From the bottom of my heart...

I keep asking, wondering, pleading to understand. I keep screaming, sobbing, searching for answers. Amongst it all...gifts surround me and embrace me. This morning, a honey yellow card arrived from a friend I've never seen...Thank you Steph, for remembering my babies in so many ways...Thank you for holding my hand. Recently, a card with an image of a Sea Turtle graced my world...from a soul sister in Maine. Thank you sweet Liz. I have a beautiful collection of pictures, reminders, figurines, stuffed animals...and reminders of love from all over the country. Thank you...each and every one of you....for remembering. This afternoon, a box arrived from Florida...from another sister in loss. It contained two perfect little wooden carvings....

of Simon and Alexander remembered from the other side of the United States....tangible figurines of love, and sweetness. My heart is overcome....Thank you dear Marlo.

Thank you....all of you. For all the mementos of love that you share with me. Thank you for remembering my little ones with me. Thank you for reminding me that I am not alone. I am forever grateful to you all...my sisters and brothers in life.

hijacked without ransom

Sometimes, when I tell our story of losing Simon and Alexander to someone, they sit there with their mouth hanging open in horror and wonder and then limply say "Sara...things like that don't just happen to everybody..." They are, of course, not referring to the fact that babies die. Because...that seems to happen a lot more than anyone wants to admit. No, they are referring the the constant connections, interwoven understandings and miracles that persist all around our experience of Simon and Alexander. They are referring to the fact that they think that most people have pretty normal experiences overall. Even in loss, which feels anything but normal.

So I sit here quaking inside feeling this build up of questions such as "what good are miracles if your babies are still dead at the end of them?" "What is the point of seeing connection if it doesn't bring them back?" "Does knowing that my babies are waiting for me in a field of golden flowers make this life without them any easier?" and most repetitive...."WHY did it have to be like this?"

I know it isn't common in our culture to be able to see between the cracks of this world into understandings of spirit. I know that my studies of psychology would suggest delusion, hallucination....and if I was the only one experiencing this in my home, I'd wonder about it myself. But, with my husband and children by my side walking through it all with me with the same wide eyed wonder, I know it's more than that.

I don't know what to think of it all.

I don't know where to put it.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.

Because, in the end, my babies will not laugh in this world. They will never dance around my feet in anticipation of chocolate covered spoons from birthday cake. They will never fall asleep in my arms. They will never be alive in this world.

It should be comforting to me that I know that though their bodies are gone, that they live on. But I'm greedy.

In all my parenting adventures, I've always been greedy with my babies...holding them close to me....never leaving them....rarely sharing them with even grandparents.
Greedy for their smell, their softness...never wanting to miss a sleepy smile or a new moment of discovery. Being unable to share life with my twin babies is unacceptable to me. I can't seem to be happy with fleeting moments of connection to them only in spirit. I can't seem to be satisfied with momentary miracles, no matter how special or unusual.

Maybe I'm being taught to share...maybe I'm being shown how to deal with impermanence....maybe I'm to accept that life is not just what we see here on earth, and is instead everlasting. My babies talk to me in beautiful ways on a regular basis, but I still stop my feet in agony because I can't hold them in my arms. I feel angry, greedy for their lives, lost.

But...mostly, it simply feels like I've been robbed.

Strange happenings...

What is the chance of strange occurrences happening multiple times?

Is it still CHANCE when the odds are defied?

I'm struggling with a mild concussion from stupidly hitting my head HARD against my new computer desk corner. really really hard. But, it isn't the concussion that caused what happened this afternoon. I'm not crazy. Yet.

Made lunch for my 4 sons....hungry boys....was frying turkey sausage, toasting toast, making juice...(yes...it sounds like breakfast...but it was a lunch offered in apology for having served them lumpy cream of rice this morning. (Bleck!) Began the cracking of eggs to fry in the pan. A double yolk appeared. I smiled softly thinking of Simon and Alexander....because as mentioned in my previous post...today was the beginning of it all. All the loss...all of the horror...all of the miracles, sad...but still present. I cracked a second egg.

