I was always so curious about how Tommy, Oliver, and Greyson would interact. I wondered if Tommy would be different than his identical twin brothers – in both looks and personality. And I wondered if Ollie and Grey would be identical in nature or unique in their own way. I will never know the answer to this – but I do know that my identical twin boys parted this earth in the same, identical way.
My follow-up appointment with Dr. I was scheduled for December 15th and the night before, I was more anxious than ever. I had not felt Grey move almost all weekend and I was dreading having to relive the same appointment I had just days prior. But, sure enough – right before I went to bed on the 14th – Grey started kicking. Small, tiny kicks – much weaker than they once were – but alive and rhythmic. My heart sank wondering if these were the same goodbye kicks his brother Ollie had gifted me with. Emotionally – I no longer felt excited and hopeful. I knew we were losing him and his goodbye kicks made me angry. Was he hurting? Did he know he was dying? What was happening in my body?
Just as I did with Oliver.. I called Mac over to feel my stomach, but the kicks were too weak for him to feel. I walked up to our hallway mirror and took one last pic of my belly – knowing full-heartedly this would be the last time I was carrying more than one living child. I cried myself to sleep and woke up the next morning frustrated and angry. I knew exactly what the day held and I didn’t want to face it.
I can hardly remember the doctor appointment or what was said because I was mentally and emotionally checked out. I remember feeling like the appointment was just one more check mark in the process and I wanted out of there. I sobbed the whole way home – no longer afraid if my hysterics could possibly send me into labor because I wanted this hell over with. I was giving up.
When we got home, I went straight to bed and turned my phone off. I had leaned so heavily on my family and friends during the weeks prior – as a source of constant distraction from the obvious. I wanted company, encouragement, love, support, even attempts at laughter. Now – I wanted no one. I didn’t want my sisters. I didn’t want my friends. I didn’t want Mac, Riley, anyone. I wanted to lay in bed – and cradle my stomach – and feel sorry for myself. For my boys. For our future without them.
Tonight we will go back to the cemetery and do the same thing we did on Friday night (decorate with balloons, light a candle, honor our sweet boy). Ironically, today I’m feeling very similar to how I did last year. Frustrated, exhausted, and angry.
Rest peacefully, sweet angel boy.
(letter from our ‘angels’ that Mac gave me that on 12/15/14)
(Riley’s goodbye kisses to her baby brother, Grey)
The Madness Between 