This isn't what we planned.
I'm supposed to have two babies still warm and comfortable in my belly.
I wouldn't be comfortable, but I would take any amount of discomfort or pain to keep them safe.
What happened?
They were only 25 weeks and not ready to enter this cold world.
I can't believe my body failed me, failed them so badly.
The birth of your children should be a beautiful and wonderful experience.
Ours was none of that. It was traumatizing.
I didn't want to push. I didn't want to see them because I knew they weren't ready.
The "what ifs" keep me awake at night.
What if I had done this or hadn't done that? Would they still be ok?
Regardless of how I replay that day or the week leading up to their birth, it doesn't put them back in my belly.
I'm supposed to have two babies. All of my dreams and pictures of my life since we found out we were having twins has revolved around the two of them.
The crushing blow of knowing those dreams of two no longer exist will continue to break my heart.
We are beyond grateful to have one miracle baby still with us, but neither Heaven nor the NICU eases our empty arms.
Our house is still filled with reminders of our excitement for their (much later) arrival.
The clothes, the cards all take me to a time where we were blissfully ignorant...thinking things would be ok.
I have a closet full of maternity clothes that I never got to wear.
It wasn't supposed to be over this soon.
What happened?
I was going to have a baby girl to play dress up with and have tea parties and clumsily try braid her long, dark hair.
I can't believe she came and went so fast.
She was so tiny.
My heart sunk when we finally heard their birth weights. She wasn't even a pound.
She was perfect, though.
I miss her every day.
I miss him every day. Even though I spend my days and evenings with him, waking up every few hours to feed a machine is not the same as waking up to comfort a crying baby.
Whose life is this?
I feel like I'm writing someone else's story.