It was a double yolk too. I stopped for a moment. a lump in my throat.

Cracked another...just to be sure I wasn't seeing things, even though they were sizzleing there in front of me.

A double.

I flipped them out of the pan and started cracking more. Another double.

And another! AND ANOTHER!

Eight double yolked eggs.

EIGHT.

It was too weird to ignore.

My husband called to tell me that his first three clients of the day were women that had lost babies.

And I told him about the eggs.

And I'm looking into the heavens to ask my babies....are you just telling me your still with me? What are you telling me sweethearts? I need you. Not just in eggs! I just NEED you!!!

Oh god...I'm so broken.

Just like the eggs.

my heart is breaking all over again.

I remember this day, one year ago.

I remember waking up, knowing you were gone, and that today I would have to push you into the world against all of my will for it to not be true.

I remember walking into the hospital with my husband in a state of disbelief...praying that I would wake up, and end this horrible nightmare. My prayer wasn't answered.

I remember the beauty of a bowl of bright orange kumquats and brilliant Gerbra Daisys and the sad eyes and attempted bravery in the smile of my sweet friend.

I remember the hospital room. The nurses. The little sign on the door that warned all who would enter that this was not a happy place of birth, smiles, and expectation.

I remember the tears.

I remember the pain in my heart, so terrible I hoped I would die too.

I remember my husband singing our song into my ear...giving me the strength to push him into the world that he would never see.

I remember the groggy feeling of morphine in my veins...morphine I couldn't process. Morphine that put me into shock...morphine...that almost killed me.

I remember the brilliance of the golden field that I held you in. I remember your love...your words. I remember the beauty of your purple aural halo....I remember the pain of being torn between a world of spirit, and my earthly home.

I remember you. I remember how beautiful you were. So tiny...so perfect. You looked like your sweet daddy. So beautiful. I held you for 15 hours......only 15 hours....it wasn't long enough.

I didn't know you had a twin who would rest within me for a month....waiting...waiting...rotting.

I didn't understand why I had to loose you leaving me holding a little blue blanket with the sweet smell of you... swaddled around the silly "platypuck" we had bought you for Easter....I didn't know that the plush purple and yellow duck we had bought with such joy was really a gift from you...to me.

I remember that day, a year ago...with painful clarity.

My sweet little men...how I love you.

I feel so betrayed by creation.

I feel so desperate.

I hear your brothers in playful battle outside, fully equip with foam swords and laughter...and I wish you were here to clap your little hands over their silliness, alongside your twin brother that we would never see. I wish you had seen the world you were so wanted in. I wish you were here nursing at my breast...with your brother...alive.

Instead, I'm left with only tears and longing. My brave front completely crumbling in the memories of who you might have been. Wishing I had a real sword to waive in the air in screaming fury, chopping apart the wind that stole you away....

Didn't you know how much I wanted you both? Didn't you want to stay with me? With your daddy? With the brothers that wanted you so much...?
Why did you leave? Why did you come to us at all if you weren't going to stay with us? Why did you leave?? It seems so unfair from every angle. I miss you both.. baby boys.

Alexander...Simon....I don't understand.

I have to trust that you both knew what had to be.

I have to trust that there is some answer that I can't see.

I have to...because there is nothing else.

Today, I'll go to the gully...I'll place my hands on the place where your ashes have seeped into the dirt...and I'll water the tiny yellow flowers nearby with my tears.

I'll keep moving forward...toward you. Always toward you.

This day...one year ago....was the saddest day of my life. Days have melted into a year. Gray has littered my hair. The corners of my eyes are raw and cracked from tears. The woman I was....is gone. You took her with you. Now I'm just a shell that tries to pretend I'm still me.

Your older brothers...they need me....but I'm so broken. I try....but I need your help. I'm so lost without you. You chose to leave...you made me stay....but I'm not REALLY here....not really.

Help me find the way back to myself.

Help me understand how to love you without losing myself.

Help me grasp a plan to go forward in joy.

Help me to trust this plan which seems WRONG on every level.

Help me to find the way back....

I'm lost.

And I miss both of you so.

Just what I needed today...

