I walked downstairs, opened the stairwell door, and it ran me over. There was a solemness to the air, the house temperature just right, and that smell. All of a sudden it was 48 weeks ago, a week after their birth and deaths. I was slowly making my way down the stairs to start another sad day without my babies. I felt like I would never be whole again. That I would never be able to smile or laugh out loud. And I felt lost.
I was, for a few minutes, confused. It was all so real, that flashback. They are all so real again. The same thoughts run through my mind all through the nights again. What if I would have asked this question? What it I would have insisted on staying the first time I went into the hospital? What if they would have diagnosed TTTS during the high-tech ultrasound? What if I had eaten more protein, laid around more? My mind replays the scenes from the hospital all over again. The last one this morning was me getting up to walk after my c-section, finally in my own clothes. The memory of getting in the wheelchair to come home, with empty arms.
Yesterday I was sitting on the couch and the memory of telling Colton and Ethan about the babies hit me. Just out of the blue. Along with that was the memory of Colton walking up to me in the hospital, after they were born, wanting to talk to Lucas and Caleb in my belly. I will never forget that pain, of having to gently push him away from my empty belly.
I miss my two baby boys so much. Days like today it is so hard to grasp that they are really gone. That we've really been through all this. They feel so close, yet so very far away. We were so ready for them, then they were gone and we were left with empty arms and broken hearts.
The clouds are out in full force today. I am sure grief waits for the sun to hide to attack. So heres to hoping the sun with burn through the clouds this afternoon, both outside and in my heart.