Another day!

Well, it is technically Wednesday, so if I post now, I'm off the hook until tomorrow. Sounds good to me.

When Hubby and I got married we knew that we wanted children. How many, at least 2, maybe more, but we'd play it by ear after the second. We agreed to wait until we had been married 5 years to begin a family. I had a cousin who had done this, and it seemed like a great way to get to know each other, be spontaneous, get some things out of the way as a couple, before we devoted ourselves to our children. There's a saying that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans, and boy did he have a chuckle at our expense.

We married in April of '93, and in February of '94 Hubby and his father fell off of a roof while building a house. I was FRANTIC when I received the call at work. Turns out my Father-in-law, hereby known as FIL, slipped earlier in the day, and Hubby was able to catch him without incident. But, they weren't so lucky the second time. FIL started to fall, Hubby tried to be Superman and attempted to catch him. NO SUCH LUCK! So, they both tumbled 20 ft down to the ground and landed on top of some chunks of concrete that were in the sand. Hubby thinks FIL is having a heart attack, he yells at his brother to call 911, attempts to stand and is instantly back on the ground. When ambulance gets there, they take him to the hospital, with my MIL taking my FIL behind them. Both are treated, but FIL is fine. Seems that Hubby broke his fall and his chest pains were from bruised ribs due to landing on Hubby's knee. OUCH! Hubby on the other hand, has crushed a vertebrae and is hospitalized for a few days and out of work for a little over a month. We were told that he was very lucky that the break happened where it did, and that the bone fragments went outwards, instead of up and down. Otherwise, he could have been paralyzed, lost function of the old boy parts, etc. Well, we took that as a sign that life is too short for us to wait, and we weren't getting any younger. So, after he was released from the Dr's care in April, we began trying. By the middle of August, SUCCESS!

We were over the moon! But, after Hubby's brother & wife having 2 children with birth defects, and a cousin's child having problems, we were very cautious and concerned. Pregnancy was a piece of cake, no real problems other than weight gain, lost my ankles and feeling like I had an ALIEN inside of my trying to kick his way out. LOL And my father passed away, suddenly, when I was almost 7 months. Not exactly a way to ensure a stress free pregnancy. Giving birth to him wasn't so easy, and we had a little scare after he was born, but in perspective, it was no big deal. So, we decided that 3 years was a good gap between kids, and when J was a little over 2, we started trying again.

"Crickets chirping"

NOTHING! Finally in August of 2004, TEN years after getting pregnant with J, I finally get a positive on the pregnancy test! I was ELATED! GIDDY! Crazy happy. Hubby was working close by, and the preg test said the results would fade before Hubby was to be home. So, I drove over there with the test and showed him. He was excited too, but a little more practical than me. He wanted to know if I was sure. I told him I took 2 tests, and both said yes. I immediately called EVERYONE that I knew. I scheduled an appointment with my OB/GYN and was on Cloud 9 1/2. Went to appointment, and since I have always been so irregular, she decided to do an ultrasound to get better idea of how far along I was. Couldn't find anything on traditional, so they did a vaginal. Not very pleasant, but it was great to confirm there was indeed a teeny tiny baby in there. Not only that, there were 2!!!!!!!! One didn't seem as developed as the other, but tech said it was more than likely because it was so early. But, it could be that it stopped developing and was being reabsorbed. I was shocked. TWINS! Thought it was God's way of rewarding me for having to wait so long. Ever practical Hubby, said we should just count on 1 until I'm a little further along, and have another ultrasound. So, we planned for 1, and I hoped for 2. Not that I wouldn't have been happy with 1, cause the thought of 1 made me crazy happy, but the thought of 2 seemed to make up for all the false alarms and disappointment every time I thought I was pregnant and dear, sweet Aunt Flo would find me yet again.