Early this morning, at around 3 am, Ferdinand woke me up with a persistent adamant desire to be let outside. I groggily got up and let him out and headed back to my warm bed, but he starting barking as loud as he could...or at least, it sounded particularly loud considering the hour of blackness that surrounded our neighborhood. I trudged back up the stairs muttering to myself about "stupid dogs" imagining him barking at nothingness and shadow. I stepped out onto the front step and tried to focus my bleary eyes on where the barking was coming from while demanding in a hushed voice that he needed to "stop it!" But...something was strange. half of my new 6 foot high bamboo fence was GONE. I had just installed it 2 months ago, and now....it was gone. My heart sank..."What the F(*%$!" I ran toward where it had been, and saw that the portion that seemed to be missing was laying in the street, cut down! Ferdinand was barking like mad, and I realized that he had caught the person doing it in action before they could cut down the entire stretch of fencing. I hugged him..."What a GOOD dog! Good job baby!"

I ran in the house to get my sleeping husband so that we could put it back up in a haphazard way before it was run over by the morning traffic. We worked quickly in the dark, trying to figure out why someone would do something like that...was it just mischeivious vandalism? Was someone trying to steal the rolls of bamboo for their own use? Why do people attack other peoples personal space? Thank goodness for BIG, SMART, WONDERFUL dogs!!!

Once the fencing was up again, and the adrenaline started to ease, we brought our Big wonderful watch dog in the house and admired how he plopped down with an "Oooomf"--the satisfied sound of a dog that knows he's done a good day's (and night's) work. I closed my eyes to images of baggy pants and hoodies cutting down the fencing that I had worked tirelessly to put up....now I had to do it all over again...but with thicker wire, and much much more of it!

I woke up feeling a combination of loneliness and hope; a wistful feeling that was permeated by the rays of sunshine blasting in through the cracks of my bedroom curtains.

It's Saturday and my husband and I were to go on a walk in a nearby meadow where the buttercups and bluebells are starting to erupt. Blue birds in a vibrant shade of Indigo were flitting about, singing their song of springtime glory and Felix and Ferdinand were playfully romping around the field showing off their puppy souls with delight. We talked about the purple and yellow flowers in the field, about Simon and Alexander, about how wonderful it was to have such perfectly perfect dogs to ensure protection and vigilance to things we cannot see or hear with human eyes and ears.
We talked about the incredible things that are happening in our government right now, from helping people stay in their homes to attacking the unregulated predators of the private student loan business. We addressed the effects of stress and strain on even the most loving relationship, and held each other close in the midst of birdsong and whispering breeze.

Turning back toward home, we talked about the mindfulness that occurs when walking a pair of big dogs as opposed to walking alone; because you must be in control, you must be alert...and peaceful. They can feel your energy, and walk more easily when you are in control and at peace. We came to the fence, which was wobbly and ill-placed now as a result of our inability to really "do it right" at the witching hour of 3 am.

Ty left to record a CD with his band, The Voodoo Horseshoes, and I turned on the crock-pot that contained last nights veggie soup. I came downstairs to my bedroom/office, turned on the treadmill and computer and started walking my way through emails, face book posts, and newly commissioned writing assignments. I noticed that Waterfall Angels was announcing new photos and started admiring the beauty of Rainbow Falls....and then...I realized that they were there too! Simon and Alexander....were at Rainbow Falls.







Seeing their names, remembered in such a beautiful place, meant the world to me. That selfless deeds like this are happening in my world, given by dear people who give simply because they know how much it means...well...it counteracts the acts of selfish disregard that are found in other pockets of time. It laughs at the vandal who spent time breaking something down that I built to create a sense of space and privacy for my family, and shares something beautiful instead. Thank you. Thank you for making this moment so precious. Actions like these are powerful testaments of the beauty that humanity has to offer...it is special, and reminds me that we can each do a little something to truly make the world a better place.

Before you were gone...

The sun is shining outside; Just like it was last year.
The birds are singing outside; Just like they were last year.
The breeze is cool and inviting; Just like it was last year.
The trees are beginning to swell; Just like they were last year.

