I wanted something special for Conner and Benjamin's memorial, so I decided to write a few key points to our pastor. What resulted was a letter to my boys, which poured out of me uncontrollably. I ask the pastor to take what he wanted from it and incorporate it into their memorial. He called me and told me that the letter was difficult (emotionally) to read, but he wanted to read the whole thing in its entirety at their memorial. Their letter is below:
Tim and I have wanted babies before we were even married. We picked out Conner's name when we were still dating (Benjamin's name just spoke to me one day while searching for baby names during pregnancy). Everything we have done has been in preparation for them, and when we were finally blessed with a pregnancy it was the happiest we had ever been. We had wanted twins, and God gave them to us.
These boys gave us the best 22 (almost 23) weeks of our entire lives. Tim showed off every ultrasound we had of them (and there were A LOT). Every detail of their nursery and their arrival, I planned daily. Every pregnancy symptom I had was worth just having them for this short time. I am their mama and even at this young age, I know their personalities. Benjamin was our active little one, and Conner more laid back. Both of them loved orange juice (as proved by my only pregnancy craving). They were best friends, even in the womb. They reacted to each other's movements, slept and woke at the same times, and very often were scrunched up as time allowed them to be together.
I tried everything I could to avoid delivery. Multiple days of labor was the least of my pain. But when the time came, I knew it had to be. Neither one of us wanted our boys to suffer. If we had made it another two weeks, we would have had to decide whether to take extreme measures to fight for their lives, which would most likely include severe handicaps and impairments or choose to just make them comfortable. If we had made it to 24 weeks, I would have never been able to make the right decision. How do you choose to fight for your babies, but watch them suffer, or give up on them to let them go in peace?
When we delivered at 22.5 weeks, we had the obvious but difficult choice to just make them comfortable and enjoy our time with them. Both of them were fighters. Both came out breathing. I will never, ever forget watching their chests rise and fall with their little hearts beating and little lungs fighting. Conner made little hiccupping noises - the most beautiful sound I will ever hear in my life. The nurses said we could expect anything between a few minutes with them and a few hours.
Our baby boys gave us hours.
They showed us more strength and bravery than I will ever see another human being show in my life. When I held each of them for the first time, I even stopped crying. They gave me a sense of calmness in the middle of absolute chaos. Each of them were baptized in my arms right after they were born. Tim and I told them how happy they made us, how proud we were, how much we loved them, and how sorry we were. They both passed quietly, Benjamin in Tim's arms and Conner in mine. But their impact on our lives will be felt forever. They have changed us and will continue to change who we are for eternity.
I have overwhelming and extreme guilt over what has happened to them. I have apologized to them over and over and over again. I may have said "I'm sorry" almost as much as "I love you." I am their mother, and I am supposed to take care of them. I have no idea what happened. Did the infection cause pre-term labor, or did the long labor cause the infection? Does it even matter? All I know is that they owe me nothing, and I owe them everything. I will never be able to give them what was taken from them or from Tim and I, and for that I will never fully be at peace with.
I made promises to them that I will never break. First, that I would make sure their cremation was taken care of properly and quickly, and that their daddy and I would come back for their remains and not to be scared. Second, that their daddy and I would read to them from their bibles every night until the day I died no matter what the circumstance. Third and most importantly, that they will always have a mama and they will always have a daddy. If they ever, ever feel like they need anything, please show me some kind of sign to let me know and I will die trying to give them what they need. I am, after all, their mother.
The last words I told them before we left the hospital was that I loved them, and to take care of each other. I know that they will. Although our heartache is a million times deeper because we have lost not one but two sons, we are comforted knowing that they are always with each other and never alone. I asked Tim if we could use his first name for Conner's middle name, and Tim's middle name as Benjamin's middle name. I wanted them to be just like their father. And, God willing if they are, they are strong, self-less, and positive. They are every mother's dream. I like to think that they take these traits with them into heaven, and use them to support each other.
My precious baby boys, do not worry about your daddy and I. We love each other and will support each other through this. Your daddy said that he thinks your hearts might be breaking for us, but I hope that they are not. We will grieve forever, but only because we love you both so much. Every nurse that had come into our room told us that they felt how connected your father and I were and how much we loved each other, and they knew we would get each other through this. I believe that because it is true. The night you were born, your father gave a prayer and asked God that you never, ever go a day without knowing our love for each of you. Please do not ever feel like you are alone. We are always with you, and you with us.
No comments:
Post a Comment