today

so trying to get back into the swing of things is hard after a crushing loss...the layers of grief have started to relent a bit and slowly i am seeing a difference in myself.

three months later...

i am no longer a puddle of mush on the couch.

i am not losing it at every love song i hear.
i am not okay. and i never will be okay.
today, though, i can breathe and i can think.

i took this breath of fresh air and decided to send a care package to my nephew who was born the day after my girls. if that ain't the fucking definition of bittersweet i dont know what is. anyway he is adorable and looks just like my big bro. i haven't met him yet. this pumpkin lives far far away but i love him and i squish his cheeks skype-style whenever i can. i sent him a few of the things i had bought when i was pregnant, exactly a week before i went into labor when i was finally feeling secure in my pregnancy. wtf is wrong with me? who that is pregnant with twins feels secure at 20wks? anyhoo, i sent a cute little tummy time mat and a couple of clothing items that weren't gender specific. i also burned a few of my very favorite naptime CDs for them.

it was hard for my brother when i lost the girls. shit, im sure i could switch out the word 'brother' for almost anyone i know and that sentence would read true, but i know that he and his wife took it especially to heart. they had struggled with infertility as well, and after a miscarriage she had finally gotten pregnant on her last chance IUI before IVF. we were looking forward to parenting together. my brother and i spent hours on the phone discussing the horrors of cribs with drop sides, our car seat preferences, breast pumps for god's sake. 3000 miles were melting away as we set out to face parenting together, and kick its ugly ass. we had kicked infertility together and we could not wait for the next chapter in our life to bring us closer than we'd ever been.

 i know that when they cried as they looked into little newborn A's eyes for the first time, a couple of tears were for me and T and our little-family-that-was. im sure they felt bad that i didnt have that for myself. but the truth is i didn't miss out on that moment. i gave birth to my girls and was able to experience the wonder of what that phrase means. i had been so scared of it, of the pain, but now. now i know what parents know, how their words feel when they speak of their child, why their eyes shine. the pain is nothing compared to what happens afterwards. it's heaven on earth, at the risk of sounding cliche, it is the closest thing to euphoria i've ever felt.

seeing my girls, holding them, my heart found it's purpose.
in those few moments i realized that you don't really know what love-LOVE-love! is until you have a child.

even if they die moments later.

that's when you realize you had no idea what heartbreak is.

when i was pregnant, i had a hard time with topics like this. i even stopped reading one blog because i couldn't bear the reality of what this poor family went through. today, i write about my dead babies and i understand how macabre and upsetting that may be to some. i never thought this would be my reality but they were brought into being with positivity and love and i don't dwell on how i lost them but how awed i was by carrying them inside of me, protecting them, and finally holding them in my arms. i thank them for making me a mother and i thank god and all that is right in the world for the glimpse into all that word encompasses.

there is a quiet place in my shattered heart that will always adore that day, despite its abject mutilation of everything good and safe in this world.

and in that little part of my heart, i replay the day they were born, the day i became a mother, and there is nothing but celebration and light

because in that tiny spot lives my daughters' birthday.