Guilt

This past weekend I took a trip up to the area where I grew up and where William and Ethan are buried. It was a crazy busy weekend celebrating my niece's birthday, a friend's daughter's birthday and making sure important family and friends got to see Maxwell.

It wasn't until I was an hour into the trip home that I realized the one thing I overlooked...I hadn't gone to the cemetery! I drove by after dark when it was closed and blew the twins kisses but I never made it back the next morning. I was talking to my sister when I realized what I had done. The guilt was so over whelming...how could I have done that!?! Did I really forget to go...forget to visit them on one of my not so frequent trips to the area?!?

Yes..yes I did.

I cried practically all of the remainder of the 3 hour drive. There just aren't words for how truly awful I feel about not visiting William and Ethan's grave. It's not like I can go any time.

My sister called me after she knew I was home and gave me the only reassurance possible. My dad had gone to the cemetery not too long after I had left and had a chat with the boys since he wasn't sure if I had gone or not. He explained how busy it was and that he knew they were on my mind the whole weekend. My sister also went for me also, bringing the boys a beautiful flower arrangement in a cute elephant vase. My sons have the best Papa and Auntie! I am so lucky to have them step up when I falter.

The guilt of feeling like a horrible baby loss momma is heavy. I feel terrible and still can't figure out how it's possible I could flake on something so important.

I guess what's done is done. I have a similar weekend next month (another niece and friend's other daughters bdays) and I will not forget again.

The Awkward Pause

Three times this past week I got The Question. The one that baby loss parents dread..."is this your first?"

After all this time I still don't have an comfortable or easy response. Most of the time I say yes because the person asking isn't someone that has any sort of investment in my life or in my sons. I still feel incredibly guilty not acknowledging William and Ethan in that moment. Because of this I realized that every single time I am asked I stop breathing for a second, swallow hard and say that Maxwell is my first or only (depending on the way the question was phrased) and silently think "but he has two brothers in heaven." Who knows if the person posing the question even notices the awkward pause...they probably don't.

Three times last week this happened. It is bound to happen more often now that the weather is nicer and I meet other parents at the park or out and about on our walks. It's not that I want to answer The Question gracefully, because there is never going to be a comfortable way to answer completely truthfully or lack of guilt if I only acknowledge them in my head.

I guess it boils down to that I want all my babies alive. I want to be the frazzled mom of two year old twin boys running circles around the stroller holding their 8.5 month old baby brother. Instead I am the mom snuggling her baby, eternally grateful for the joy he brings, wishing there were two more boys by my side.