Before and After

"Before" was a time of planning, hoping, dreaming and lots of wonders about the future. How were we going to afford childcare for three kids? How were we going to fit them into our car?! Generally everything  you need to know about pregnancy can be read in a book, online or talked about with your friends. I read many books when I was pregnant with Caroline. Less this time around, because so few pregnancy books focus solely on twins--and honestly there isn't much difference. Still the advice is overwhelming. But nowhere was there any mention of all the things that could go wrong. Sure, the chance of miscarriage was significantly higher in the first trimester. But wasn't it supposed to be all unicorns and rainbows after that? The next two trimesters were easy once the morning sickness faded and the preparations for the babies began. And then, near the very end, when the babies were so close I could picture them in their crib and holding them in my arms the unthinkable happens. The one thing I didn't read about in any book, website or talk about with any friends, just as it happened to me--as it happens to thousands of families every year. The babies died before they were even born, and all our hopes and dreams came crashing to the ground. 

There are no guide books for this. Nothing prepared me for how rough some days are. Despite what anyone says about the stages of grief, sorrow is not a simple set of steps that you follow and check of your list. It is a long and winding road. A road with hills and valleys. There are no road signs along the way. The path ahead is slippery, curvy and covered in ice. It does not have an end. 

In life "After", none of the books I read "before" matter. Nothing could have prepared me for the moment I learned my babies were dead before they even had a chance to live. No one told me how it would feel following the death of my babies. No one told me what it would feel like to write an obituary or pick out a headstone. No one told me what it would feel like to say goodbye when we hadn't even said hello. No one told me how it would feel the next time someone I knew had twin boys. No one told me how exhausting it is to cry. No one told me how hard it is to move on.

We have joined a very sad and secretive club. Before we became members we didn't even know it existed. In the days following the death of our sons people we have known for what seems like ages came out of the woodwork to tell us about the children that they have lost. Many others have survived this horrifying ordeal and one day we will wake up and realize that we are surviving too. 

There are many more things that no one was there to tell us. Once the condolences stopped, the mailbox was no longer full of sympathy cards, and the rest of the world returned to normal, people began to glance my way-- judging my pain by appearance alone. Some told me they know how I feel, when I am certain they do not have a clue. Others are afraid to say anything and hope that I won't notice, when what I long for is them to say something, to ask me how I am and say my children's names--because they had names and faces and little baby toes.

And now we know…we know what to say to those who will follow after us. We will never share this wisdom beforehand, while they are glowing with pregnancy awaiting their little miracles. Now I am the angel of death to those who know our story, and in the glow of their happiness I will think, "It could still all go wrong." Most of the time it won't go wrong for them. Then I will wonder Why me? Why did it have to be me? Why does it have to be anyone?