Abnormal

"C's baby is 12 pounds. She's huge. Can you imagine holding a 12 pound baby?" said L.

No, I can't. Can you imagine holding a 1 lb. 7 oz. baby? How about a dead baby? I thought.

"Wow, her arms must be huge," said L as she burped her son, a mere 5 weeks old.

As I'm thinking about this conversation I had (ok, obsessing at this point) a week ago, I remember at the time telling myself that she didn't mean to be so clueless, that she didn't have malicious intent. All the same, should I have taken the opportunity to help her put her foot in her mouth?

At the lunch today for J who is moving on to greener pastures, R across from me asks the other J, "So how old are your twins now?" J holds up five fingers while masticating rice and beans. R's question to J has nothing to do with me, yes I realize this. And yet it does. (How old are my twins? What is the sign for dead?)

To close: Ev.ite from a long lost women's networking group. Alas, a breakfast and hike in August. What a joy to read that the first three "I'll be there" responses were from women who were expecting little ones in August! Simply delightful! I responded that aw shucks, it was just too far for me.


This is my life, for the rest of my life. Nothing is normal. My identity is wrapped around the deaths of my twins, two sweet babies who were very much loved and very much wanted. I will always "listen" on eggshells and take innocuous and shove it.

Saved

We rescued a puppy for Father's Day/Wannabe Dad's birthday. I also got him (hubby, not the dog) a silver urn pendant to hold a few strands of his girls' hair, to hold close to his heart. (I would post a picture but he's self-conscious about the chest hair. I find his chest hair yummy.) As is our usual Sunday routine, we went to the cemetery. Then to lunch with my aunt and uncle. Then to the shelter with my cousin and her hubby. Not what we planned for Father's Day, but it happened to work out in the end. Except for the whole sleeping thing.

We're told he's an Australian Shepherd/Border Collie mix. If you see other breeds in there (hmmm...bat?), do let me know. I'm taking votes. He's 6 months old, very happy, and gets bored easily. We are crate training. Hubby and I watch Th.e D.og Whis.perer for inspiration.

Yesterday marked 7 months since our girls died. We have been busy with the dog, watering the banana tree, harvesting tomatoes, working the home business. I was mad at myself for remembering the monthaversary at the very end of the day right before I went to bed. But -- I thought of my girls all weekend while we were at Rel.ay fo.r Li.fe. I had never attended it before, and the opening ceremonies + Lu.minaria cracked me right open: raw, weeping, feeling.

Rambleday

The certificates printed, the thank-yous written, the envelopes sealed. Then I discover: the certificate is missing a word. A very important word. A word that completes the name of the workshop I gave on Tuesday. My eyes bulge. Expletives fly. Carefully open envelopes, remove error-filled certificates and recycle, reprint new error-free certificates, resign and restuff, locate glue stick and reseal. No big, I've been through worse.

***

Now that the banana tree is pregnant, I am giving it more care. I'm watering it daily (100 degrees the last few days), talking to it, petting it. Ok, I'm not talking to or petting it. A silly thought flashed in my head as I was watering it the other day: take care of this tree, because it is giving fruit.

***

Before my FIL moved out of wannabe dad's childhood home, we had a chance to dig up some of my MIL's roses (she passed away 21 years ago when wannabe dad was a teen). I was able to keep two plants alive for about 2 years in a pot, dutifully watering, spraying for buggies, clipping spent blooms in the right place, even moving them to our new home. Long rambling story short, they are poof! Dried up. So in my feeble attempt to right the wrong, I bought a replacement which I will plant tomorrow morning before he wakes up. It will be in his view out of the home office window. Tomorrow is his birthday.

***

I was in the card section at the local Tget. Since there have been lots of babies born in my circle, and I'm sure more that I don't yet know of, I was planning to stock up on cards.

I couldn't go through with it. I'll send greetings hopefully before they graduate from high school.

***

Speaking of graduation, our nephew graduated from high school last weekend. Something our girls will never do. So unfair.