Things were going great. I shopped. I called a Sister-in-law, who had recently had a baby. We made plans to get some of her baby things. I shopped some more. Mostly clearance racks, and a great consignment shop near me. I planned for J's 10th b-day. We typically had a party at the house, but I thought since it was the BIG 1-0, and to try to take some of the focus off of the new baby(babies) we would do something different. Maybe bowling, or skating. Baby(ies) were due end of April, and J's b-day is end of May. I had it all figured out. I had the nursery planned, painted and decorated in my head. I had registered with Wally World, Babies R Us and Target. I was glowing! So freaking happy I thought I would burst. And then...

I started bleeding a little. I went to the Dr, they did another ultrasound. The second baby was in fact not viable, but the first baby was looking good. Good heart beat, looked good. Dr said bleeding was more than likely because of second baby being "aborted", go home, rest, put my feet up and no heavy lifting. No problem. If it meant saving the first baby, I would permanently retire to my bed. We are good friends all ready, so I didn't see a problem. Well, bleeding continues, went back to Dr. Sono tech had all ready left, so Dr sends me to hospital for ultrasound. They again have to do vaginal, and the tech took FOREVER and never tried to reassure me by showing me the baby, so it was pretty obvious that this baby was gone too. I couldn't stop crying.

I'm kind of odd, and didn't want anyone with me, so I drove to Dr/hospital alone. I sat in waiting room after sono, WAITING for the Dr, but all ready knowing the answer. I was a wreck. Dr finally comes in, tells me what I all ready know, and then tells me that "the good news is, we know you can get pregnant." WHAT??? Is that supposed to be reassuring? This wasn't my regular doc, but I had seen him the first time I went in for bleeding. Needless to say, he didn't make me feel any better. Gave me a prescription for pain pills, told me that I would be in a lot of pain until and when the "baby" passes. Get some rest, yada, yada, yada.

So I called Hubby and broke the news to him, tried to regain my composure long enough to drive the 20 minutes home, went home and cried my eyes out. The pain was horrific at time, and I think it was only intensified due to the pain in my heart.

For weeks, I cried myself to sleep, usually clutching a stuffed giraffe that played "Twinkle, Twinkle" that I had bought for nursery. It was so hard seeing people, talking to people, because the first thing they would ask was "How's the baby?" I got sadder and sadder, each time I had to tell someone. I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces and every time I had to tell someone, I would relive the nightmare of my final days of pregnancy.

I eventually cleaned out the drawers that had all the baby's things in it and put it in storage. I couldn't bear to have it around as a reminder. I ached every time I would see a pregnant woman. Every time I would see a news story about a baby being found in a dumpster, a baby being killed by it's parent. I wanted to scream! How could God let these people have babies if they were just going to throw them away, kill them, abuse them, neglect them, and not let us have another child? A stable home, with 2 loving parents, grandparents that would spoil any baby rotten, a great big brother? I was so confused.

It was so hard to be happy for someone when they told me they were pregnant. I was jealous, envious, angry, sad, you name it.

Thing is, other people seem to forget. As time grows, memories fade. I'm not one of those people. I think about my babies EVERY day. I know that they would be 4 years and 3 months right now. An exact age is hard to pinpoint, but I was originally told late April for a due date. Even though Hubby and I have never really discussed it, they have names. Since I never found out genders and since I lost both of them, I consider them twins. And to be fair, they were fraternal. Molly Isabella and Walker Benjamin. Hubby and I had discussed the first names, and since we didn't get a chance to find out gender, my SIL and I referred to them as Molly-Walker, making sure we covered all bases. Every August, I get weepy. It's really not a good month. And it is quickly approaching. It used to be great. My b-day is the 14th, my father's is the 22nd and I conceived J in August. TMI, I know, but it is what it is. LOL Now, I think about my dad, and I think about the babies. I miscarried in September, so that month sucks too. And I think about them in April, realizing that they would be "this many" years old.

I think other people would think about it more, if we had a child that had died, or if my pregnancy was closer to term. But most people don't seem to realize the impact a miscarriage has. Even though that baby wasn't born, it doesn't mean I hadn't all ready given it my heart. It is still a loss, and it still hurts.

