“You’re on the roller coaster so buckle the f@ck up” – hands down my favorite words Dr. N has ever spoken. I sat in her office this past weekend – with my head in a complete mess. I explained how life feels thrown up in the air and I haven’t a clue how it will land. As expected with this time of year – sadness has crept in fast and heavy and I’ve been doing a full sprint to outrun it. I have been overbooked with photography sessions, planning parties, doing projects around the house, filling up my calendar with everything possible that will add ‘peace and happiness’ into my life. What I’m really doing is avoiding. Dreading thinking about what this week represents and the painful days ahead. Dr. N told me my homework for the next week was to give myself at LEAST 20 minutes a day to sit down and just s.t.o.p. Think about where my head is… where my heart is.. and find my grounding.. as painful as it may be. It’s somewhat ironic that this past Monday morning (2 days after our session) I was in the ER on IV fluids / meds for a horrible flu bug -and have been forced to do nothing but lay ever since. And think. Sleep. And think.
It was two years ago this week that my life was forever turned upside down. A week that started as an appreciation of exciting milestones – maternity pictures, final touches on the triplets nursery, prepping for our last Thanksgiving as a family of 3 – and one that ended in life-altering devastation. I spent the holiday that year, in a hospital bed, strapped to a million monitors watching my two babies lives dwindle away.
Dr. N asked me how I’m feeling this year – with Thanksgiving coming up and the memories that have been permanently attached to it. My answer: ‘weird’. Last year, I was sad but so grateful that I wasn’t spending it in the hospital and away from Riley. I was grateful to be in my beautiful home with my husband and TWO healthy children – my dad – my sisters and brother-in-laws and nieces and nephews. I was surrounded by all the people who know my heart and my head – and I allowed myself room to feel what I wanted and I was pleasantly surprised when my primary emotion was a happy one. I felt sad remembering what I had endured the year prior – but again, mostly gratitude for not having to experience it again that day. This year is totally different. I wouldn’t trade being home with my family for the world – but I am finding myself desperate to be back in that hospital bed just for even a minute and feel my sons move. Maybe if I went back in time – there would be a new direction, a new way to save them, new medicine, new doctors, new opinions. And even if not – maybe I could just hold my belly and tell them over and over how much I love them – in case I didn’t say it enough. And that’s why I summed up all those feelings into one word: weird. I can’t believe I would ever wish that moment back into my life – yet the further I get from it, the more I want it back. I know if I dig deeper and look at it from my therapist’s chair – it just means I am desperate for connection back to my two boys. To feel them – spiritually, physically, literally. But I try – I look for signs. I pray to them. I talk to them. I celebrate their lives. I decorate their graves. I dream of them. I sleep with the very blankets I held them in. But nothing compares to feeling their life inside of me. Nothing.
My memories of Thanksgiving week two years ago are so vivid and yet so random. I can remember the sound of my hospital door opening at all hours of the night with the new on duty nurse or resident coming in to check on my babies. I remember the look on Mac’s face as the priest blessed my belly the morning of Thanksgiving – preparing our babies for eternal life. I remember the brave face I had to put on every time I knew Riley would be walking in through the door. I remember being wheeled into the hospital from the heartbreaking doctors appointment when we found out our boys were dying – and panicking to dial Dr. N. We reminisced about this phone call during our session on Saturday because she said she can still remember exactly where she was at when she answered that call. I remember reciting an email she sent me (copied below) over and over and over to my stomach in hopes that I was doing the right thing for babies that would soon be leaving me.
“Oh sweet Sara. I am so sorry for all the painful news you are having to bear. It truly is too much for one soul to take in. It only makes sense that you would be feeling so overwhelmed with the prognosis for your precious twins. I wish I could jet across the miles and give you a giant hug and cry with you. There is nothing that will change this pain, only the support of those around you to help you endure it.
I know the most impossible task is going to be saying good-bye to your twins. But, I strongly encourage you and Mac to try and do so. Take time alone to talk to the twins, comfort them as only parents can do in their last few days. There’s so much they need to know about their short lives. And there is so much they need to know about how much their mommy and daddy loved and wanted them desperately.
Here are just a few things I hope you will share with them:
– how hard you fought to get them here, the surgeries, the IVF cycle, and how hard you know they fought to be here… you all showed those around you (including me) what true strength is.
– how scared you were to find out you were having them…and the immense courage you showed in opening your hearts and minds to them.
– how you fought to find the perfect doctor for them, after a few shall we say duds.
– the thrill and excitement you felt when you saw their tiny heartbeats. how real the whole thing became for you.
-how you began to make life decisions to support their lives… the minivan, putting a pause on your career, getting things in three, Mac’s career
– the ups and downs of their appointments, the fear and hope you had to simultaneously hold for each new appointment
-the immense grief you feel at not being able to hold them, nurture them, and raise them.
-the hope you hold for seeing them again in heaven/afterlife
Perhaps you and Mac could sit and recall to the twins some of these (and other) milestones in their short lives that you want them to know? I know each loss is different, but for me, one of the hardest things was not being able to say good-bye before our baby passed. I hope you are able to find strength to do so… I think it will give you peace later on.
Sara, your grief will come in waves and when it does it is likely to be very intense. I want you to command yourself during those times to “just breathe”… remind yourself that the pain is intense and overwhelming, but it won’t always feel like that. You will get through this, and you will come out with more compassion and strength than you ever thought possible. I also want you to give yourself time to just zone out and not obsess. Try to postpone thinking about things for an hour or even a half-an-hour. Also, remind yourself of what the priorities are to focus on right now… your health and the health of baby C. Let all other worries wait… you don’t have to figure out everything right now. Just focus on the priorites.
If friends/family ask you what they can do… here are a few suggestions:
1. Set up a schedule for Riley to regularly visit you.
2. Bring you magazines, movies, games or other distractions
3. Download a relaxation app on your Iphone and listen to often and definitely before bed
4. Ask someone to go to your house and box up baby stuff so you don’t have to deal with that when you get home.
I remember forwarding that email to my sisters and close family – and it was helpful for them to understand some of the things my head was trying to wrap around. I still can’t read it – to this day – without balling. So it’s insane to me that I want to go back in time and sit in this moment – but I really do. I am silently (and I guess publicly) begging for it back.
But I’m no idiot and I know life must move forward – as it has the past two years. I have worked effortlessly to add good into my life and I’m hopeful that when I wake up tomorrow, my mind can focus on what I am thankful for. Because I do have a lot – some of the very things people around me are praying for. A family – a home – two healthy children – an amazing, fulfilling career – and some of the best friends a person could find. Those are the things that get me out of bed each day – and allow me to march forward, wipe away the tears, and be a better ‘me’. Lastly – Dr. N reminded me that my life, though more painful, is fuller having gone through my experience so I will end this with my thanksgiving to two deserving angels. I am thankful today and everyday that I was chosen to be their mom. They have given me a better perspective on life and allowed me to have deeper relationships, deeper love, and deeper understanding. I am thankful. I am grateful.
And I’m buckled the f@ck up : )
The Madness Between 