Category: SUNSHINE & DAISY

Pain

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I was recently involved in a conversation with my sister and a friend of hers where my sister stated that “you probably do kinda wanna forget about it” after some time has passed. Forget about what? Oh, the dead babies. Well, to be fair, she didn’t mean to forget about the babies themselves, but to forget the intensity of pain and grief that followed their death. Like, wouldn’t it be unhealthy to constantly remember the intensity of that pain? Wouldn’t anyone would want to forget about and release a pain like that?

No.

The pain is my blessing. The intensity of those feelings is a gift. To forget about the pain IS to forget about them, because those emotions are what I have that demonstrates the level of love I have for those girls. The gift of that emotion is what has enhanced my life and soul and changed me for the better. To forget what that visceral emotion feels like is, to me, a betrayal of the gift I have been given of being the mother of dead identical  twin girls.

This is not to say the pain is with me every day. Actually, at this point, over two and half years later, there are days that pass where I think of them  almost not at all. Where I don’t feel direct pain. Because this scar is part of me and I have learned to live with it. And then come days I want to pick at the scar tissue and make it bleed. There is comfort in the pain. There is growth, understanding, empathy, sincerity in the pain.

I have been thinking about this post and that conversation for a while and wanted to write about it because I think her well meaning assumption is common, but also misguided.

People get uneasy when I (or my babyloss mom friends) mention their dead babies. Or they think that we should attempt to forget about the pain. Certainly there are people that after a long time are still trapped in their grief. People that are guided and controlled by the pain, and that need help to keep from drowning in it. I am not talking about those people as I am ill-equipped to do so. I am talking about myself and my experiences.

When mothers with fresh losses first find themselves on  the support sites, others reach out to ‘welcome’ them and offer them an ear or shoulder or sounding board for their confusion and isolation and sadness. And occasionally a mom will ‘scream’ out in frustration “HOW CAN I MAKE THIS PAIN STOP?!” and there is no useful answer to offer. Because the only answer is ‘time.’ and we don’t control that.

And minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, the time passes, the weeks, months, years… and the pain, though it ebbs and flows, gets more intense and then less…. eventually it becomes manageable. We become accustomed to the crying fits which are shorter and less foreign. The understanding that the overwhelming pain will pass- though eventually return again- becomes a familiar, even comforting thought.

I love to miss my girls. Missing them makes me miss them less, because it’s a way of being closer to them.

I never know how to end these posts that just go on and on with no direct conclusion, so I will end with this quote

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Reminiscing about being pregnant. And other baby and dead baby stuff too.

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Liat right now is the same age Molly was when the twins died. Just under 18 months.

I’ve been looking at Liat, studying her, trying to remember if Molly was the same as her at that age, but it’s hard to remember. So much of that time is just a blur. Liat, at 18 months, mumbles a few words- like book, ball, more and done. She enunciates very clearly and loudly the words MOMMY and DADDY. Usually too early in the morning. She crawled right on schedule, has been walking for months and runs like a champ. This is all in contrast to Molly. By 18 months she was talking a mile a minute. She was singing Happy Birthday and already telling me what to do. But she was only starting to take a few steps. And she never crawled. Never. Instead she did this butt shuffle thing across the floor, and she could do it at lightning speed. I used to joke that she was too much of a princess to get on her hands and knees and face the floor. Now that she’s four, I realize that wasn’t much of a joke. It was foreshadowing of the truth. She is a princess. A very smart, intuitive princess.

I have this one clear memory of Molly from that time that always sticks with me. When I was pregnant Molly came up to me one day, lifted my shirt, touched my belly and said “baby”. It was so smart and I hadn’t told her that there was a baby in there, but somehow she picked up on it. I remember I was surprised and told Elie and scooped up Molly and kissed her and told her yup! That’s a baby— in fact, it’s babies! My sister had bought her two little baby dolls – ‘twins’ as it were. They were about 10″ long and I remember reading in my baby book that the babies were about that long for my gestational age. I put the dolls on my tummy, sorta spooned together yin-yang style and showed her.

After that, she’d come up to me every day and do that. Lift my shirt and say baby. Pretty soon I got her to do that and kiss my tummy too. I loved it.

Then the babies died.

