For some reason, today, I just can’t concentrate. I’m sitting at my desk and my brain keeps inserting me into this scene I have cemented in my brain. It was a beautiful day – September 23, 2009 and Elie and I were sitting on the grass outside the hospital. Daisy was already gone and we knew we’d be losing Sunshine. We were so calm, the two of us- in shock, I realize now.
Sometimes, when I feel stressed, my brain just goes there. Or it just plops me in the middle of that hospital- the waiting room, the ultrasound room, the hallways. I don’t even have to be thinking of the girls, it just happens- a split second where I’m working or online and then -boom- my brain is there. It’s almost like a flashback and it is as strong and clear as if I was just there yesterday. I’ve never experienced that sensation about anything else. I hate it.
After the twins died, stress and I developed a new understanding. Stress was no longer welcome. I had two dead babies. Mundane stress couldn’t hold a candle to that. For about 2 years it worked. But somehow I feel like it’s catching up to me. I think this because of the frequency with which my brain is dropping me into these scenes from the past. The moments that I lived through so they could shape me into a better person.
I feel like I’m not making certain choices in my personal life that honor the enormity of those changes. I’m standing in my own way and I don’t know why.
I do know why. Fear.
I lived through the death of my babies. That is like, a human beings worst fear, realized. I am strong and so capable. So why am I letting myself be limited by fear?
My mother was widowed at 35 years old- my age now, with 5 children, 3 of them under 7 years old, and her mother survived the holocaust. I mean, really. And that’s just one side of my family. I come from a long line of incredibly strong, powerful women.
I need to stop my belly aching and get my shit together to make proactive, fearless, smart choices.
This is me. Putting this out there for who the hell knows who to read. I’m gonna hold myself accountable. Please, somebody, kick my ass if I don’t.