Friday, May 11, 2012

The Drive

I find myself doing most of my crying and the drive to and from work. The drive can take up to an hour depending on traffic. Everyday I have to drive past my fertility doctor's office and the hospital where I delivered the girls. And, when I happen to look over and see them I think back to the second appointment at the fertility doctor's office when I felt like my world was collapsing when they told us the only hope of getting pregnant was via IVF. Then I think about the happiness that happened there - finding out we were having twins and being released from there at 10 weeks pregnant to my regular OB/GYN. And, then, the hospital. I think of the days the girls were born. How I was in such shock when the ultrasound tech asked over and over if I was sure I was having twins because she only saw one baby. How traumatic (emotionally) Savannah's delivery was. How all I heard around me were the cries of babies taking their first breaths in the world. How the nurses were so sweet to us. How I have no photos of us with our baby girls. How I was wheeled out with empty arms, out the back door, so no one would stare. How my world was forever changed.
This morning I found myself becoming mad. I was recently telling a few people how I feel like I got cut short of the fun part of pregnancy. I had just reached that point of not feeling sick or tired, the subchorionic bleed had gone away, and were about to find out the sex of the babies. I was looking forward to registering, upcoming baby showers, & decorating their nursery. And what were two people's responses? They told me I was glamorizing pregnancy. That is isn't fun at the end because you are miserable no matter what you are doing. Do they not understand what I would give to get to that point of pregnancy if it meant I would have a healthy baby here? Seriously, I would take not be able to tie my shoes, waddling, not being able to sleep, not being able to sit, ANY of it, gladly. That was on my mind this morning for some reason, and I just had to crank up the radio and sing at the top of my lungs to feel better.
You know, honestly, the best thing anyone has said to me since the girls were born is "I don't know how you do it everyday." To me, it was a recognition of how hard it is to get dressed some days and put on a smile and do my job, but I do it every day. Yes, some days I am ok. But, most of the days I'm not. To me, those words were comfort. The second best thing I have heard is "I'm praying for you." I believe in the power of prayer, and I know that is what has given me the strength to go on everyday.
This week has been rough leading up to Mother's Day. I am still trying to be thankful for all that I have, but I have found myself crying at work every day. I can be in the middle of a huge project, and I will just start crying. I don't think I am thinking about the girls or Mother's Day because I am so focused on my project, but somewhere in there, I must be. Wednesday was one of those days. I had been crying on the way back from a business lunch, and when I returned to the office I had a package on my desk. This is not unusual as print media reps tend to send over samples of their products trying to get our business. But, what a sweet surprise it was. Inside was a card from an old high school friend, along with a necklace that has three owls - the momma owl and her two babies. I just LOVE it. It was exactly what I needed on that day. To be thought of and loved during this time is just the best feeling. It has amazed me who has been there for me since the girls. Some of my closest friends have stayed back, while others who I am not as close to have reached out and offered support. Funny how hard times do that.
When I was pregnant, if I was sitting in traffic, I would rub my belly and talk to the girls to tell them I love them. Now, when I am sitting in traffic, I can hold on this necklace when I tell them I love them.

1 comment:

  1. There are so many elements to the trauma that is losing a child (or in your case, children... just survival right now is strength).

    We lost our baby earlier than you did. I was 10 weeks when we found out our Jordan had no heartbeat. There were so many types of trauma after that.... surgical trauma, emotional trauma, physical trauma, etc. etc.

    You are a courageous and beautiful mommy, Ashley.

    I'm so thankful for the gift of the owl necklace. When I cried myself to sleep at night with empty throbbing arms, I would hold a tiny silver baby bracelet I ordered with Jordan's full name engraved in it. I would rub the engraved name and somehow that was comforting.

    Thinking of you.