I had a D&E to remove the babies from my body. I was the first appointment of the morning. I was home by noon. Later that day, I sat on the floor playing with Molly. I was in shock, still completely numb to what had happened. Molly came over to me, lifted my shirt and patted my belly and said “babies.” I looked right at her and said “No more babies” and started to cry. My not yet 18 month old looked up at me with the most intensely understanding and emotional brown eyes. She pulled down my shirt over my tummy, scootched closer to me and wrapped her arms around me. She never pulled up my shirt again after that. Never mentioned the babies.

I thought at the time that she probably understood that something had happened, but I didn’t ever sit her down and explain it. Sometimes I wonder how much she understood, and if she remembers.

When I got pregnant with Liat it took a looong time for me to tell Molly. We both sort of ignored it till maybe my 7th month. It was almost a full year since we’d lost the twins. I eventually started talking about how she would be a big sister, we bought a ‘big sister’ book and slowly, she started to acknowledge my tremendous belly. We put heart stickers on it

and she put her handprint in paint

and I did whatever I could to create positive pregnancy belly thoughts to counteract the negative ones that were somewhere in her baby subconscious. And in my own. I videotaped my tummy dancing up a storm.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9EvHLN_-Hc&feature=youtu.be”]

Elie and I spent one evening painting my tummy. We used paint and traced the veins that were all over my body. then we added leaves and flowers and called it The Tree Of Life.

I guess I’m feeling sentimental for pregnancy. For the anticipation of every moment. The feeling of a baby living and growing inside of you. Of the twins, who filled my body for 6 months and were a miracle and blessing all their own. Even though they died inside of me and brought me a grief and sadness unlike anything I’d ever known. They also brought me a love, a depth and empathy like I’d never known. We’re not planning to have another baby. The plan was two. From the day we met. The only time I ever wanted more than two was during those six months when I was expecting three. And for about a year and a half after that. And in moments like this at 2 in the morning.

That’s all for now.

Thanks for Sharing! (or not… as the case may be…)

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I started a blog when I was pregnant with the twins. It started as an idea to document the pregnancy and maybe earn a little cash cuz, ya know, we were planning to have twins. That monetizing part of the plan never quite got off the ground, cuz when we started seeing early warning signs of TTTS, the blog became a place for me to go and just vent or talk or update about our many doctor appointments, my fears, my feelings… whatever.

After they died I stopped writing there very often but I wrote A LOT on the babyloss forums online where I felt heard and understood and like I could release some of my crazy-making feelings. Over time, the writing became part of my ‘processing process’. It helped me organize and understand my emotions and feelings and to create actionable plans to help me work through them.

Now I am writing here. On this blog. About all sorts of random Muchness. And I try to do it really honestly. Because otherwise, what’s the point? As I wrote a few weeks ago, the past few months have been challenging at work. And the fact that I have not felt ‘safe’ to blog about it here has really messed up my processing process. All my crazy-making thoughts are starting to make me feel just a wee-bit crazy.

So I’ve decided to blog about stuff that I need to get off my chest. Privately. Meaning, when I want to talk about something that is not in my best interest to share on the site, I will password protect the post. If you are a person I can safely share the post with, contact me to request the password. If I work with you, don’t ask. Just be taunted by my secrecy. 🙂

Thinking of my babies

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I haven’t been sleeping well. I have stayed up late watching tv. I do that when I’m afraid to head upstairs and go to bed. Afraid because I think im going to lie in bed and think about two perfect little girls who look exactly alike and look like a mix between my two living girls.
Mollys birthday is coming up. I’m making a disco party for her. But her birthday also marks another day. It’s the day the twins were conceived. Last year I didn’t recognize the shadow sadness hovering around me. This year I felt it. Im feeling it. I spend 6 months a year remembering where in my pregnancy I was in 2009. I wonder if that’s ever gonna change.
I really need to get to bed.

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The blessings of a support group

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I have been in such an emotional conflict, even sparkles on the outside havn’t helped me. It’s been months since I have really come here and written a heartfelt post. My traffic has slowed a bit and I have been letting it, because I am rebuildng the site in a newer, more sincere and personal format. The work has taken longer than I expected but We’re getting close and I’m getting excited. I’ve also been conflicted at work. I’ve been arguing with my boss and feeling incredibly stressed and insecure. I’ve tried writing about it here but I always stop about two sentences in. Because I worry who will see this- namely my boss. But I’ve sent the last 3 years blogging my feelings and then ‘stopping’ to do that out of fear, I’ve been left emotionally chaotic and crippled.

