Regression

Do you ever return to that moment when your heart broke? When shock and sadness overwhelm you and you are overcome by the reality of what has happened to you? That was me last Wednesday. I was driving home from work and started getting a little teary eyed.

Getting teary eyed in the car is not unusual for me. I knew these were the kind of tears that need to come out and decided to let them flow. Well, once they started they just wouldn't stop. Luckily, it was a sunny day so my sunglasses concealed my surely bloodshot eyes, but I had to keep wiping the tears off my cheeks before any red lights. I'm always self-conscious about someone looking in my window when I'm stopped and seeing me cry. I wonder what they would think of me.

By the time I pulled into the garage, I was bawling. I just wanted to see my babies. I went inside, let the dogs out, and then walked upstairs. I walked into our study/office and gently picked up the shoebox that contains Holden and Parker's whole lives. I sat down on the floor, the tears still flowing, and opened the box. I pulled out the "It's a boy!" teddy bear I received from the hospital for Holden. The baby blankets they were wrapped in. All my ultrasounds, pregnancy pictures, and all the hospital bands I wore around my wrist from every hospital visit. Then, I looked at their pictures. At their beautiful, tiny, perfect, helpless bodies. All the time I'm trying not to cry on the pictures because I don't want to mess them up.

After I was done I neatly put everything back in its place and went downstairs. I let the dogs in and just crawled into bed. Cora, who everyone says is a momma's girl, jumped up, cuddled right next to me, and started licking my face. I'm sure it was nice and salty for her. It really was what I needed to make me feel a little better. I had to laugh when her tongue started going up my nose. Gross!

Andrew got home soon after that and walked into the bedroom to see me crying. When he asked why, all I could say was "I'm sad." Then he asked why with even more concern. I think he thought something had happened to me. I just said "I miss my babies." And then he had an "oh" look on his face. He crawled into bed too and let me talk and cry about it. When he wasn't responding, I got a little upset. He said he didn't know what to say. I told him to “just tell me everything is going to be ok and that we will have living babies one day and won't always be mourning the death of our children. That it won't always be this hard.” Then he said those are all things he was thinking but didn't say. "Easy to say now after I just told you what to say to me." We laughed. He wanted to let me be sad about the memory of Holden and Parker and not to diminish that by talking about the future. How sweet is that? I really appreciated it but told him sometimes I need to know that he thinks about the future too and is hopeful that things will be better some day.

It felt good to have that deep cry. Sometimes I feel like my sadness is collective. Everyday adds a little more to the collection until I release it. But I'm not supposed to cry because it's been 5 months since my most recent loss. I should be "over it" by now. Except that I'll never be over it and everyday that I'm not allowed to express my emotions, is another day that I'm just waiting to explode. But that's ok. We all need to break down once in awhile and then pick ourselves back up and keep going. I really do hope that someday life will be better.