Extraordinary

For anyone else, Saturday was just that, an ordinary Saturday.

But in our house, Saturday November 24th marked one year that our sweet baby girls passed away.

And because we wanted people to remember them, we had people over. But first, we had them meet us at the cemetery. For just an hour, to pay their respects, to remind themselves how they should have called us more often to let us know they were thinking of us, to remind themselves that the babies were real and that our wild mood swings in the last year were because of something monumental.

And we shared our thoughts. We thanked them for coming, mostly relatives and very few close friends, and we explained that it meant a lot for us that they were here today. We told them that we visit the girls every single weekend. We still think about them all the time. You probably haven't seen much of us this last year, and that's because it's so difficult. We don't know how to feel, but we feel better when we're not around people who tell us to "get over it", and we missed your birthdays and other events you thought were important not because we don't care about you, but because we didn't have anything left.

Or something like that. But it was all said very nicely.

And back in February we were interviewed for a local magazine. That magazine went out of business for a spell but now it is back, and the article will be printed next year. Our dear cousin read our early copy to the crowd. It explained how we were frustrated with making other people feel comfortable with our grief. It detailed our annoyance with platitudes that start with G and end with the word "plan." It spoke of our disdain for malls and parks and anywhere outside of our home where newborns and pg women lurk. It chronicled my long days of bedrest and the babies' birth and their condition, and their death.

And the gathering sighed. They cried. They had no idea what we went through, as only a few people asked us specifically what happened. They lamented their bad behavior in the last year. They thought we wanted to be left alone.

It's true, we did.

But a simple "I'm thinking of you and I'm bringing you a funny movie" would have been nice. And inviting us to an aunt's birthday dinner and letting us know that the other cousin and new baby were coming too and letting us decide whether we would attend or not, would have been really, really over the top nice.

And mostly they understood a little bit more of where we were coming from, and thanked us for sharing our story.

And then we came back to our house for lunch.

And we went to bed happy, in a way, because we got through the first year, and we unloaded many pent up feelings to people who love us. Hopefully those who got the message will be able to be better friends and relatives to others who experience such a tragic loss.

Happy (for lack of a better word) Anniversary, Cerina and Nadia. Your Papa and I love you very much, and there are lots of people thinking of you and remembering you too. We'll never let them forget your short lives and how you changed ours.

Cerina & Nadia's 1st birthday cake