So yesterday, I posted on my private TTTS Grief support group about my work issues. It wasn’t really the most appropriate place, but it was private and it was bubbling to the surface and I needed to just release some of it because the burden of carrying it in me is starting to take a toll.

And after I finished posting, I realized I really didn’t have as much to be afraid of as I’d thought. I put the words down in print and immediately I felt lighter.

I feel like I’ve neglected this site and the amazing women that have joined and contributed over the last few months, and for that I feel terrible and ashamed and I’m sorry. I’d like to say I’m done being afraid to post honestly here, but that would be a lie. So, for now, I will post and leave it password protected because I am too chicken sh*t to post publicly. 😐

Wanna read it? Message me for the password!

FEAR. The ultimate 4-letter word. Screw Fear. Who needs it?

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Ive been thinking a lot about fear. Fear. My pregnancy with the twins was ruled by fear. Yes, I was excited, but it was always tempered by fear. Because of the high risk. Because of TTTS. Because of the weekly ultrasounds and the constant  concern that the babies conditions in my womb had worsened. Because I had no way to know, from minute to minute, if the babies growing inside my body were OK. Because I knew what TTTS could do to my babies. How many ways it could damage so many parts of them, forever. How it could steal their lives.

I take it back. I was not excited. I was terrified.

And then my worst fear became a reality. And that became the world I had to navigate.

After the girls died I went through many stages of grief.  I had to relearn to live in the world that my world had become. I was no longer just the standard daughter, sister, wife, mother like everyone else. More than any of those things, I was the mother of two dead babies. Two. Dead. Babies. The words would ring in my ears as I walked in the street. “I have Two Dead Babies. Wow. That’s pretty unusual” I’d think to myself while tears rolled down my cheeks as I walked to the bus station. “I mean, I know having identical twins is unique, but having dead identical twins… wow. Now that’s special. Not too many people get to say that about themselves.”

Now, maybe that sounds kind of twisted, to have thoughts like that. But the brain and heart do some funny things when your worst fears have come true. You realize, over time, that well, basically, you’re still here. You have lived through your worst fear- possibly the worst fear a person can have, and you are on the other side. You’ve witnessed yourself at the weakest, most vulnerable place you can imagine, heard yourself cry harder than you knew you could, feel lower and darker and sadder and more broken than you knew was possible. And you are still here. Feet hitting the ground, day after day. You learn that you are stronger than you thought you were. And if that…. that monster of pain did not kill you, if living through that biggest fear did not overtake you, well, there’s likely not much that can.

At some point in the grieving process, I stopped allowing other fears to guide me. I don’t know that I even realized I had been letting it guide me, until I realized it wasn’t any longer. Even the early days of The Muchness was about that. I’d been afraid before to express myself through my appearance. I’d always loved flashy colorful clothes but once I left college they just didn’t seem ‘appropriate’ (oh, how I HATED that word as a teenager… and again, now) and I was worried how others would judge me. I was afraid to speak up for fear that I’d say something stupid. Or someone would tell me to stop talking. Not anymore. I found I was speaking up when I had a question, without worrying I’d sound dumb, I wore what I liked and made the decision to feel confident in it. Because what was there to fear? Nothing. I am the mother of two dead babies and I am strong. You can’t scare me with your silly little judgements.

I haven’t posted here much in the last week or so. I give myself a big fat F on the declutter challenge and I feel like crap about it. I DID declutter, and continue to, but I just didn’t have the time to sit and post and write and do all the things I wanted to do. Plus, I lost my camera battery and didn’t take enough great pictures. And I found, I was afraid. Afraid to come here and mention it. Afraid I’d disappointed people (besides myself)… afraid of what I am building on this site and hopefully in my life to give back in a meaningful way that is true from my heart. And it’s been eating away at me. And it’s self perpetuating, yet I couldn’t even keep up with the challenge I created. So I am coming here to post and spill my guts and break this cycle of fear that has blossomed inside me since the new year. It is NOT what I had in mind when I said I was going to make this year amazing.

