Pants

Every Wednesday morning I stumble through my closet for pants. My pickings are slim because you see, the pants should actually fit. They used to prior to pregnancy. Most weeks I've gotten by with black Ba.nana Rep.ublic slacks with a side zipper...zipped halfway. Then I strategically locate a top that's long enough to cover said halfway zipped zipper so I don't run into my business meeting looking half-dressed. And it's been working, and I haven't worn the same thing twice.

But it's only been 5 weeks.

Why don't I just buy some damn pants, you ask? In my newfound normal life brought on by the passing of my dear little girls, I have convinced myself and wannabe dad that we should make less of an environmental impact on this planet by getting on the compact bandwagon (hell, we'll save some money too). While not an original thought, getting people to actually do it is an entirely different thing. And this group of peeps did and still are.

Some of my friends laughed (as in laughed at me), some embraced, some smiled like Jerry smiles at Kramer when he has yet another scheme under his sleeve. While I am the last person to rag on the big GW, where I live there isn't a good Goodwill or a decent consignment store where I can buy anything that would be suitable to wear to a business meeting. I am, however, going to be in San Francisco this weekend (it's our 2 year anniversary!) and will hit every gd Goodwill and Buffalo Exchange to find some damn pants.

Happy Anniversary!

Curious

Go.ogle has all the answers. This isn't a testimonial by any means, but I have to say that I use it to find everything. At work I use it to find out information on the competition, what the latest and greatest trends are in [insert industry here] (which takes some ingenious keyword searches that are typically outside of my IQ), get the latest about how Anna Nicole died, how to get there from here, get information on something I want to buy, where my name is mentioned in cyberland.

And where to find the parents of the child buried next to my twins.

Flowers for baby boy C showed up a week after we buried our girls. We didn't recognize these flowers since the folks from the funeral home brought all the flowers with them to the cemetery. There was a blue bow which indicated it was for a boy.

Angel watching over our babies

Finally, a month and a half later a temporary name plate appeared with baby boy C's name. I was so saddened that another baby died. I thought of the parents and how they were going through the same grief that we were. They probably felt numb and out of place in this world like we did. Our children died and we were left to pick up the pieces of a life that used to be normal.

So I found out their names. We live in the same town. I know what college the mother went to and that the parents are engaged. Now what? I won't show up on their doorstep. I won't send them a letter to introduce myself and wannabe dad. ("Hi, our children are buried next to each other, wanna hang out?") What I will do is think of them, pray that they can make some sense of this madness, and support each other during this incredibly challenging time in their lives.

It's a good thing I'm not a stalker.

Tres

It was our third session together. The first time, it was me and wannabe dad. The second time it was just me. Today's session was again just me. All of these sessions were 1 week apart. I must be fixed because we didn't have much to talk about. Instead, there were uncomfortable silences, polite smiling, even staring contests. At some point I asked her, "now what?"

We decided to see a grief counselor "just because" it seemed like the right thing to do. I have met with this counselor three times but I don't know what she can help me with. Although I am sad, I don't feel depressed. When we go to the cemetery on Sundays, I stand at Cerina & Nadia's grave and talk to them, and I don't cry. I look at the scrapbook I made probably once a week, and I don't cry. I think about them every minute of the day, and I don't cry. I talk to the insurance company and the Social Security office (the cards have not yet arrived >:< ) and I don't cry. People have asked us if we have children, and we always say we had two daughters who were born premature and passed away. Not once have I cried during these explanations. Last night I dreamed about Nadia surviving and when I woke up I felt happy that I at least dreamed about my girls.

Our next appointment is two weeks from now. I might just cancel it. Or maybe she's not the right one for me? Or I'm equating tears with needing help?

I admit that I am dreading going back to work on 3/7 and running into someone who God forbid doesn't know what happened. After I give a look of shock and dread, the tears just might come.

P.S. Yoga is still going strong.

Uttanasana

I remember pre-husband and pre-new house in the boonies I was heavily into yoga. I loved yoga. My body needed yoga. I used to stay at work late 3 days a week so I could catch the early evening class. I remember breakthrough (uttanasana - standing forward bend) after breakthrough (chaturanga dandasana - four-limbed staff pose) after breakthrough (paschimottanasana - seated forward bend) each time I went to a class. I mainly practiced hatha yoga, which was the yoga of choice at my gym. But oh, the entrancing heat of bikram and the rhythmic flow of vinyasa which I indulged in from time to time. Heaven!

My regular attendance slowly gave way to the following, not in any particular order:

1. wanting to get home at a decent hour - class would be over by 8:30 which would get me home at 9:30
2. wanting to have dinner with wannabe dad
3. wanting to spend time with wannabe dad
4. wanting to sleep in with wannabe dad (hence skipping weekend a.m. class)
5. not being ready to switch to another gym 1/2 mile from my house
6. in other words, being chickenpoo
7. the new gym's yoga classes weren't at the "right time"
8. in other words, being chickenshit
9. being too tired (especially when I was pregnant)

After 2 years, today was my first class at the new gym. It was so amazing, and my body missed it. I remembered most of the poses and did some with modifications (vasisthasana - side plank, on one knee). But I'll be back in form, and my soft parts will be firm again. And I'm taking my ego out of it by not focusing on how long it's going to take to get back, or I'll jinx it and end up not going back. I look forward to experiencing my previous breakthroughs and getting to know some new ones. I hope that in the process of getting centered and finding my balance, my broken heart will begin to heal.