The Twins Baby Shower- Ch. 6 The Third Trimester

There are many things about my pregnancy and birth of the twins, and their lives in the hospital, that I never really processed because I had babies that needed feeding and a 2 year old that needed me to keep it together.  Sometimes I wish I had seen a counselor (if I had the time or energy) to cry and be real about how I really felt deep inside.  I was a zombie.  Sleep deprivation is a big factor but so was trauma.
You know how when something is really upsetting sometimes you wait till you get home to cry.  Well, I never got home.
I held it all in for that glorious day- that heavenly and triumphant day when my two babies were with me out of the hospital sitting on the couch together.  I was going to cry and cry with joy that now I could stop being afraid and sad.  I would be whole again.
But that day never came and many compartments of that box never got opened.  Reading this book has opened another compartment.  The day of the twins' diaper shower.
It was like there was this horrible elephant in the room.  I don't know if anyone else felt it or not.  My sister and friends asked me many times if I even wanted to still have the shower, since I was supposed to still be pregnant, but the babies were at the hospital instead.
I felt that I could use a little celebration.  I mean, there was something to celebrate, right?  My babies were born!  That's a congratulations, right?  We had pictures of the babies going in a slide show, and we oogled all the adorable little twin clothes.  The only reason I wanted a shower (since it was my second pregnancy anyway) was that I was super-stressed about double diapers.  I was hoping a nice big stack of diapers would make me feel a little bit more ready  to handle them.
I was terrified of taking care of two babies since the day of the ultrasound.  Then when they were born early and I knew I was going to be pumping around the clock in addition to caring for two newborns who needed extra care, I was really terrified.
So here I was looking for some encouragement from friends and family to get me through the most difficult thing I had ever delt with.  The problem is, what do you say to someone with twins in the NICU?  "Congrats" doesnt quite feel right. "I'm so sorry" doesn't really fit the bill either.
I guess what I was hoping for is- you're doing great!  You can do this!
I don't really remember what people said, just that no one ever said, "How are you handling this?" and I didn't have the sense at the time to say I needed a cheerleader.
No one could have known how much pain I was in.  Having them there was a great show of love and support.
Mostly everyone acted like it was a regular shower.  I suppose that is what I should have expected. I got the little break from reality that I wanted.  But when everyone left, it was back to reality.
In a way I just wanted to scream- I wish I was still pregnant!  I miss my babies!  I can't believe this is happening to me.  I wish that this was my "grieving the times I was apart from my babies in the NICU" blog.  Or my "preemie recovery and support" blog.  I wish this was my "learn from my mistakes with twins" blog.
I miss Samantha.  I wish she was here.  I love her so much.

Hannah's first trip to the beach

This weekend I had the huge blessing and surprise of getting to go to South Padre Island with my family and my parents.  I have been wanting to go (I always want to go) especially since last fall when the "fog" began to lift.
It was a little strange feeling so happy and not seeing the shadow.  I didn't feel the empty space at first.  Then Saturday night we went to mass and the reading was the story of Jesus healing the hemoraging woman and the young girl.  There also happened to be twin baby boys sitting in front of us and a baptism, which didn't help.
Mark 5:21 This was the Gospel reading.  It is full of hope.  And yet for me it is hard to hear.  During the hour that I waited to hear back from the surgeons about how severe Samantha's condition was, I called upon this reading to comfort and encourage myself.  I reached and and touched Jesus' cloak.  I implored him to save my daughter as he saved the young girl in the story.  In my heart I trusted through my fear that he would protect her and take care of her.  Even though I know he did in the most important sense take care of her, I was shocked and devastated when he didn't heal her body as I had asked.
Why not my daughter?  I can't help still asking even 2 years and 3 months later.
In South Padre, the next day bright and early I was blessed with a beautiful morning on the beach.  There was some fussing and crying from Samantha's twin, Hannah, now 2 and 5 months, but after a while we played in the waves.
I sat in the sand right where the waves were kissing the beach.  She sat on my lap facing me with her sweet head on my chest and arms around me.  We just sat like that holding each other for a long time.  Her beautiful hair was sticking together in perfect brown curls and her face was covered with sand.  The morning light glowed behind her like a halo.  Her sweet little body felt so safe and warm in my arms.  I began to cry, thinking of my little angel I'll never hold like that.
The waves gently lapped in and out, then got stronger and pushed me to the side then pulled me back.  I allowed them to move me as I cradled Hannah's body.  Then came a bigger wave and knocked me over.  Then it tried to suck me out.  It's power made me think of that moment I was brought to yesterday.
That moment when my baby was seriously sick and there wasn't anything I could do but cling to her and to hope, as I did to Hannah's body as the waves hit me.  I imagined the sea pulling my sweet Samantha from my arms.  Me, helpless against it's power, yet grasping and reaching desperately.
I didn't exaclty let go, but succumbed to it.