Not a day goes by.

January 5th came and went. Oh how I wished that I went into my ultrasound that day, saw two beautiful bouncing babies, got another set of adorable profile photos, listen to their thumping heartbeats, get an all good from my doctor and happily go home. I would have gone to bunko that night and showed off my photos, excitedly talk about the New Year and what would be. Instead a year ago our world came crashing down, bunko was canceled and I sat on a couch in shock and tears with my family.

This year-I spent most of the day under a blanket on the couch with teary swollen eyes. Kyle brought me flowers and gave me hugs, he whispered in my ear that he wished things were different too. I snuggled my littlest 2nd twinless twin and I apologized to him - apologized for so many things that for whatever reason, I wasn't able to give him either. Kyle had to go reff that evening, so I sat alone on the couch with the kids, in silence of grief.

I know, why would I apologize to Madden? It wasn't my fault, I was doing everything I could think of to keep them safe. My brain knows this, but my heart has a hard time not feeling like I failed him from having his twin sister. I- well my body- was suppose to protect her. There was nothing wrong genetically- so where did something go wrong? What did my body do to fail? I just don't understand why. So all I could do was apologize to him. Of course he doesn't understand and all I have to show him someday are black and white photos of him and his sister side by side. Which doesn't seem like enough.

I didn't realize that because Quinn wasn't actually born, what a lonely day the 2nd worst day of our lives actually was. Its like because she spent almost 19 weeks sleeping inside me, her life was different then if she were born alive, and given a birth certificate. The true silence of grief. I wasn't prepared for that. With Ashlyn there is always more mention of her name around the anniversaries of her life and death, by family especially. Its like because she was born, she was real, we held her and said goodbye...she had a birth and death date. A place at a cemetery to go put flowers, or visit just because. Because Quinn lay sleeping, that she passed in the 2nd trimester, or she wasn't at a point of viability, or because I didn't get to hold her in my arms, its not the "same"? Instead, I have a gift bag with a box in it, that holds what I have left of my baby on my dresser that says differently. (don't get me started on the gift bag...) Its been there for several months now and I can't bring myself to "finalize" her remains. Whatever that even means. I guess I need to get an urn for her. *sigh* Thats not exactly a fun way to spend an afternoon searching websites for. Trust me, I have done it a few times.

For any mother who has lost a child, the mere mention of their angels name speaks volumes. Someone other then yourself remembers. The simple question of how are you doing..or thinking of you today mean that you aren't alone in your grief. Acknowledgment. I went back and forth that day to post any thing on facebook. I typed and erased several times. I didn't want to, for the sake of calling "attention" to my heartache. But I wanted to, because I didn't want to sit in silence and not acknowledge my daughter in really the only public way I know how... I was thankful for the responses I did get, probably more then those who commented will ever know. For a second they went out of their way and acknowledged her too. For a moment, I didn't want to feel so alone. I wanted others to remember too.

This year two stockings were hung up for Christmas..newly stitched with two precious names, that hung empty. All 3 of my girls have matching ones. Sad how that worked out.

January 5th came and went. Silently.

A friend did send me a poem that day, actually, a friend I have never met. Its one I haven't read before. It meant so much that she sent it. Its about the silent grief that a mother has.

My Mom is a survivor,
or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night
when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night
and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her
to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
that never wash away ...
I watch over my surviving Mom
who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others ...
a smile of disguise!
But through Heaven's door
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My Mom tries to cope with death;
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows
it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving Mom
through Heaven's open door ...
I try to tell her that angels
protect me forevermore!
I know that doesn't help her,
or ease the burden she bears.
So, if you get a chance, go visit her.
Show her that you care.
For no matter what she says ...
no matter what she feels.
My surviving Mom has a broken heart
that time won't ever heal.

I do know my girls are with me. I know my girls are watching over their twins. Its apparent when Madden is CLEARLY smiling and talking past us to nothing. Haley use to do the same thing. Its been a hard week- I wish I would have blogged sooner. I just didn't bring myself to "get it out" but when I do, it helps so much. So instead of laying in bed not sleeping, I figured I should do something with my insomnia. Now hopefully with the one year angelversary behind me-I can move forward and focus on other things- like my 3 year old turning 4 next week. My 6 year old turning 7 next month and my baby turning 1 in almost 3 months. (*ok and my daughter turning 9 in 4 she would say "its not FAIR I am last!" haha) We have some busy months ahead of us. Time just keeps marching on.

Twinkletoes  – (January 23, 2011 at 5:55 PM)  

I am so sorry that you look back with such grief. My heart is heavy for you.

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