Held

I've been trying to track my emotions over the last few weeks, and to be honest, I don't entirely know how to do it. I've faced so many bizarre extremes and a plethora of unexpected twists that have backed me into strange corners. So, I decided that I would simply list my thoughts and emotions, and see where that takes me.

But when I started, I realized that my thoughts and feelings are so confused that I don't know where to start.

On Tuesday at exactly 4:50 am, it will have been 4 weeks since I delivered my babies, and I've never even seen their faces. I don't know what they look like, what color their eyes were, if they had my ears like Joseph always hoped they would, and if they had his eyes like I prayed they would. I don't know my sons, and I've felt weirdly guilty about that. You see, my mom was always so good at holding me when something went wrong, and when I think about being a good mom, I think about that. I think about holding my babies when something goes wrong, but I didn't do that.

I'm sure that, at this point, I probably know what you're thinking: it was better that we didn't hold them. They were so small. Their bodies didn't look the way they should have looked. Even the doctor said that seeing their footprints would have been harder on us than not seeing. I know all of that, but it's still really hard.

I really love those boys, and I really miss holding them. I miss being a mom, and I miss the feeling of growing babies inside. Part of me wants to get pregnant as soon as possible, and part of my is afraid of what could happen if I do. I guess we will just let whatever happens, happen. We get the autopsy results on August 27th, and I those before we make any decisions.

Until then, I suppose all I can do is continue to process and grieve everything that has happened, and trust that we do have a future somehow and that my sons, Isaac and John, know how much I love and miss them.