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.