I've been quiet for several months. Part of the problem with me and blogging is that I have trouble finding the words to express my feelings regarding the babies. I'm not usually at a loss for words for other things. In fact, I often talk too much.
But for my babies I am quiet.
They would have been two this June. Three little guys running and tumbling over each other and talking. Maybe toddler tantrums. Certainly lots of love and snuggles and sweet baby kisses. I will never know that.
I think that is part of why losing a baby is so hard. You didn't just lose the baby, you lost your entire future with that child. When my grandmother died it was hard. I loved her dearly and I still miss her every day. But I have the memories of laughing with her to sustain me.
I have few good memories of my babies. My memories are clouded with sickness and pain and shock. My memories are of hospitals and blood tests and worried faces. My memories are of desperation and despair and the sure knowledge that there was no hope whatsoever.
My memories are all I have left.
Holding their tiny bodies is another memory. I wanted to touch them and know that they were real and they lived. I wanted them to know how much I loved them and wanted them.
Do they know?
Somehow do my babies know that I loved them so much and love them still?
I don't cry so much. I'm quiet in my grief now. I'm not sure if it is better or just a change. I am triggered by dates. June was their due date month.