Last year I kept my cousin's baby for her. She is young, single and wasn't really ready to be a mom. She had moved back here and was staying with her grandparents (my aunt and uncle) and my aunt was in the hospital fighting for her life. I kept him a few odd times here and there, just so his mom could have a break. He was about 10 months old at the time, and I was in love! My aunt lost her battle with cancer on J's b-day, May 29th. I took the baby home with me, so his mom could help with arrangements, etc. I kept him until the funeral, and then I kept him off and on over the summer, with each stay getting longer. There even talks about us keeping him, either temporarily for a couple of years, or permanently. I tried not to get my hopes up, because I didn't want to get hurt again. But, I'm not programmed that way apparently. So, I was head over heals in love with this child and was all ready clearing out the office and transforming it into a nursery in my mind. I was there when he took his first steps. His mother didn't care. But, his mom ultimately wasn't the boss because even though she gave birth to him, her grandfather was paying for everything and he and her mother made the decisions. I get it that they wanted him to be with more direct family. But there was a part of me that was soooo pissed off. My cousin (the baby's grandmother) all ready complained about raising her son, who was around 11. She didn't raise her first 2 (the baby's mom), her parents did. It was just frustrating, and I felt so used. Not by my uncle or the baby's grandmother, cause they just were doing what was best in the long run. But sooo used by his mother. She played upon my weakness for babies. My desire to have another little on in our home. We were all sooo in love with that kid it wasn't funny. He had been with us off and on from May to December. And it wasn't like we just watched him for the day during that time. He would be with us for a week or 2, sometimes 3. It was impossible to NOT get attached. He was a great kid, so loving, funny. When I still thought there was a chance that we were going to get to keep him, I got out a few of the babies things for him to use. A blanket, a stuffed lion, a stuffed elephant and the stuffed musical giraffe. He got rather attached to the blanket, and would always grab it when I took him out of the playpen after a nap or in the morning. He like to cuddle right after he woke up, so we would cuddle with the blankie. It hurt, knowing that those items were supposed to be for Molly and Walker, but it also brought me joy that we had a baby in the house that was getting use and pleasure out of them. Some things that were packed away for Molly and Walker were sold at a yard sale. But these items were not sentimental; bottles, sleep positioner, some used clothes. Sentimental items such as the stuffies and the blankie were kept. I couldn't part with them, and may never be able to.

After he left for good in December, I couldn't stand seeing the house with toys everywhere. There were so many reminder of him that it broke my heart every time I would see his favorite toys, or find one of his bottles. I packed everything away, but I couldn't pack away the little lion, his favorite of the stuffies. Hubby was gone alot during that summer, and I got so lonely and sad, that I started sleeping with the little lion, often crying myself to sleep thinking about Molly, Walker and Little Man.

I still sleep with the lion, and I kiss it's head 4 times before I go to sleep. One for Molly. One for Walker. One for Little Man. And one for J, just cause I love him so much. Maybe I'm weak. Maybe I should just let go. Maybe I'm a big baby. Label me however you choose. I feel like connected to them when I drift off to sleep holding that sweet little lion. And since it's the only connection I have, I don't have any plans to pack the lion away any time soon.

With August approaching, I have all ready been a little blue. But last night, I was checking out some blogs that had recently won some awards. I stumbled on one, that made mention of two little boys. Upon further reading, I found out the author of the blog was referring to her twins that she lost at 17 weeks. It just hit me like a ton of bricks. The more I read, the more I cried. Some of the feelings she wrote about where like reading my own unwritten journal. So, I cried myself to sleep last night, and after going over everything again, I'll probably do the same tonight.

Later.

Molly, Walker, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about you. Wonder what you would have looked like. Would you look like your daddy, like J, or me? Would you have the Gregory blue eyes, or would my brown eyes stare back at me? Would you have been like your cousins, and been total opposites, brown hair and brown eyes for her, and blond hair and blue eyes for him? Who was older? Would Molly be a tom-girl, playing in the dirt and wanting to help daddy build houses? Or would she be a prissy girly girl? Would you be excited thinking about going to school? Which one of you said Mama first? So many questions, so many possibilities. I love you from the very bottom of my heart, and even though I never got to hold you, I hold you in my heart each and every day. Good night my angels.