't want to be the first person that someone tells when it happens to someone they know.
I don't want to be the person people think of when someone they know needs support.
I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.
I want to run, run and hide. Pretend it never happened.
I am ashamed to admit that. But sometimes, I want to pretend it never happened. What if Avery was my first born? What if I stop talking about them-my family would get right on board with that-trust me. They are forced to remember them, by me.

I might need a blog break. Maybe there are times when this actually is not good for me? I feel safe here, though. On days like today, when I can't stop crying, and my heart feels like it's busting through my chest and like a 1,ooo pound man is sitting on top of me making it hard for me to breathe, this is where I go. It's my safe place.

But then I check the LFCA, and I read about another loss, and I get so PISSED OFF (sorry for the language, yo, but I will admit I have a potty mouth in real life) and I forget how the anger part of grief can rip through you.

And the stupid "WHY WHY WHY" starts all over again. And really, for being unlucky, I'm pretty damn lucky. So why should I even start this-I should just be happy. Happy that I have Avery. Happy that I have what I have. Greedy for wanting more.

And then I want to run away.

But, of course, we all know that running away doesn't help. Grief knows no boundaries, no limits. It follows you wherever you are, wherever you go.

I wish.

Big sigh.

Summer

The first summer that I had to live through without Aiden and Sophie was awful. It was weeks out from their loss. We first decided to plan a trip to France, just Brian and me. We've been together before, but always with students. So we contacted our friends, booked the flight, and I threw myself into planning what we'd do while we were there. I had the whole thing planned down to the tiny details.
Around the same time, I decided I wanted to sell our house. I don't know what came over me, but I HAD to sell it. I talked Brian into it. I'm not sure he thought it was the right time at all-but when your wife is sobbing hysterically all day long every day, I think you do whatever she wants. So we contacted a realtor.
I hate thinking of that day. The twins' nursery was still set up. Right before he came, I panicked because I just didn't know what to do about it. So on top of one of the cribs I put the book "Empty Cradle, Broken Hearts" that I had just finished reading. He, of course, didn't notice it and looked at me funny and said, "Are you guys planning on having kids someday, or what?"
Asshat.
Anyway, it was a terrible summer from then on out. My husband worried that the house would sell quickly (BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-14 months later, is that quick? LOL) and so we canceled our trip and lost a lot of money. Then we waited. And waited. We had no showings. No phonecalls, nothing.
I think if there was anytime that I was depressed in this whole debacle, it was that summer. People expected me to be "over it" and couldn't understand why I didn't want to hang out. I went out once for the fourth of July, and I will never forget sitting in the dark, sobbing while the Fireworks went off and listening to the children squeal with delight. Sophie and Aiden would never squeal at a firework-that's all I can think.
I know that most people get very reflective around New Year's, because it is the end of the calendar year. For me, it's the end of the school year, since I was a teacher. Right now I am thinking back to last summer-that anticipation of Avery's arrival, the desperation that she arrive safely, the waiting-and then the rest of it a haze of sleep deprivation and snuggles.
This summer is so different. It's just so....different. Having Avery here is like a dream. The littles things make me so happy-walking with her outside, putting her in a kiddy pool-but then later, after she goes to bed, I sit here and I think. I let my mind wander...
And I know I shouldn't.
The wondering is not very good for me.
Sigh.
I just feel like my brain goes round and round. It never seems to end on anything, or when it does, something else comes along and jumbles up my thoughts.
When I get like this, the only thing I can think of to do is come here and blog, but I feel like mostly everything I say isn't making any sense anymore. This is backed up by the low number of comments and new readers, I'd say :) I just am in a weird place.
Summer. When they should have gotten here. When I should have had TWO tiny infants, oh, man, how many times can I think this?
I get so stuck in the should have...could have...
I feel like a broken record.

Silence

Today, I had to drive back and forth to my mother-in-law's a bunch of times-she lives just a few minutes away and my husband was helping her clean and organize her garage and we kept needing things from our house. Anyway, each time I drove there and back, I noticed an elderly man sitting on his front porch.
He was alone, it a white rocking chair, just sitting. Looking. Thinking.
He must have been out there for at least a few hours. He looked so peaceful.
I guess I don't know if he was, or not, but just watching him, eve n for a second made me envious.
I wasn't envious of his free time, or the fact that he looked peaceful or happy, or that he had a very nice house.
I was envious of the fact that he can be alone with his thoughts.
After all this time, I can't do it. Driving in the car alone is never a good thing for me. Letting my mind wander is just dangerous. If I'm at home and the baby is asleep, I have to be online. I swear, sometimes I sit and I click aimlessly on the internet. I go to face.book and hit refresh, refresh, refresh. I still can't seem to concentrate as well as I need to read a book. I used to be an avid reader, but the books I can read now have to be mindless-flimsy. Not substantial.

