The day after birth

Me with my boys, right after they were born.  Yes, I am a mess.  But aren't they beautiful?

It's taken me a long time to get to this post.  The day after the boys were born was the last full day and last night we would get with our baby boys before the funeral home came to pick them up.  The boys were born 5 weeks ago today, and that weekend was the longest and fastest weekend of my life. This morning, I woke up imagining myself in heaven and my little boys running towards me, yelling in delight for their mommy.  I played that over and over again in my head until I couldn't take it anymore.  Heaven is much too far away right now.

The hospital lets parents keep their babies until they are discharged. Because I had an infection, they kept me until Sunday. This meant that we had two nights to spend with our babies. If you have never lost a baby before, this sounds incredibly morbid. But if you have lost a baby before, then this is completely normal (motherly, even). I knew that their souls were no longer in their bodies, but I had to have this time with them. I am so glad we did. I am constantly reminded that every day that passes is one day farther away from the last time I held them, kissed them, smelled them, and marveled in their beautiful faces.

Saturday, January 11th:

When I was pregnant, I read blogs of mothers of twins online. It always got me so excited to have twins, because I couldn't wait to see how both of my boys interacted with each other and what their differences and similarities were. I imagined that we would have two little boys who were complete opposites in personality but were still best friends who always wanted to be with the other. I imagined the two of them stealing pacifiers out of each other’s mouths, but then giving it back when the other one cried. I imagined them  laughing at each other for absolutely nothing, or laughing at each other when they were rolling balls back and forth. I couldn't wait to capture every single moment of it. One of the blogs said that when her twins were born, their daddy requested that their footprints go into his Bible. I loved the idea. I asked Tim if someone would get us Bibles so we could do the same. Your grandparents went out and bought two big Bibles for boys that your father and I read to them at night now. They also bought tiny white Bibles for babies. We put both of their footprints in our Bibles, and Conner’s in his little white Bible and Benjamin’s in his little white Bible. We stare at those footprints every night. I can’t believe those were the same little feet that had been kicking at me for 22.5 weeks. What an absolute miracle. All of this, and I am just now realizing how powerful it is to be pregnant and what it really means. I was made for this. I was made to have my baby boys.

I have to say this was probably the day that I marveled in their sizes. 1 pound, 2 ounces each -  Conner at 11.5 inches, Benjamin at a stocky 11 inches. Ben would have had his daddy's build. No one thought they would be so big. Pre-pregnancy, I was 103 pounds at just a couple inches over five feet. I was at this point where I was so disgusted with my body over the fact that it gave pre-term birth to my boys, leading to their deaths. But at the same time, I was so proud. They were both so big! They were eating well. My body fed them. And then, when we got home, I immediately lost all the weight and then some. It was like proof that my body had put them first during the pregnancy and fed them before me.  I have to say that I am glad about that. My big boys - I get offended when someone says you were so small. I correct them. I’m probably not very nice about it, but I don’t care. You were big. You looked healthy. Sometimes that makes this whole process harder to accept.

Saturday night I finally managed to convince myself that I indeed looked like a homeless woman searching for her lost, imaginary sheep. Pregnancy meant that my acne had blown up, especially since there were not many safe topical creams to use during pregnancy. Right before I got admitted to the hospital, I had this rare and stupid idea that I did not need to blow dry my hair. When that happens, my frizzball head makes me look like an awkward teenager of the 90’s. My lips were chapped from the dry hospital air. I had a look on my face that was neither alert nor sleepy; more like empty. I was swollen from all the fluids that had been pumped into me that my stubborn body refused to give up. I had a rash ranging from my neck to my calves. Plus, I had been in active labor for about 40 hours so I had literally been sitting in my own pee, amniotic fluids, blood, and other bodily fluids. Tim said I didn’t smell but maybe that was because he didn’t notice above his own stink from coming straight from the fire department to the hospital days before. I asked the nurse if I could shower. It was one of those showers with a seat in it, and the nurse had set down tons of towels for me to sit on, and it turns out, bleed on. The water felt good against my skin. I had a hard time bathing myself and wanted to ask your father to help me but I did not want the boys to be left alone. So I insisted he stay with the boys and I clumsily tried to wash the remnants of a four day hospital stay off of me. Besides, I wanted pictures with my boys in which I didn’t look like a mad woman off her meds. 

That night, after reading to them from their Bibles, I slept with little Benjamin next to me since Conner was next to me the night before. My left hand was wrapped around Conner, my left arms gently placed over both of them. My right arm was underneath them. I didn’t want them to be scared the next day when we had to part ways, so through tears I explained what would happen to them. I told the boys that tomorrow, they would both be leaving the hospital with some people they didn’t know. They would both become ashes, but they would do this together. I explained that we didn’t want to bury them and that their ashes would be spread with me and their daddy’s ashes someday. Until then, they would stay with us at home. I knew I would guard them with my life. And I explained that I would try my hardest to have the process done as quickly as possible, and that mommy and daddy would come back for them as soon as we could. I explained this to them again on Sunday, because I wanted to make sure they understood we were not abandoning them. I could see what time was doing to their beautiful little bodies and I wanted the cremation done as soon as possible. My baby boys – I never expected such perfection from them. I’m not sure why. I shouldn’t have expected less. I just didn’t realize how much I could really love someone until I looked at both of them. I am still speechless every time I look at pictures of them both.

Something happened that night that had also happened Friday night while I tried to sleep with them both next to me. I had my left arm around both of them, and it was like my arm was slightly rising and falling as a result of them both breathing. I knew they weren’t. But I thought maybe they were both trying to send me a sign. Maybe I was delusional from the drugs, lack of sleep, lack of food, and/or infection. But maybe, just maybe… they were trying to tell me they were ok. I’ve been waiting for a sign from both of them telling me they are ok. I think I’ve had some, but nothing that is a blatant sign that I cannot ignore. I told them both that neither of them owed me anything.

But, baby boys, if you could just tell me you’re ok every once in awhile, mommy would be so happy.

I had been crying so much I had something wrong with my eyes. Almost like little tear bubbles in the corners appeared overnight. The nurses wanted me to take Benadryl but I refused. I knew Benadryl made me sleepy and I absolutely refused to be in and out of it on my last full day with you. I was sleep deprived, recovering from an infection, and dealing with edema. I didn’t care. I had to be awake for this. I had to be fully in the moment. Taking care of myself could wait until we got home. But Saturday night, I did get about 6 hours of sleep. I woke up once, I’m not sure what time, and realized where I was. I had my arms wrapped around both of you. They were so still and quiet. I cried all over them again, told them I loved them, and passed out. I woke up Sunday morning, frantic. This was the day I had to say goodbye and had to hand them over to strangers. I would never hold them again.

Conner's giraffe and Benjamin's puppy that we gave them on their one day birthday, sans babies. 

I wish there was some magic ending to this post that could wrap things up.  There isn't.  I can only say that I miss my boys, and for the first time in my whole life I am ready and open to whenever God would like to take me.  I always used to feared death, but I cannot wait to see them again.