So- I will not let fear rule me. I will be guided instead by optimism, strength, and the knowledge that when I follow my heart, I make the right choices and good things happen.  I am a daughter and sister and wife and mother and I am also the proud mother of two dead babies. Fear has lost it’s privileges in my world.

I like this quote. It doesn’t really take into account fears like babyloss…. though, imagining how much pleasure I would have felt watching my twins grow up healthy, having conquered TTTS, I guess it does. That was just a fear to whose contribution I simply had no choice.

Hurricane Sandy

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I wrote this post during Hurricane Sandy. That feels like a million miles away from where we are now, but I never posted it. I’d planned for it to run as my first contributor post in Still Standing Magazine but by the date my post was due to publish, this felt outdated. So I saved it, till now, when it is without a doubt “outdated.” …I like to think my work is timeless.

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I was in the windowless attic bathroom, in the tub with my two year old Liat, when the lights went out.
I sat there in the pitch black, stunned.  I wondering what had happened, but I knew exactly what had happened. Sandy had taken out our power.  I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen, though I kind of expected it. But not this early! The storm had barely even touched us!
After a second of shock, I came to my senses and reached for my daughter, sitting only inches from me. I felt for her slippery little armpits and grabbed her close. I turned off the water and called to my husband.
“Elie!” I yelled.
Nothing.
“Elie!!” Louder. And then I heard him say “Oh my God” and start running… And not in my direction. My heart stopped. He’d been downstairs with our four year old, Molly. Immediately I had visions of her being trapped or fallen or terrified of the dark.
“Elie!!!!” I called louder and more emphatically.  I could hear the panic in my voice. And then Liat, thinking I might need help called out, panicky “Elie!” and I realized I needed to pull myself together. I grabbed her close to me and felt my way out of the tub, through the pitch dark and out of the room. As I ran down the stairs holding her against me making sure she wouldn’t slip through my arms, it totally escaped my attention that it was still broad daylight in the rest of the house and we were both completely naked.
As I got near the bottom of the stairs, heart racing, Elie & Molly appeared, looked up at us, and started laughing.
The relief and joy I felt in that moment, as I realized how insane we must have appeared, but so thankful that they were alright, is something that I hope I always hold onto.
After showing me the enormous tree that had fallen into the street from our front lawn, (the reason for his ‘OMG’) we put in our cozy PJs and buckled down for the remainder of the storm.
We decided to all sleep together in the downstairs family room, and as I lay on the back-breakingly uncomfortable pullout sofa with a candle burning on the tv cabinet, I thought about how lucky we were. Lucky that the tree fell into the street and, though it had taken down every wire and telephone pole in a 500 foot radius, it did not take out half our house as it would have if it had fallen the other way. Lucky that we were safe, and together, and for the time being, warm.
In the days that followed our family stayed in the dark, literally and figuratively. We had no power or Internet, and with torn and exposed wires hanging across our lawn, just going outside was nerve wracking . We spent the days together, the girls playing, coloring, dancing. I spent time cooking all our perishables on the (thankfully still working) stove and washing a ton of dishes. We connected to each other almost entirely unaware of the outside world, and it was nice.
On Wednesday morning, while wearing a winter jacket, I cleaned out the refrigerator of all the remaining spoiled food and washed down the shelves for the first time in, um, possibly forever. As I scrubbed something especially nasty out of the back of a drawer, I dawned on me how calm and content I felt. Immediately I thought of my twins. I thought about how, in years past, I would have been a basket case, freaking out about what we were gonna do and where we were gonna go, but I guess I’ve learned a thing or two…
I’ve learned that I can’t control everything and sometimes all the planning in the world just doesn’t matter.
I’ve learned that despite not having a clean refrigerator, or electricity, or, as it were, my living twins with me, I have a world of blessings all around me.
I’ve learned that I am stronger and more resilient than I tend to give myself credit for, yet who we are is truly so intimately entwined with who we *think* we are, so I really aught to own my strength.
I’ve learned that things can always get worse.
As cell phone towers got back online and we were able to charge our phones in the car, I started to hear about the devastation and heartbreaking losses Sandy brought our way. Places we’ve visited in the summers, neighborhoods where friends grew up, demolished.
The worst were the young families ripped apart by this storm.
My heart breaks for them in ways I didn’t know existed before my own, personal heartbreaking storm. And yet I still can’t begin to imagine their pain.
I lay here, typing this post with one finger on my iPhone, in the home of a very generous friend who has a very powerful generator. My girls are two feet away from me on an air mattress and Elie is sleeping at my side. In this moment I imagine that if all I had in the world existed inside this little room, I’d probably be ok… Well, I mean, if there was coffee…
I know a day will come soon when well be back at home, the house will be a cluttered mess,  Molly will be having a total drama-queen hissy fit, Liat, in the midst of potty training, will be peeing on the couch while the Fresh Beats kick up their heels at an insane volume, Elie will be on a business call locked in the office and I will just want to pull out my hair and escape to the someplace quiet. Yes. I know that day will come. And I hope I will think of this moment, take a second to count my blessings, and keep moving forward.