This man, as he rocked on his porch, looking out-I wondered what he was thinking about. I wondered if there was someone he was missing.

I hope that I can do that, someday. Be alone again. Be comfortable again. Be comfortable with myself. Trust my thoughts.

Trust silence.

Where I am right now-792 days. Fading.

The good: most times, the hurt has faded. It is less pointy around the edges. I've healed some-I can see pregnant people, hold a new baby, discuss pregnancy and birth. This is thanks to the amazing blessing in my life-my beautiful daughter. If not for her, I'm confident I would be in the same dark hole about pregnancy that I was in April of 2009.

The bad: the memories of them are fading. The details are starting to get a little fuzzy. I can't quite remember those exact moments in the correct order as I used to when I would lay in bed at night and relive each one instead of sleeping. Sometimes, I could almost pretend that it had never happened.

The middle: Grief. Will it ever go away? I don't think so. It's almost as if it's just lying there, waiting, and will get angry and attack every so often.

I think someone said it really well-life can still be good-but never quite as good as it should be.

STRONG and AMAZING

Every once in a while, our Angel Care Monitor will go off in the night. The first time it happened, I couldn't have even been awake while I ran down the hallway to the baby's room to check on her. A lot of times, it'll go off because a will be sleeping on her side, leaning up against the side of the crib and the mattress won't recognize her movements.
So, now it seems like it's not as alarming to me when it goes off. I mean, I still move pretty quickly into her room, but in my brain I say "AH! Don't wake the baby up, dumb alarm." This is most often.
But last night, her alarm went off and I looked at the video monitor, and she was laying right in the middle of the mattress and her eyes were open. Why are her eyes open, I thought?
Oh, because she's dead. She died. I knew she'd die. Tonight, she died. I knew it. I knew I couldn't keep her. Look at her eyes. I was literally paralyzed. My husband got up, while I laid there thinking She died. She died.
Then she sat up and started to cry.
And I hate myself.
I truly do hate the way I think. Why am I expecting her to die? Why? What if I somehow allow something bad to happen because I think it will.
If I'm honest, I still have scary thoughts. Sometimes, I'll still come around a corner at the top of my stairs and envision myself dropping the baby accidentally. Or I'll wobble on the stairs as I'm holding her and am terrified that we'll both tumble down. Those happened much more frequently when she was a tiny baby, but it still happens. I worry she'll bump her head, and die. How will I let her be a kid?
She fell the other day. She's pulling herself up now and she let go with one of her hands and hit her mouth on the corner of her play table. Her lip got puffy and fat and there was a little blood and she actually, sadly, chipped a little bit off her front tooth. It's barely noticeable but of course I know it's there.
Lately I've been spending a lot of time feeling sad. And I've been struggling with little things in life that are bogging me down.
I'm having some dental problems. I have to have my second back molar extracted next week and I'm worried about that. When this tooth started to hurt (its one I had a root canal on ten years ago, so I knew instantly I'd lose it) I broke down crying. I kept telling my husband, "I can't do it. I can't do it. I'm so tired of having to be strong and do it."
I mean, hello? It's a tooth. Most people I think would be annoyed with it. I'm in tears, screaming. I'm just so tired of having to be STRONG about things. I'm so tired of being AMAZING when I'm not. I'm tired of having to avoid situations and things and feeling guilty when I'm sad and feeling guilty when I'm not.
The grief cycle for me is on an upswing-I'm not sure if its the time of year, or what. Could I be depressed? Maybe. I'm still functioning, it's just...hard. Sad.
So freaking sad, this whole thing.

