Day 10: Support
I have received support in the most unfamiliar places and people - online loss forums, complete strangers who have shared their loss stories with me, and distant friends who have become like family. We have found the most support in my sister in law, who next to us, probably misses the boys the most. We've lost friends who think that they understand our situation better than we do when in fact, they have never had anything this devastating happen to them before. We have distanced ourselves from people who didn't have the patience for our sorrow, shyed away from conversation that had to do with our babies, and believed that it was time to "move on" and that we cannot be sad any longer. My life is filled with people who truly love us and our boys, and we aren't wasting time on people who told us they would be there and no longer are. Thank you, Conner and Benjamin, for giving us the gift of a true support system in our lives. Thank you for making us see who is worth keeping in our lives and who is not.
My biggest support, though, is my husband. We laugh and cry together. Some days, I think he hurts more than I do over our boys. He is the only reason I keep taking steps forward. Together, we take one day at a time. Through thick and thin, forever and ever.
My biggest support, though, is my husband. We laugh and cry together. Some days, I think he hurts more than I do over our boys. He is the only reason I keep taking steps forward. Together, we take one day at a time. Through thick and thin, forever and ever.
Day 11: Altar
Every room in our house is filled with Benjamin and Conner. Their pictures grace our walls, their nursery has been left untouched, and our love of them fills every square inch of air. But there is one spot in particular that has significant meaning for me: their picture in our bedroom, above seashell candles and a vase filled with reminders of the beach. We had planned out to take them to Hawaii for their first birthday and imagined our little boys running up to the water and shrieking in delight. I'll never be able to look at another ocean without thinking of them. I see the water and wonder how many shores it has touched before finally reaching my feet, and I think of how Conner and Ben are free to roam to wherever their hearts please. Every morning, I wake up and it is one of the first things I see. I say good morning to that picture every day. When we read to them at night, they watch over us. I look lovingly at their picture as I say goodnight.
Day 12: Music
Day 12: Music
I've written about this before, and it is definitely worth mentioning again. Dixie Chicks Godspeed always reminds me of my boys. It never fails to bring tears to my eyes, even 9 months after we lost them. My father in law and the church band played it at the boys memorial. I remember playing this for Tim for the first time - we were still dating. I explained to him that I didn't know why I loved it so much, but it just spoke to me. He remembered that when I played it for him again and asked him if we should play it at their memorial. He immediately started to cry. If ever there was a perfect song for two sweet little boys, it is this one.
Day 13: Season
Every season reminds me of my boys. I think about all they are missing now - the colors of the leaves, pumpkin picking, and playing outside in the crisp, cool air. I think of the summer they missed - the long days, the clear nights, and the trips we took. I think of the spring that they were supposed to be born in - cool and breezy, the Easter Sunday I cried and grieved for them, and my first Mother's Day. But most of all, winter reminds me of my boys. They were born during one of the coldest winters on record. It is only now, months out from when I last held them, that I see the beauty in winter. We are surrounded in white, the coldness brings everyone together in huddles, and the best nights are the nights spend curled up on a couch. The holidays, the lights, and the time to reflect is something that we only find in winter. My babies were born four days after my birthday, and I am only now beginning to appreciate how those dates and that winter brings us closer together.
Day 14: Dark/Light
Words cannot adequately describe the emotions that I experience everyday without my sons. I feel polarized and uneasy; I feel thankfulness and grace. I feel grief and guilt; I feel happiness and peace.
Losing your children is the worst experience in the world. I am torn apart daily. I feel jealousy when I see family photos, knowing that mine will never be complete. I feel anger at my body, blaming it for a premature delivery. But at the same time, I feel thankful that we had the time we had with our boys. No one else can call them theirs. They are mine, all mine. God gave me the best two little boys in the world, the strongest little boys I know. I rest easy some nights knowing that they are in heaven and at the same time, I lie awake thinking that they need me. I fear that this will always be my reality. There is no rest until I can be with them again.
Christmas 2013, few weeks before they were born - one of the last pictures all four of us would be together.
Every season reminds me of my boys. I think about all they are missing now - the colors of the leaves, pumpkin picking, and playing outside in the crisp, cool air. I think of the summer they missed - the long days, the clear nights, and the trips we took. I think of the spring that they were supposed to be born in - cool and breezy, the Easter Sunday I cried and grieved for them, and my first Mother's Day. But most of all, winter reminds me of my boys. They were born during one of the coldest winters on record. It is only now, months out from when I last held them, that I see the beauty in winter. We are surrounded in white, the coldness brings everyone together in huddles, and the best nights are the nights spend curled up on a couch. The holidays, the lights, and the time to reflect is something that we only find in winter. My babies were born four days after my birthday, and I am only now beginning to appreciate how those dates and that winter brings us closer together.
Day 14: Dark/Light
Words cannot adequately describe the emotions that I experience everyday without my sons. I feel polarized and uneasy; I feel thankfulness and grace. I feel grief and guilt; I feel happiness and peace.
Losing your children is the worst experience in the world. I am torn apart daily. I feel jealousy when I see family photos, knowing that mine will never be complete. I feel anger at my body, blaming it for a premature delivery. But at the same time, I feel thankful that we had the time we had with our boys. No one else can call them theirs. They are mine, all mine. God gave me the best two little boys in the world, the strongest little boys I know. I rest easy some nights knowing that they are in heaven and at the same time, I lie awake thinking that they need me. I fear that this will always be my reality. There is no rest until I can be with them again.
Day 15: Infant Loss Awareness Day
Today's topic is actually "community." We lit candles for them that smelled like the beach - our favorite being "Aloha Waikiki," in honor of where we were going to take them for their first birthday. We lit candles in our home and in their nursery. I stared at their nursery for a long time, imagining two little boys stealing pacifiers from each other and laughing at the other one playing with trucks.
I would give anything not to be lighting those candles every year.
We lit candles for other babies gone too soon - Claire, Ava, Jack, Samantha, Staci, Preston, Nathaniel, Petey... the list goes on. I stared at all of those candles, in awe of how many we lit. I still cannot believe how many innocent and precious babies are stolen from this world. We are part of a community no one wants to be in.
Thank you to everyone who lit candles for our babies last night. Your support means the world to me. I cannot even adequately express how every candle lit last night filled me with hope and happiness. Thank you for making this mom's night just a little more bearable.
Today's topic is actually "community." We lit candles for them that smelled like the beach - our favorite being "Aloha Waikiki," in honor of where we were going to take them for their first birthday. We lit candles in our home and in their nursery. I stared at their nursery for a long time, imagining two little boys stealing pacifiers from each other and laughing at the other one playing with trucks.
I would give anything not to be lighting those candles every year.
We lit candles for other babies gone too soon - Claire, Ava, Jack, Samantha, Staci, Preston, Nathaniel, Petey... the list goes on. I stared at all of those candles, in awe of how many we lit. I still cannot believe how many innocent and precious babies are stolen from this world. We are part of a community no one wants to be in.
Thank you to everyone who lit candles for our babies last night. Your support means the world to me. I cannot even adequately express how every candle lit last night filled me with hope and happiness. Thank you for making this mom's night just a little more bearable.
<3 <3 <3 I love what you wrote for "Seasons". It's so beautiful that despite and the bad you can still see some of the good and the meaningful. I love how you said you are beginning to appreciate how it's bringing you all together.
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
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