I have neglected this blog for quite some time. 6 months to be exact. I haven’t felt ready to write or share or reflect as I have been on an enormously challenging journey to finding myself again. Shortly after the triplets birthday in January – my therapist asked me what I see my future looking like. What’s on my bucket list? What do I want to focus on this year? What do the next 3, 5, 10, 15 years look like? I sat there stumped as if it was the first time anyone had ever asked me the question. My stomach instantly sank and the only truthful answer I could find was “I want to be able to feel complete. I want to be able to know one way or other that my family is complete”. While I assume most people fill up their bucket lists with career goals, vacation plans, adventures, and personal achievements – I could not conger up anything other than some sort of resolve with my ‘story’. To feel some sort of peace with my past – and contentment with the future. To stop resenting myself and my body – and to learn to love myself again. Although these are solid personal goals – I soon realized that the answer was disappointing to professional ears. I could not think of one thing outside of ‘healing’ that I wanted to accomplish over potential decades. I was challenged to think about who I used to be before all of this? What were some of my passions? Being a mother and wife is obviously top on my list – but I used to love to bake, to workout, to create and draw and paint, to spend time with friends, to read books, to self-care. When I created this list – majority of these items were no longer a part of my life.
For the past 6 months I have re-introduced myself to the old ‘me’ – little by little. I bought some new watercolor paints and brushes – and created a piece of artwork for our upstairs landing. I try to read almost every night before bed – some books mindless thrillers and others self-help. I have built the most amazing group of friends – rid myself of any toxicity – and have found great happiness in the company of so many. I bake weekly – and I can proudly say that both Riley and Tommy can crack an egg like a pro : ) Mac and I attend bi-weekly marital counseling to stay on task with bettering our marriage. I have been eating healthier, making doctors appointments, tackling tough issues each week in therapy and trying to maintain strong self-awareness. While these goals may seem easy for some – they weren’t necessarily for me and I felt a sense of achievement each time I could check off an item.
What I struggled with the most however, was if I continue down this path of positivity and self-care – does that mean I accept losing Ollie and Grey, and forgive myself? I never looked to the future and assumed I would spend it crying, mourning, and remaining stagnant. I prayed for healing. I prayed to find happiness. But in my mind – finding happiness means moving on from grief. How do I connect to my two boys in heaven through any avenue other than sadness and trauma? I don’t have a single memory of them that isn’t tied to sadness and trauma. So if I attempt to remove the sadness and trauma – and focus on happiness – how do I feel connected to them? I’ve tried to turn this obstacle into opportunity by offering free hospital shoots for baby loss, NICU babies, and terminal illness. I go to the cemetery several times a month and decorate my boys’ grave as if it’s their special little home away from home. Along with falling into bed crying – I have always thought these gestures were my way of connecting with them. Of showing my devotion and love and making their story known. It wasn’t until I had this exact conversation with Dr. N that I realized these gestures are still connected through trauma. Photographing a stillborn as a way of connecting to my twin boys is healing – but traumatizing. Going to the cemetery can be peaceful and beautiful – but I never leave without a complete stomachache. I will continue doing these things for the rest of my life – but Dr. N challenged me to somehow discover a POSITIVE connection to my boys. I didn’t think it was possible and I certainly didn’t know how.
One of my biggest struggles throughout the years of infertility, fertility treatments, surgery, doctors appointments, and my triplet pregnancy – was my relationship with my body. I am fortunate that in terms of clothing size and mirror reflection – I have a decent metabolism and the ability to ‘heal’ quickly. But in terms of my emotional / mental relationship with my physical self – it’s toxic. I am resentful at how many times it failed me and yet at the same time I worship it as the only ‘physical connection’ I have to the children that were taken from me. Even though majority of my abdominal scars have healed – I have had a hard time wearing a bikini because I don’t want to expose the only place my boys’ hearts beat. I have obvious issues with intimacy. I haven’t wanted to workout and use my body for strength – because I don’t view it as strong. And as many times as Dr. N tries to convince me otherwise – I usually sit in her office, on the couch, with my arms crossed and protecting my stomach. She tells me to thank my body for bringing two beautiful children to this world, for enduring over 7 surgeries, for keeping me alive – yet it falls on deaf ears. I wasn’t ready to forgive myself.
However – in May, a group of my friends decided to join a 6 week fitness challenge at our local studio and they asked if I wanted in. The challenge was partner based so you had accountability – and it came with a fitness plan, diet goals, and a daily point tracker. Just the concept of this went against every grain in my body but I tend to have serious FOMO so I decided to sign up. I had never attended a class at Rise before and to say I was intimidated was an understatement. It had been years since I had endured any type of cardio, balance, or strength training and here I was committing to a 6 week challenge – with a full trunk full of physical / mental / emotional baggage.
But I can now hardly even write about it without fully breaking down into tears. I started that first class feeling resentful and annoyed that I let my friends convince me into working out when I wasn’t ready to use my body in that sense. When we first laid on a mat to do abdominal work – I started to cry. Not only at the shock of how weak my core was but because I was slowly using that ‘sacred space’ for a different purpose. Yet, I came back the next day, and the next, and the next. The challenge is over – and I haven’t stopped attending Rise classes. I am there 3 – 4 times a week and the days that I am not – I am craving it. The reason isn’t because of my physical appearance or whether or not I can hold a plank. It’s because I can’t get through a single class without my eyes welling up with tears as I have finally found my positive connection to my angel babies. I feel their presence. I devote each class to them. I talk to them during the hardest interval sets and tell them I am trying to be better, stronger, and happier. For the first time in years, I WANT to live a longer, healthier life. I want to take care of myself and I can actually say that I am slowly forgiving my body for what it did not provide – and appreciating it for surviving the trauma.
Ironically – one of my favorite instructors at Rise (Carin) likes to end her class with us ‘thanking our bodies’. The first time she made the request – I felt like I was being pranked by my therapist and she had switched out the mic. I sat there quietly as I heard everyone else around me openly thanking their bodies – but it felt too big of a statement for me. I have since joined the masses in showing gratitude and I pray to continue down this path in hopes of making two little boys very proud.
The Madness Between 