Business as Usual

Yesterday, I was watering the "Royal Plum" tree that we just planted as a memorial. It has lavender and Coriopsis flowers at it's base...purple and yellow....for my babies. I was going over names in my head for our new baby sheepdog that will soon be here...almost asking my little ones for guidance...thanking them for leading me to a warm puppy for healing. Being grateful for the gift, because, that is how I am seeing it; as a gift from our babies. I was saying the names out loud, to hear how they would sound in the air....Sirius, after the dog star in the heavens? Merlin, for the beautiful magic he is sure to bring our family? Felix, for the luck potion that points Harry Potter in the right direction for answers he MUST have to succeed on his journey? Happy? Lucky? Albert? Owen? Charlie? Baby?....Baby?.........

Tears filled my eyes and I quickly shot the hose up in the air so that little diamond droplets of water would shower my face before my boys, who were happily throwing water balloons at each other wouldn't see that I was crying...again.

I saw the mail lady drive up, and deposit something in the mailbox, so I put the hose down, and wiped my face with my now wet sleeve. I walked over to the mailbox, and opened it up, fully expecting more bills, catalogs and useless coupons for processed food that I don't buy. Instead of what I expected, there was a large box containing formula samples, and a disposable diaper sample. I looked at it for a moment, and then slammed my mailbox shut, walked briskly into the house calling out to the boys that I was going to take a little nap, and that they should stay outside unless someone was bleeding or broken. They laughed heartily at my little command, and I smiled weakly...and went inside to my bedroom, locked the door, and screamed and cursed and screamed some more into my pillow until my throat hurt.

Once done screaming, I started tapping above my eyebrow...an attempt at re-gaining control over my emotions...a technique used for healing trauma...amazingly, it does help! I lay on my bed, looking up that the lavender ceiling that my husband, a man of many many talents, has painted with stars, soft clouds, and a crescent moon...I looked up into these faux heavens, and wondered how long I would get zapped with grief from unexpected jolts that remind me of what I can not have.

Somehow, I was "accidentally" put on the same list as all the other mommies who just had babies when I gave birth to our first dead twin in the hospital, and so, because of that, I get a constant stream of e-mails informing me of my babies age and developmental milestones, a regular supply of plastic bottle samples, formula samples, diaper samples and creams, lotions and baby butt balm that I will not be using. Not that I would have used most of this stuff anyway...I use cloth diapers on my baby's, I breastfeed exclusively and for years, I don't use products on my baby's that have ingredients that I can't pronounce...so, I would have donated these things to the food bank, or teen parent shelter anyway. I wouldn't have kept them even if....even if....

But they remind me that there IS an "even if"....these samples and phone calls with telemarketers who insist I just HAVE to have the newest baby magazine, are a constant reminder that I have dead babies. That Simon and Alexander will never need baby butt cream, or diapers....or anything. It isn't them that needs something...It is ME that needs something. I need them...want them with all of my being. But---I can't have them. No matter how much I want them. No matter how much I cry. No matter how much I BEG to wake up from this hell to find it was all just the WORST dream I have ever had...but only a dream!!

No...the reality is that I will continue to get products for babies I don't get to have simply because our world runs in a "business as usual" fashion. I can write to a hundred companies, but my name is on a list that sells and re-sells to every baby product corporation that wants me to buy their stuff. They will probably keep sending this %#&*! to me for a year or so.

So, I just lay on my bed...tapping above my eyebrow...trying to find my breath again...to steady my heart, ragged and broken, trying to find a happier thought than the one that whispers maliciously "Your babies are dead..." And...there it is...the laughter of my living sons...the promise of my husbands kiss during an evening walk...and the expectation of a little baby Sheepdog arriving at my home on August 14th.

I got up...went upstairs...and made lemonade snow cones for my boys.

The response to my gesture of love was exactly what I needed at that moment..."Mom, you are the BEST!"

This time...my tears were grateful.