***

I found a local support group for moms who have lost children. The other moms lost teenagers. A tragedy for sure, but I couldn't relate. Sigh.

***

"So how's the new mommy?" co-worker asks
Holy crapoly. "What?"
"You had twins, right?"
"Ummm...nobody told you?"
"No, what...?"
"They...they died. Nobody tells you anything, huh."
"No. I'm so sorry. Omigosh. I have kids. I can't imagine. I am so sorry."
"Thank you."

I held it together until I turned around to walk back to my desk. When everything was happening last year, looking back on it now, I actually felt ashamed that my babies died! Completely irrational, I know, but I didn't want to be whispered about. I asked that my email only be forwarded to people I actually knew and well, liked. Didn't matter, some of those who I like have not greeted me since my return in March. Blame it on uncomfortable, but I don't like them anymore.

***

I finished that book. It was comforting. I bought two copies, one for me, one for another person (no one in particular, though I handed it to my mom and she couldn't even open the cover for fear of crying) who I want to understand where I'm coming from. Wannabe dad is reading the section for Fathers, at least. I hope he finds some comfort too.

***

It seems a job promotion is on hold as long as I'm part time. Dangling the carrot are we? A career at this company is non-existent in both of our minds anyway. My long-term goal is to be a mommy.

***

My mom and her siblings are finally making arrangements for my 94-year-old gramma, who is in a care home after falling last October. I don't know if she knows what happened with the twins. No one wanted to upset her. They'll be waiting for her, but they might wait a while because their great-gramma is a fighter on a feeding tube! The good news is that she will be in a spot that's a stone's throw away from the girls.

***

"Do.es A.ge Ma.tter"? Who comes up with these inane shows? He hurts my eyes.

Counter

As the counter adds days and weeks and months to the day that we lost our twins, I sometimes think the ticking of time would indicate some improvement in my grief.

Memememe

Apologies for my lack of timeliness in this meme, as I was tagged by Julia weeks (and weeks and weeks) ago. I actually started one (and it was good), but it is forever lost in cyberspace. Here’s a second attempt at the “I am.”

I am thankful that friends who are newly pregnant have the sensitivity to temper the good news when letting me know.

I am looking forward to the moment in my heart when TTC will be a go for us.

I am excited about the budding bananas and toppling tomatoes in my backyard that will eventually make their way into my belly.

I am finally reading “Emp.ty Cr.adle, Broke.n H.eart”. Each night before I go to bed I read a few pages and it’s been helpful.

I am still finding it difficult to be around newborns and see pregnant women and pregnant banana trees.

I am procrastinating on practicing for a marketing presentation I am giving this Tuesday, because a sensitive friend called me to tell me her news. I am happy for her, but not feeling happy right now.

I am married to the greatest husband ever.

I am looking forward to the day when I can answer the question “Do you have kids?” without looking like a deer in headlights.

I am hoping that in 7 years my kitty will become a lap cat. Fat chance.

I am missing the old me.

I am wondering if I’ll die without having children. The thought gives me chills.

RIMBY

Even the banana tree is pregnant.

Installed

Below the flowers reads "our beloved babies". The footprints are carved at the exact size, Nadia's at 1 7/8" inches and Cerina's at 1 3/4". The footprints are rough to the touch.

The marker was installed the Thursday after Mother's Day. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel upon seeing it the following Sunday, but I turned out to not be a wallowing mess (I save those for random moments). I think the marker is beautiful, a fitting tribute to our beautiful girls.

When our kitty Elvis died in April '06, my co-workers gave me a gerbera daisy plant with dark orange flowers. I planted it in the yard in the view of his favorite window spot and it is still doing well despite the record-breaking temperatures of the past winter and summer. The bouquet I picked up for the girls had two gerbera daisies, and since we never thought of our girls as pinky, these seemed to represent them well.

The Papa and the Mama miss you and love you both so much! Please visit us tonight in our dreams.

*Edited to fix the line spacing. I couldn't stand it.