Control- Going to the ballpark to watch L play baseball
Can't control- Seeing little boys run around and knowing you wont see your boys doing that. Seeing a little boy with curly hair and wondering if either boys would have had that. Seeing a baby in a stroller watching his brother play ball and realizing your babies won't see their big brother slide into home.
Control- Going on the 1st field trip you've been asked on
and having a great time with this handsome lil guy who told me last night, out of nowhere, "I love you Melissa.
Cant control- tears that followed.
Control- Making choices that you know is best for your family.
Can't control- People reacting negatively to the positive changes
Control- Watching what you eat and working out til your arms swell up like Popeye. (true story)
Can't control- hormones that make it impossible to lose weight.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
The closer my due date gets the more unglued I'm becoming. I had a good run of a couple of weeks where I felt normal. Well more accurately, a few days, and almost normal. Regardless, I was doing better. Saw some babies last weekend and it took my breath and I tasted blood from biting my lip to stop the tears but I got through it. Then tonight I completely lost and emotions won.
This still feels unreal to me. So many moms I know are going into labor, going to L&D, having their babies and then taking them home. That's how it's supposed to work. Not this hellish story that keeps going on. Insurance calls. Pediatric centers trying to collect money for taking care of the boys. Not having the energy or desire to call and correct them that they never were seen by anyone other than my dr and pathology and the funeral director.
The closer May 14 gets, the bigger my sorrow grows. And it doesn't make sense to me because I have 2 birthdays for my sons. I have 2 dates I delivered. I have two death days. I have the cremation days. I have the tree planting day. I have a bunch of stupid days that mean only one thing and that is May 14 won't mean anything other to me than 2 days after Mother's Day and the day we were supposed to have our miracles.
I don't know what all will come from the loss. The losses I guess. I do see good that has come. We have a stronger, more cohesive life with the kids. We have family time. We laugh. We make memories. We do things together. But the Fletcher angel on my right shoulder and the Tucker angel on my left always remind me that something is missing. 2 very important somethings are missing.
I get mad right now. Really mad. Short fuse mad. Who do you think you are mad. How dare you ask me where I work mad. What business is it of yours if I have any kids mad. I'm just broken. And the only 2 pieces that put me together again I won't see this side of heaven.
It's just hard. It's really freakin hard. I want to hold a baby so desperately but I know I wouldn't give it back and would completely freak out the mother. I hear stories of kids being abused and I want to bring them home with us. I hear of pregnant moms that don't want their kids and I want to put a big, neon, flashing sign with one of those 30' tall dancing men to direct people to my doorstep. I will gladly take your baby. I will rock it, I will hold it, I will sing to it and I will love it. I just want a baby.
I have to make it through the next month. And I know I will. I am seeing more friends. I am coming out of hibernation. Or seclusion. I'm making new friends. I'm testing the waters to see if the new me is welcome in the world or if I need to take some crazy pills and stay home a little longer. I'm really trying the best I can to be the new me that the past 4 months has set in motion It's been 4 months. How has it only been 4 months?
"How many times have you heard me cry out
God please take this?
How many times have you given me strength to
just keep breathing?
Oh, I need you,
God I need you now!"
I couldn't have said it different or better. I need you, God. God, I miss my boys. I miss them with everything I am.
Aside from being a total mental case, trying to lose weight postpartum is probably as fun as sticking hot needles in your eyes. Jason today took me by the shoulders and said "You gave birth 4 months ago, your body went through major trauma. You are beautiful and cut yourself some slack.
Easy for him to say, he doesn't have milk leaking out his boobs.
He's a good man. He's a great husband. He's a really great daddy and I just wish, for one hour, we could have our babies back. I want to hold Tucker. I want to kiss Fletcher. I want to tell them I love them enough to last my lifetime.
Ebbs and flows. Have a great day, see a baby, freak.
Have a great day on a field trip, come home to a house that smells like a dog kennel if every dog had diarrhea. But I guess bad days come because I get out of the house and come back to reality. BUT I am getting out of the house. I'm laughing. I'm living. I'm trying.
Tucker, Fletcher, your momma and Daddy love you and think about you every single day. I wish i could rock you to sleep, I wish I could comfort you, I wish you were here.
Tomorrow will be better. If not for the whole day better, then at least for some parts better. And right now the parts are what is making us whole again. Slowly. but surely, we're finding our way out of this nightmare. Friends are emailing and texting still. Letting me know we are loved. We are cared for. We aren't forgotten.
Thank you!
And if you start getting boxes delivered to your house from a unknown FL address, no need to wonder. Probably just a box of dozens of paintings I've been doing to keep my sanity. They are taking over the house so canvas for all!
I'm going to go lay down next to the only one who understand the pain of missing our 2 little boys, I'll let him hold me, I'll let him wipe my tears away and I'll try my best to believe it when he says we'll get through this ok.
Crazy lady checkin out. xo
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