Yesterday, My Love and I were at the gym...together. Working out...together. We have not worked out together since our first daughter was born two and a half years ago. It was so nice. I felt like it was a date.
We were lifting weights and My Love said something to me (I forget what it was) and I responded with, after all, I did just have twins. We were laughing and joking around with one another before I said it and continued to do so after. But those words still lingered. I thought to myself, I did just have twins and when I go to pick up my daughter from the gym's childcare, I will just be picking up her, not Emmerson and Vivienne. I just had twins and they are not with me. They are not here.
A little while later, while we were still working out, I overhead a man saying something about his baby. Baby. I had two. When I go home, they will not be there. As we did our cool down, the sadness, the reality, weighed down on me. They are not here.
I stopped. My Love asked what was wrong. I did not respond. He took one look at my eyes (as he is accustomed to doing now when there has been a drastic change in my demeanor) and gave me a knowing look.
We get home and I retreat to my hideout - under the covers in my bed.
This morning upon rising, the lingering sadness is still there. I am trying so hard to just be normal. It consumes a surprising amount of energy.
My daughter has a fever and she is out of character for herself. She climbs up on my lap and she is still. She is never not moving. She is constantly on the go, constantly jumping and running. She does not know any other way to get from Point A to Point B.
She has climbed up on my lap and she is still. She cuddles with me and I relish it. She is never still long enough to cuddle and I can not remember the last time I have cuddled with her. Without trying, I remember back to when she was an infant and I cuddled with her all the time. I remember back to when I was pregnant with her and a smile grows on my face. Without warning, memories of my pregnancy with Emmerson and Vivienne hit me and I smile more and then I grow sad. They are not here.
The sadness soaks in more. It takes more energy to just be normal. I am so weighed down that it begins to feel as if I am moving under water. I am so weighed down that a film covers my eyes and I can not see all that I have been blessed with.
I hurt. I ache.
It comes out of nowhere. It always takes me by surprise. I don't plan for the grief to overcome me and when it does, I do not know what to do with it.
Just when I think I am making some progress, I have set backs. When I am making progress, I fall back to what comes as second nature to me...planning. The grief comes and the plans stop. The day, the moment, stops and it stretches out to forever. It frightens me to see that as my life. I do not want it. I did not ask for this. I did not plan for this. I do not have a back up plan for this grief, for this new reality.
It is gloomy and raining on this October Day. I feel as if my heart, me, is gloomy and raining and I am having such a hard time seeing it as good. Seeing it as blessing.
I want them here with me. I want my arms to be full with the weight of them. I miss them so.
I miss and I ache so much for them. The grief has come and I am having a hard time being present.
I ask and beg of prayers from you today.