I came upon this beautiful poem on a blog http://myskytimes.wordpress.com. Sky is the lost baby of the blog writer. Although she didn’t write the poem, she did give me permission to use it.
I’ve been waiting for a day that felt right to share it. I think todays is that day (despite the fact that it’s late and I’m tired)
When I first read the poem , I was feeling really happy. This “Muchness” kick I’m on, it started so randomly, so organically for me, that I never envisioned it would become such a “thing”… and thing that seems to be resonating with people and offering them happy thoughts and smiles and positive thinking when they really need it. And all that positive feedback, well, it sort of started to feel like it’s own Muchness. The Muchness is my new Muchness. I still wear the sparkles, the awesome shoes, and honest-to-god, they still cheer me up (though sometimes they scratch my baby’s little face and I have to take them off when I get home) and I am SO PSYCHED to do some springtime Muchness shoe shopping… but I’ve gone days and weeks without crying, and it sort of caught up to me today.
After the loss of a baby you cant stop crying. You cry and cry and wonder if you will ever feel happy and whole again. And the crying, it’s pain. Its exhausting. It just pulls the very life out of you. And then, eventually, you realize you won’t cry forever. At a certain point you may even find yourself laughing. And then, the guilt. How can you possibly laugh when your baby is dead? And you cry again.
I’ve been laughing a lot. But I don’t feel that guilt anymore. I feel like the laughter is a gift from the twins. I feel like this Muchness thing, the people who read it and benefit from it, and then tell me about it- I think that is a gift from my girls. And I really hope I don’t mess it up. But today, I just missed them. Sometimes you anticipate the bad days. You know when they’re gonna hit you. The anniversaries. The holidays. The big family events. Other days they just quietly tap you on the shoulder and whisper in your ear “today you’re gonna cry.” But the crying is different now. Now it feels like that is a way for me to connect with them. A way to bring myself back to the pain I felt so strong, for so long. I wanted to cry for them today, my baby girls I never met. So I did.
I read excerpts from a fellow TTTS moms book. I know almost all the women in the book, and know their outcomes. I have the book on my phone and just read the page it opened to. It was the women talking about the day they learned they were expecting twins and how happy they were. And I thought back to that day in our lives. And I cried. I cried on the bus to work like I did every day for months and months after our loss. And I thought about our babies. And I missed them.
People who haven’t been through a loss like this probably think that by now, 18 months and 7 days and another baby – we’re probably “passed” it… over it… don’t think about it very frequently… it’s something that happened to us in the past… but, it’s not. Maybe for some babylost parents it’s that way. Not for me. For me, my loss defines me. As much as my children, my husband, my job, my religion… maybe more. Probably more. I don’t think these bad things happen for a reason. (and, word of advice, never suggest to a babyloss parent that they do) But I do think that it’s up to us to create something positive from our loss. For any little good that can come from my loss makes my babies short lives less in vain.
Here’s that poem. I love that it’s about shoes. I understand those shoes. However, I’d like to cover them in sequins. 🙂
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in the world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by
before they think of how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.