Day Four

What if I lose track? ha, I kid. These titles will let me remember the days! So original right? Right.

Last night = hard night for me. I don't know why. Well, I have an idea, but not sure why I let it go so far. I am very grateful for my life. More than most express to me anyways. I sat on my couch crying, and then on the phone with my husband crying while I was in bed last night. The tears just wouldn't stop. I wanted to get my daughter out of bed and hold her tight. I wanted my husband to come home from work and hold us both. Rough night.

Through the whole month of December, I had a TON of anxiety over the holidays. I didn't know how to be strong, to be a beacon of light, to be encouraging, to be the word of God to others around me, to be positive, but still mourn my children. Miss them. Be angry that they wouldn't be with me on Christmas and New Year's. I didn't know how to do both. Now, I realize, too late....you can't be both. I don't need to be both. I need to let God move and work in me, and not worry about those around me at some points. I was so worried that I would look like I didn't have faith or didn't love God, or didn't live in His word, that I ignored my feelings welling up inside. Christmas was pretty good, so was the New Year's holiday. I got through it easier than I thought I would. I know some of it was prayers from people who care and thought of us, some was from God knowing my needs for each moment, and some just because I'm good at stuffing things down, pushing them aside. It all broke through though. In the form of uncontrollable sobbing. I miss my babies. I miss what I am missing out on because they aren't here. Baby's first Christmas, smiles, rolling over, eating foods, growth spurts, spitting up, sleepless nights, bath time, etc.

I check on my daughter every night before I go to bed. I kiss her head, pull her blanket over her, and place my hand on her back or belly to feel her breathing. Every night. For 19 months and 1 week, to the day. I walked out of her bedroom last night, pulled her door slightly closed behind me, and looked to my left. Bad idea. It's the empty nursery. The door was shut. I thought how I should be going in there next to check on the triplets, and snuggle them in with their blankets, kiss their foreheads, and place my hand on their bellies to feel them breathing. Punch in the stomach. I pulled their ashes off the shelf and held them tight. I kissed their cold metal urns a bit longer than normal. I crawled into bed and called my husband. Weeping.

Grief is funny. One day, everything is going well. Tears don't come easy, smiles do. Then, some days it's so hard to smile, and tears don't stop. It's a life process. I know it will never be over on this earth. I will always think of my children that aren't on earth with me. I will always think about what they would be doing if they were here with us now. I will always look at my daughter in awe of how God created her, took the time to make each feature of her face, each characteristic of her personality, each hair on her head. I will always appreciate the cruelty of this earth, and how at any moment life could change drastically. I will breath it in. I will picture my firstborn son with a coy smile on his face, like he was planning something funny. Jokester like his older sister. I will picture my 2nd daughter's peaceful face, a slight smile, with her arms across her chest. She was so beautiful with her uni brow and bald head. Her deep breath, though peace filled her face. I will picture my baby boy, his arm behind his head. His mouth open with his lips curled up smiling. Taking a deep breath but still looking at peace as well. They took life and death both gracefully. I love them deeper than I ever thought I could love. Taking each day, one deep breath at a time. Facing my heart, my feelings, not stuffing them down. I don't care who looks at me weird, or thinks negative thoughts because I love my "dead children". I am sure there will be many more hard nights coming. I'm ready though. Or as ready as I can be.