For Today...

I've been thinking alot about the things I wrote in my last blog entry. Mostly about how life can seem unfair and the unanswerable "why" that we continue to ask. You know, there are alot of people that ask those questions about many different circumstances that come their way. I'm sure each person reading this has had some unfortunate event happen to them or their loved ones.

I guess I've also been thinking about those too innocent to even wonder why something is happening. Maybe those to naive to a standard of living we all experience to have know any different. Not that I believe that people around the world should want what Americans experience as daily luxuries, on the contrary. I'm talking about simple things, clean water, shelter, and nutritional food. In our own hardships and suffering we must remember those who struggle also. For many times their struggle is for life it self.

WHY

This journey of tomorrow, of moving forward, doesn't come without what feels like unexpected U-turns. When you think you've passed through this place before, you find yourself back in all too familiar surroundings. I thought for sure I had already passed through the hills, the ups and downs of my question of "WHY!?" I was making our bed this morning and enjoying my quiet time with the sun pouring through our window. Out of nowhere a rush of tears and unexpected "Why" clouded my heart and my mind. "This isn't fair" I thought, "I would have been so good to them. Why was it that my only time with them in my arms was during their transition from life to death? Shouldn't a mother have more time with her children?"

C.S. Lewis said the following after the death of his wife, "Grief is like a long and winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape...Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences but the sequence doesn't repeat."

As some of the initial tears have dried, I re-read something a wise man named Richard Rohr wrote on grief. "There is no one to blame, there is no one to hate. Although we’ll try in the early stages of grief and suffering, but if you let it keep teaching you, it keeps expanding you and expanding you to the great compassion, where it is not you who understands but you are standing under the mystery. You will be willing to live with hope, which means without total resolution, without perfect closure."

Mourn With Me

A few days after David and I returned home from the hospital with empty arms and broken hearts, David shared this story with me.

"The story tells of a mother whose baby dies. She is so distraught that she carries the dead body strapped to her chest and travels around attempting to find someone who would be able to breathe life back into her beloved infants body.

Eventually she finds a holy man who says that he can help her, but only if she can bring to him a handful of mustard seeds from a home whose inhabitants have not suffered the loss of someone they love.

The woman begins to search but is unable to find any home that has not been marked by the dark shadow of death and loss. Yet, in her futile search something truly amazing happens. For as she hears the various stories of these different people she slowly begins to come to terms with the death of her own child. After a little time she is finally able to let go and bury her infant in the soil of the Earth."

Contrary to what may come natural, giving a word of advice or trying to find the right thing to say, isn't what comforts someone grieving. I have found the arms that aren't afraid of my tears, and the eyes that cry with me to be some of my most safe and comfortable places. Sometimes we need to hear the stories of those who have also walked through the valley of death and dying.

I have found that through the stories of suffering and loss there is also peace. Though it will never make the "unfair", fair again, or answer the deep questions of why, I can find solidarity with others traveling this life. As I open my heart and ears to those around me, I am constantly shown there are many lives that know grief all too well. Grieving is a much lengthier process that I would have imagined. Though warm tears still soothe me to sleep, I am feeling more like myself again.


This photo is from my trip to Wisconsin to see my friend Jodi. Thanks for all the hugs, shared laughs and tears and tell your mom thanks for sharing her Dove chocolates!

By John O'Donohue

No one knows the wonder
Your child awoke in you,
Your heart a perfect cradle
To hold its presence.
Inside and outside become one
As new waves of love
Kept surprising your soul.

Now you sit bereft
Inside a nightmare,
Your eyes numbed
By the sight of a grave
No parent should ever see.

You will wear this absence
Like a secret locket,
Always wondering why
Such a new soul
Was taken home so soon.

Let the silent tears flow
And when your eyes clear
Perhaps you will glimpse
How your eternal child
Has become the unseen angle
Who parents your heart
And persuades the moon
To send new gifts ashore.



This is a blessing written for parents upon the death of their child. I found it to speak to me in a real and touching way. The photo was taken in Italy when I was 3 months pregnant with the boys.

Flowers and Friends

Today has presented its challenges and gifts. I was cleaning my house and found the journal I had kept during my pregnancy. Filled with such hope and anticipation, I wrote everyday during my pregnancy. I was so happy and naive to our reality. It made me upset to see how happy I was. It hurt to be reminded of how I miss them and the excitement that was once mine. Nevertheless it will still be a reminder to the happy moments that they gave to me. I wouldn't have wanted my experience with them to have been spent any other way than happy and excited.



I had held on to now dead and dried flowers for long enough and it was time to throw them out. This brought more tears. A few hours later, my friend came over to get me for a walk and lunch. She is such a gift. As we were getting ready to leave I got a delivery of fresh beautiful flowers from my Aunt and her family. During a day that felt so sad I was still reminded how blessed I am with those around me.

Flowers and friends of the human and fuzzy form...what else could you want when you're sad?

One month ago...

Today marks the first month of our journey without the physical presence of our beautiful babies. Though each day brings another piece of healing, the loss is still very strong. I do feel, however, that they left such a mark on both David and my lives that we can only be fuller and richer because of their impact upon our moment on this earth. We both feel that our hearts are broken for the future we will never experience with these children, but our hearts also recognize the suffering of others in our midst. There are moments when the pain is so deep that I can only think about me, but when some of my pain recedes, I feel pain for the many who have also lost precious life.



These two boys have taught us how to grieve with others and how suffering can be our greatest moments of doubt. These have been our truest moments in self realization, as well as our greatest quest for meaning in this life. I feel that I will never be able to look at this life the same. Though our loss is great, so is the quest that brings meaning. Their gift to us is the spiritual search that has lead to a place of peace.
I’ve heard from others also, that it was in their suffering that they found meaning and purpose in this life. Suffering is a natural thing in this life. We all have to experience our share. I’d like to come out the other side fuller, stronger, and savoring the beautiful things in life.







We would love for you to be apart of our story no matter how far you live from us. I know that many of the important people in our lives will never be able to hold our boys in their arms, but you’ll never let them leave your hearts. A photographer gave us such a beautiful gift the night our boys came and left this world. The gift of a photo, a moment that will be forever in our hearts can now be shared with you.



We named both boys names that represented how we knew them in the womb and through ultrasound and via camera from the laser surgery I had. Quintin was the first one to be born. He was the “donor” twin. Due to his limited blood and fluid supply in the womb, he was always quiet and gentle to his mom. Speedy was always, always moving around. He moved in every ultrasound, during the surgery and all hours of the night he made sure I knew he was there. David and I called him Speedy for a while and when he was born it was the name we wanted to remember him by. Two small babies have left a huge mark upon our lives and they will be carried with us forever.