Hold your loved ones tight. Love them even more for the babies you’ve lost or yearn to conceive. The tremendous love in your heart is a special gift to you. Use it. To love better, love more selflessly, love more people, with fewer conditions and expectations. And not only others, but love yourself as well. Generously and gently. That is the way I’ve found to honor my daughters.  I continue to be humbled by the enormity of the gifts our angel babies give us. My hope is that all baby loss moms will ultimately learn to see those gifts in their own worlds. It can be hard inside the darkness, but there is always light when you are ready to see it.

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Our View

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Amazing gift for a babyloss Mom, from a babyloss mom

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mentioned yesterday that I participated in a holiday gift swap with other TTTS moms. I opened my gift this morning and my heart stopped. This might be the most thoughtful gift I’ve received. Ever. I have grown close with a number of TTTS loss moms, but the woman I was paired with, I don’t know her very well…. but I feel like she knows me through and through. I cried like a baby as I turned the pages of this scrapbook, thinking how I would fill the extra pages with all the stuff that’s been shoved into my memory box and thrown in the closet. I felt myself handling the book like it was as precious as a first edition Shakespeare.

Here are just some of the Pages she created… leaving many with glittery scrapbook paper for me to fill with the girls stuff.

Cover:

First Page: (There’s glitter on those flowers… this book could not be more “me” if I’d sat and made it myself)

Their Birthdate. This makes me cry.

Words to live by:

The best quotes. Every one of them. I need to put them in Muchness Bands.

Cry. Cry. Cry. I love it.

How Muchy is this?

…and this – this feels like a promise I have made to myself to fulfill from a very early age. I want to frame this page and hang it above my computer. Then make a copy and hang it above the craft area where I make Muchness Bands at 2am. I  want to tattoo it on my forehead so I never forget it. (But I won’t. Don’t worry.)

I will post more pics after I fill it with Sunshine And Daisy’s stuff.

Happy Holidays Everyone!!

xox, Tova

Babyloss Support Group

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I’m heading out to go to a local support group. Not sure why. Maybe just an excuse to get out of the house? I guess I’ve been feeling a little stressed lately. Maybe it’s an excuse to think about the twins. Something about the idea of just thinking about them is making me feel less stressed. Sort of comforted, actually.

Been wondering where the time flies away to lately. I feel like I barely have a moment to lift my chin, look around and say hello. The kids are getting more demanding of my time, my job is getting more demanding of my brain, the house is being more demanding in terms of needing to be cleaned, sleep is getting more demanding on my body, since I’ve deprived it for so long of a healthy sleep pattern. And this site, with all it’s upgrades and changes and fun stuff, is getting more demanding of my personal passion. In the end, it’ll all work out. The good stuff will rise to the top. As long as we keep moving, we’re moving forward.

More from me later!

A Mother’s Love

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A Mother’s Love

I didn’t have to look into your eyes

to fall in love with you.

I didn’t need to hear you cry

to know you loved me too.

I didn’t need to hold your hand

to cherish you for always.

Within my womb, we shared our hearts.

You touched my soul.

You sweetened my spirit.

You gave me memories I’ll always hold dear.

Yes. My heart aches since you departed too soon.

But a mother’s love does not end with death.

For you are my child.

Forever my love is yours.

-KLS

Sunshine and Daisy in our home

Sunshine & Daisy…. Missing You.