Last year, I was in love with my swollen pregnant belly...full of twin babies I was unaware existed. Last year, I felt the laughter that came with understanding I would always be the mother of sons. Many sons. I admit that I felt like a goddess. My glowing round belly the epitome of life incarnate.

Excited to know my family was growing.
Excited to know that my husbands book was ready for release...ready to be born. "Being Ourself"...the compilation of 10 years of hard work, spiritual surrender, and hope.

Trusting that there was a plan.

Almost a year has passed, and in looking back, I wish I could have known that my days with my pregnant belly were to be cut short. I wish I had known that I was the mother of twins. I wish I had known.....so much more than I knew.

But I didn't know.

I didn't know.

No one knew the real plan that would be unfolded in only a matter of days.

Now I stand, days away from the date that marks the complete upheaval of our lives...and there are no signs....no signs except for the heaviness of grief that trails on. No signs except for the raw corners of my eyes, and the quaking feeling that ebbs and flows within.

Yes...I smile more.
Yes...I am functioning "well".
Yes...my living children are laughing upstairs,
and Big shaggy Sheepdogs are peacefully in slumber nearby.


But the book....is still waiting for attention. Hoping that we have not let too much time elapse...hoping that our losses did not kill that beautiful book along with them. Hoping that all the hopes of last year are not completely dead. Hoping that there is hope.

Our babies. Simon and Alexander...gone. I remember how beautiful and happy you were in that place of golden flowers. The place between life and death. You showed me there was something else....something real. There you dance and play...waiting...waiting....

My heart is still beating.
My body still has hunger pains.
I still want to laugh.
I still enjoy the ecstasy of true, steadfast love.
I still walk forward.
every day.

every day.

But you are gone.

every day.

And because of this...every day contains a hole.

But the sun IS still shining.
And the birds ARE still singing.

And I am still here. Without you.

But here, just the same.

Awakenings...

Anne. Alianna. Lilliana. Rosella. Daisy. 

These were the names we chose if we were surprised by the presence of a tiny pink bundle of girl-ness. Even now, when I look at my sons I can see how those names would have fit them well, if they had been female. They fit the feminine side of their maleness, if that makes sense to anyone....

For the past several weeks, I've been trying to remember the name we had chosen for Simon and Alexander...before we knew we had twins...before we knew they were boys. But, there was a void. A simple blank spot. Amnesia. It was gone.

And that empty place where that name should have been was completely and totally agonizing.

I kept running through in my mind, knowing it had been important...knowing there had been something about the name that connected all the dots in the end. Yet, it was gone.

The idea that I could have forgotten something, ANYTHING, about them....well....it made them seem so far away. I knew they weren't girls, so it wasn't like I forgot their names were Simon and Alexander...but, in a way, it was like forgetting part of who they were just the same.

I didn't mention it to my husband, who could have set me straight in a heartbeat, because I didn't want him to know the truth......I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten the name. It was gone.

So, instead, I struggled in silence. It was gone, but I was searching for it. I was searching for them.

Two nights ago, my husband and I did a little visualization together. We imagined, side by side, a big green field with trees all around the borders. I listened to my husband as he described the big rock in the field, the golden dandelions, the butterfly's...and then he asked me what I saw walking out of the trees, into the field. In my minds eye, I saw a princess...a big puffy princess all flouncy and rosy. She skirted across that field with a bounce in her step...we giggled together at the idea. My husband described a giraffe loping, it's long legs giving the illusion of moving slowly while the truth being that it was covering ground quickly. We admired the beauty and grace of that giraffe together. Then, I watched a small critter move under the grasses in such a way that you knew something was there only because the tall grasses parted, just so. My husband saw a lion, and roared with it, enjoying it's strength and confidence. Then, I saw my sheepdog puppies, bouncing all around the field in total bliss and rambunctious pleasure. I was thoroughly engaged in the enjoyment of this meditative journey through visualization.

