Feeling like a crappy mom...

I rarely visit my son's grave. It's just not something I do, it's not convenient and honestly I don't really like going. I was running an errand for my husband today and was down the road from the cemetery. I wasn't planning on stopping. What kind of mother doesn't want to visit her son?! I had my survivor with me, so the two of us got out of the car, put some rocks on his headstone, and then stood there for a moment. Being there just makes me feel sad, it doesn't offer me any comfort and I'm never sure what I'm supposed to do while I'm there. I feel guilty for not going, I feel like I should go, it's the only thing I can do for him and I don't. My survivor told my older daughter that we went to visit their brother today and my oldest was really upset that we went without her. Of course I then felt worse, not only have I been letting down my baby, but I let down my oldest by not taking her to visit her brother. Guilt stinks, it really drains me. Do you ever feel like the guilt takes over. I'm not sure how to make peace with the cemetery visits. Anyone else feel ambivalent about visiting the cemetery?

Sometimes the smallest thing can just knock the wind out of you.

I was looking at some pictures I had downloaded off my camera when I saw it, just a innocent picture of my survivor and my nephew, and for a moment I was back in that horrible place right after my loss. It was my little girl and her cousin standing next to each other from behind. They're about the same height with similar color hair and all I could think about was that should be my twins. My son and daughter, my survivor and her twin. I don't have a single picture of the two of them together. (He was stillborn and delivered 5 days before my survivor so we weren't able to take any pictures of them together.) Earlier this week my Mom made an offhand remark that also stung. We were talking about possibly organizing a family reunion with some cousins who all have daughters and my Mom says, "isn't it funny that [my nephew] is the only boy." It felt like she had stabbed me, real funny Mom. When I called her on it she apologized profusely, but still I guess I expected more from my own mother. I have more good days than bad days lately, but those unexpected triggers still hurt.

There should've been three...

I can't seem to let go of that feeling. It seems like there's always some reminder that some one's missing. It's the silliest things. Like filling out a form that asks how many children you have. I always hesitate, I desperately want to check off 3, but I don't. It's looking at the two car seats and wondering why there isn't a third. Going to restaurant and asking for a table for 4 rather than 5. Or that my survivor has taken an interest in toy cars and trucks. Most parents of daughters probably wouldn't even give it a second thought, but it makes me so sad. All I can think about is how she should be playing trucks with her twin brother. Whenever she shows an interest in something that is typically a boy toy or activity my heart feels so heavy. I used to occasionally buy my older daughter boy pajamas if they were on clearance, because what's the difference right, but I can't bear to put them on my survivor.

Why do people need to ask how many children I have. I never know how to answer and any answer I choose hurts. It makes me want to scream. I want to go up to strangers at the store and say, please think for a moment before you ask someone how many children they have. You just never know what someone has been through and the pain that question might bring them. The question that hurts the most is when people look at my beautiful daughters and say (without thinking I'm sure), "Oh, just the two girls." That one stabs me in the heart. Most days I just nod and say yes. Other days I might say I have a son too and keep going on my way before the follow-up questions start. Every once in awhile I might tell my story. But, no matter what, it still hurts.

Balance...

I've been wondering a lot lately whether my survivor understands what she's lost. She seems to be drawn to other boy/girl twins. Is it just a coincidence or on some level does she know. One of my biggest fears is putting my grief on her. My grief is not her burden (or my older daughter's either) to bear. However, I'm not sure how to balance explaining the loss to her without burdening her. I want her to know she had a twin brother, but I don't ever want her to blame herself or somehow not feel whole. The hardest part for me is that we don't even really have any memories to share with her. He was stillborn, other than me, my survivor is really the only other person that got to share some time with him while he was alive. I'm not sure there are any answers, but I sure wish there were. It seems like when you have a stillborn child, like a miscarriage, that you're supposed to pretend it never happened. That somehow you're child wasn't real because they never lived outside the womb.

Wondering about who he would've been...

Last year at this time all I could think about was there should be two. I was supposed to have twins, a boy and a girl. Two years out, I keep wondering who my son would be now. What would he look like, what type of personality would he have? Would he be big like his older sister, tiny like his twin, straight hair, curly hair, eye color, etc.? I still have questions, but they're different then the early grief stage. My arms might not feel as empty, but my heart still aches.

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my son's death.

I wasn't dreading this year like I was last year, but the hurt sort of snuck up on me. Maybe it's because my husband (who never travels) is leaving today for a business trip and will be gone until Friday, leaving me on my own for the anniversary. Maybe it's the piece I heard on NPR this morning about grief. Or maybe its that empty place in my heart that should be filled with a little boy, running and laughing with his twin sister.

Luckily my surviving twin has been extra cuddly today, because all I want to do is sit on the couch and hold onto her. I want to hold onto both my girls as tight as I can, because time goes so fast. My pregnancy, my son's death, delivering the twins seems like a lifetime ago. My oldest is finishing up kindergarten and my tiny little preemie, my precious survivor is going to be 2 years old in less than two weeks. Life goes on and while time definitely does NOT heal all wounds, I guess it does have a way of dulling the pain. Some days though, it's not nearly dull enough.

Anniversary approaching...

As we approach my survivor's second birthday and the second anniversary of my son's death, I feel great ambivalence. I don't feel the overwhelming grief that I felt last year. My son's presence or lack there of is less heavy. However, this in and of itself makes me feel sad. Grief doesn't come with a rule book, which each mourn our losses in different ways, but sometimes I feel guilty. Are the choices I've made wrong, have I not done enough to honor my son's memory? Obviously I will never forget and his loss will always be felt, but I desperately want to move forward. For myself, for my daughters, my husband. Selfishly I don't want him to be part of our everyday lives, isn't life for the living? I don't want my daughters' lives to be overshadowed by their missing brother. He wasn't even here, he was stillborn. We don't know what he would've been like, I mourn the loss of what could have been sure, but I don't know if I mourn him, I never knew him.

My husband and I have chosen not to make our son part of our everyday lives. We have chosen not to have elaborate ceremonies to remember. We light a candle on his anniversary and other significant days in the Jewish calendar, but that's about it. My husband, older daughter and I all feel the loss of what could have been. I think we'll always carrier him in our hearts. I'm not sure yet what my surviving twin will think. I don't know if she'll remember him or feel his loss. She's a happy little girl and I don't ever want to burden her with our grief. I'd never hide the loss from her, but I don't want it to shape her.

I'm starting to feel some peace with our choices, but there's that little nagging voice that says you're not doing enough, you're forgetting about him, what kind of mother are you! How do I quiet that voice? That insecurity that some how we're not good enough. I guess I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. On my darkest days I remember that there are two little girls here that need me, that the best way I can honor my son is to be the best mother I can to his sisters. And, most of all that it's ok to be happy for what I have rather than sad for what I don't and if anyone judges me for that, then that's not my problem. Some days it's a lot easier than others. This year I'm working on letting going of the guilt. Now, I just need to figure out how to celebrate my survivor's birthday and mark another milestone that my son won't reach.