Changes

I don't exactly know how it happened.
I don't exactly know when it happened.
But, you know when something good (or bad) happens, you want to pick up your phone and tell someone right away? Or you want to get online and send an e-mail. Or a text.
Well, slowly...the people that I want to tell right away are not my "normal" friends. They're not the friends that I've had since high school or college, or even the ones I've made at my job here.
It's my friends that I have never even met. It's the friends that e-mail me to check on me. Call me to tell me they're thinking of me.
Some of the people I've met in bloggy land are some of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have ever known. And, I'd go out and say that I don't think it's losing a baby that necessarily made them that way. I mean, I know it humbles you, changes you, changes your perspective on life. But some of the words and support that I have gotten from all of you has changed me.
Then there's the fact that I have so much in common with a lot of you. I mean, Angie, who else can I chat with for hours at a time about early 90s rap music?
And I talk to Jen about reality tv, and Tina about teaching and Courtney about...well, you get the picture. I just genuinely LIKE them as people.
This summer, I am going to meet a bloggy friend in person (Bree from Baby Butterfly Ella-do you know her? She's fabulous). I guess you would consider her my bloggy bestie. :) My husband has a conference for work near where she lives and Avery and I are going to go along for the trip since the hotel is paid for and A flies for free. I'm so excited! Bree and I lost our first children within a month of each other, got pregnant with our rainbows within in a month of each other, and they are just two months apart in age.
So, people lately have asked what I'll do while Brian is at the conference, and so, I started to tell a few people that I was going to meet up with someone. I feel like...I don't know. I feel like I met a boyfriend using match.com and I have to fess up to my family about it! LOL. I don't know why I even worry about it. But the truth is-I feel SUCH a disconnect from my friends here. I still see them, hang out with them. But I don't feel like I can trust them. I don't feel like I can trust them with what I ACTUALLY feel. This grief is so diffrent. The thoughts in my head are so different. It's so amazing to have people that just get it. That I don't have to explain myself, or hold back information. Some of my deepest, darkest things I have been able to say aloud. And instead of judgment, I get a head nodding right along with what I'm saying.
I guess I don't know what the point of this post is, except that today, on Mother's Day in the U.S., I had bunch of people wish me Mother's Day for the first time.
And then I had those that wishing me Happy Mother's Day for the THIRD time. And that means so much to me. And because of that, when something happens to me, I want to pick up the phone and tell the people that are so kind to me. But I feel so sad about the fact that I have ruined the friendships I used to have. I kind of stopped trying a while ago. I'm so much more of a homebody now. And probably that will change-Avery will make friends and join things and we'll be forced out. But for now, she's a great reason to stay home.
This is going round and round and I think you know what I mean, but thank you. Thank you if you've ever commented, thank you for still commenting when I don't have very time to any more :(, thank you for being there for me. For being my friend.
And happy mother's day to all of you-no matter what part of motherhood you find yourself in.

I walk because...

Here was my speech for the ceremony at the March for Babies. Our team raised over $2,000.

Hi, everyone. I’m Christy and I’m walking today with my team. This is our second time walking together and we’re made up of family and friends and coworkers of mine and of my husband Brian. If I’m really honest, I would tell you that I wish I could say that I walk for the March of Dimes for my twins who are here with me today. I wish that I could tell you that my son, Aiden, and mydaughter, Sophie just turned two a few weeks ago. I wish that I would then have them wave their little toddler hands from the crowd so you could see how amazingly beautiful they are-how far they’ve come from the 1 pound 8 ounces and 1 pound 6 ounces they were when they were born at 23 weeks, 3 days gestation. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that because they aren’t here. But I can I tell you that I’m here because all babies are miracles. Aiden and Sophie were miracles and even though they aren’t here today to show you that-I walk in their memory so that people will know that, and remember. My family and I are here today walking because on a Sunday night, I rolled over in bed and my water broke. For no reason. I’m here today because I did everything right, and it still happened to me. To us.

I’m here because the March of Dimes gave me the biggest gift I could ask for-they helped make it possible for my daughter, Sophie, to wrap her tiny little hand around my finger from her isolette. They made it possible for me to get photos taken, and handprints made. They helped make it possible for them to stay alive-if only for a day-to give them a fighting chance at life. And although they didn’t get their chance, we walk for the March of Dimes so that they get the money they need to continue their research so that someone else’s twins DO get to come home with them. I dream that someday they may figure out what causes preterm-premature rupture of membranes and maybe even how to fix it. I dream that no one will have to plan a funeral instead of a baby shower. I dream that all women can have healthy, full-term pregnancies.

We walk today in honor of all the babies who have been born too soon, or too sick, whether they are here with us or not. We walk in honor of all of the beautiful women that I have met along this journey. The ones that are battling with high-risk pregnancies and incompetent cervix and the need to take p17 shots. Who stay on bedrest for weeks, even months at a time trying to do anything in their power to give their babies a chance. In honor of the women who fight this battle silently or loudly. We raise money and awareness for those of us who don’t know why it happened to us and for those of us that do know why and need help preventing it from happening again.

We are here because in the crowd we have my beautiful daughter, Avery, who will be 10 months old in a week. She was born full-term-on her due date, actually. We were so lucky and so blessed to have a normal, uncomplicated pregnancy with her-but we never would have even tried if not for the March of Dimes. Thanks to the March of Dimes, I was able to read about stories of survival, the stories I’ve read about of preemies that DID make it. The March of Dimes gave us enough hope to try again. That hope gave us the strength and now we have our daughter.

Thank you all for coming here today, in whatever weather conditions Mother Nature throws our way, to support the March of Dimes and to honor all of our miracles