Then, my husband took my hand...and told me he saw Simon and Alexander. With Golden brown hair, dressed in purple and yellow...he started crying with me as he described them one with silky smooth hair, the other with thicker wavy hair. Similar, but not identical....he described them as I had seen them in my near death experiences...exactly as I saw them in the golden fields of the spirit world. Exactly as they looked in the field we were visualizing together. We sobbed together, watching them walk...we sobbed together, knowing we couldn't make eye contact with them....we sobbed together knowing they were with us, and yet....not.

It was profound....

It felt....real.

Following that, in the embrace of love, A flash of golden light came to me, and in the light...was the name.

Sage Ella.

Two names....

Two names found in a dream before I knew I was pregnant.

Finding out we had twins, the name made sense....It was Sage AND Ella....just as Simon Alexander became Simon AND Alexander.

It filled my heart to remember Sage and Ella....to find Simon and Alexander.

They felt so close to me...and I knew I had found them once again in my heart, close to me as the anniversary of losing them approaches.

I feel as if a wall that has separated me from my little ones has developed a window. A window through which we can see each other in spirit.

Sage and Ella.

Simon and Alexander.

Yes...the names do fit.

A wholeness has been found in a void.

I am not alone.
My babies are with me.

Thank you EVER so much!!!

For your generous stories...for your strength. Such a hard road to walk....but thankful for sisters to walk it with. Thank you so much...

Research on Loss...please help!

Dear wonderful followers, sisters, friends.......

First, I want to thank you for reading. Something about knowing that people are out there caring about my reflections makes me feel less alone. You are special to me,even if you are silent.

Second, As a psychology student, I've been trying not to drop the ball in my studies. Naturally, I've come to be intensely curious about reactions to loss or trauma...hummmmm...I WONDER why? As such, I am currently doing research for a paper to be presented in my grief, loss and bereavement class for Grief counseling and Grief therapy.

I need your help.

If you have suffered the trauma of a miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, please take the time to copy the below list of questions and attach it as a comment. Also, if you could include a brief bio of your loss, it would add mounds to my cause. I promise to keep your identity confidential, and am ever so grateful to all of you for your help. Please understand that you do not not not not not have to have had therapy for your loss. I am interested in how women cope with their grief, and this is only a small sample of the questions I actually wonder about.

I have almost reached my year anaversary for losing the first of our twins, little Alexander...and I've been having a hard time pressing forward in this semester. I really appreciate all of you for helping...please don't feel you have to if it feels too raw. ((HUG))

Interview Questions: Please start with a short bio of your circumstance of loss.

1. Did grief therapy/counseling help directly after your loss?

2. How did your coping style differ from your spouse? If
noticed, how did that difference affect you?

3.Research suggests that
parent's often grieve differently. Did your appreciation/understanding for your spouse's grieving style change with time?

4. At what point did you feel that your grief was the most intense?

5. Did you ever catch yourself feeling happy, okay, or positive in any way and then feel guilty about it? Did you feel that you had to be in pain to be faithful to the loss?

6. What words and actions were helpful from friends and family; what words and actions were hurtful?

7. It is generally considered a myth that couples divorce after loss of a child--though most people think the opposite is true. Did you ever feel that your marriage was in trouble or unbearable?

Thank you ALL....You make each step a little easier to take. ((HUG))

If you were here...

If you were here I would have given both of you a panoramic sugar egg made with all my love to enjoy...Instead...I give it to your memories.



I would have loved to see your twin faces open in wonder to see a tiny rose inside hiding away...just as you once hid inside of me.



I would have held your chubby hands as you both learned to take your first steps. This would have been a time of such laughter. We are trying....trying to find the way without you....I realize that in being unable to hold your hands, I am groping for balance. Maybe it would have been you hold me up....maybe I need your heavenly help to take more steps...



I would have held you close each and every day. Now I can only hold you in my heart, and it aches from the pain of losing you both.



In my heart....you will always be the gifts I never got to open. Precious gifts of eternal beauty. Held in my arms for only moments...held within forever.

Sweet Simon, Beautiful Alexander--This should have been your first Easter, a purple and a yellow candle will burn all day for you both.

I am thinking of you. I love you.

Always.

It's no joke.

April 1st 2010.


It is April Fools Day.



I've always loved a good joke.

But I'm not laughing today.

My 11 year old son came in my room this morning where I was reading and said with a sad look on his face "Mom...I accidentally stepped on Spyro." Spyro is my 6 year old sons little silver ferret. I jumped up in horror and cried out "Oh my god! Is he o.k.?!" and I started to cry.

His little face suddenly opened up in horror..."No mom...NO...he's o.k...April Fools Mom! I was just joking..."

I sat back down on the bed with tears on my cheeks. My son ran over to me and hugged me saying over and over that he was so sorry.

A joke.

Just a silly joke.

It's April Fools Day after all; and I KNEW it was April Fools Day, I'd been trying to think up silly pranks to play on the boys all night. Plotting. I'd sat down to breakfast with them all after giving them cereal and sat down at my spot with a huge plate of gorgeous strawberries. Their cereal looked quite dull in comparison. My 13 year old had raised his eyebrow and said "You get THAT and we get cereal??" I smiled sweetly and said "Yup." as I popped a big one into my mouth. But...I couldn't keep it up. The looks of injustice on their face made me giggle out a hearty "April FOOLS!" to them as I evenly distributed the strawberries into their cereal to shouts of joy. Ha ha....April Fools.

I could lay out the joke...but I couldn't take one. The idea of Spyro's little back being crushed by the heaviness of an 11 year old kid put me instantly into a panic. My nervous system screaming that I can't have ANY more loss! NOT ANY!

But it was only a joke.

My son felt terrible. A joke gone horribly wrong. I felt even worse than he did...because I had ruined his very well done joke with my sudden tears.

It's the way I am lately.

Later on, My 13 year old told me I had a booger on my shirt. I bought it....took my shirt off just to be sure...he thought it was HILARIOUS. gack! Even later in the day, my 6 year old who had been happily saying April fools jokes about anything and everything told me after I dropped off his brothers at Aikido that he had to throw up.

"O.k. sweetie...I get it...April fools silly boy!"

Nope.

He was serious. And so was the mess.

sigh.

On Monday, I sat in a waiting room while two of my children had their teeth cleaned and examined. Ferdinand lay curled up at my feet in puppy bliss looking very handsome in his new hair cut and snappy service dog vest. I looked out the window at the passing cars in the rain and waited. And waited. All of a sudden this big loud woman...well...o.k...she wasn't BIG...she just felt big. Her energy was big.

ANYWAY...we shall all agree that she was at least L O U D.....

She came in and was discussing all of her many "problems" with the secretary. This had gone wrong, and that had gone wrong. Her dry-cleaning wasn't done right, her cleaning lady was on vacation, she had to drive a rental car because her car was in the shop.....lots of problems. She waived to the secretary in an exaggerated way and said "But I don't worry about any of it...God doesn't give us more than we can handle!"

And at that moment my throat was blocked and a tiny earth quake started to tremble in my gut. I looked down as I felt my eyes fill with tears and I concentrated on the ugly pattern in the carpet with all my strength.

God doesn't give us more than we can handle?

BULLSHIT!

The innocent little catch phrase felt like daggers in my heart.

BULLSHIT!

I know LOTS of people, myself included, who have been given MOUNDS more than they can handle!

I sat there quaking inside...trying to breathe. To simply BREATHE took all my willpower.

Ferdinand looked up at me, cocking his head back and forth, sensing that something was very wrong with me. "It's o.k. Ferdinand....It's o.k..." He didn't seem all that convinced, and started licking my hand. It's something he does when he's worried about me, or at least, that IS how it seems.

His warm tongue was very soothing. (and that sentence makes me snicker....)

I was able to gather my emotions just in time as the dental hygienist asked me to come back to talk to the dentist about my children's teeth. I plastered a smile to my face and walked back with my dog. My wonderful, wonderful service dog.

It's April Fools Day. I played a prank on my children, I had a prank played on me...and people all over the world are telling each other that God won't give them more than they can handle. What a joke.

But, it's really not very funny.

Not at all.

Or maybe....

maybe it IS funny.

Maybe I just don't understand the joke.