Precious pain

Tonight I’m at a loss for words…my thoughts are cluttered with distant days of sorrow and grief, where visions blaze though my soul telling a tale of love and loss and faith, so just give me minute and I’m sure they’ll come.

On Sept. 15, 2002, my life stopped…just stopped and there was no turning back. No erasing of the pain. No ceasing of the countless waves that would soon envelop me in their mercilessness.

The dark hole that became me grew deeper and deeper and I knew not whether I would ever get out. I couldn’t eat and each breath seemed a daunting chore.

Sleep was my only escape… I danced in my dreams with them upon weightless clouds. One question stood in my mind… why me God? Why my babies? I screamed the words in the middle of the night; but this precious pain was mine to bear.

I’ve been hesitant to share, but now I want to, if only to give hope and a true sense of belief that with time this heart breaking sorrow will subside and life will move along as it should. I want to tell it because I never thought it could happen for me.

Hang on to my words if you choose. I wish to be there for each and every one of you.

So many woman have lost something so precious to us that it takes our breath and every ounce of living strength away and I know exactly how you feel: endless days of dangling on a thread about to break, the dark only growing darker, reliving each anniversary as the years pass, waiting for the next sign to come to tell you, “They’re there with you.”

It could be a breath of air on your cheek as you receive their kiss, something written in the sky, a smell so familiar yet different that each time it comes you just know it’s them there to say, “Don’t forget me.”

I call it their birthday because I believe from me they were born into the kingdom of heaven to become angels with God and I’m grateful for that, yet it’s hard not to be selfish and want them here for me!

I was pregnant with twin boys at 33 weeks and for twins, it’s close to the time of delivery. Everything was moving along just fine.

We were so excited and gave them meaningful names from the bible: Noah and Jonah. How I loved their names. We painted their room yellow with the themes of Noah’s Ark and Jonah and the whale.

Oh boy was I ready to tackle a wonderful new beginning! It was my wish always to be a mother.

My babies were so in tune to me, for when I touched my belly or tapped on it they would tap right back, like we were playing music together and I would smile and laugh. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was their favorite.

Then one day the tapping stopped; I tapped and they didn’t tap back, and I knew something was wrong.

I called the doctor and she told me this often happens because as babies grow bigger they don’t move around much due to lack of space in there. This comforted me and I tried to believe that if she said it, it must be true.

When we arrived at the hospital I had seen the ultrasound so many times and I knew just where to look for their little beating hearts, but lying there on the bed there was no sound. When I looked all I saw was two still circles, so silent and so surreal I just couldn’t believe my babies were gone.

What would I do if I couldn’t ever see their smiles or what would I do if I could never pack their lunches and watch them graduate, or get married, or go on their first date, or write me a poem or sing a song? What would I do if they could never hold me?

Lying there in the dark, wishing I was dead, my blood pressure dropping, I received a miraculous gift from above and saw my boys in a golden light, and after, when I held them in my arms they were the most beautiful, and I cried and prayed for the smiles that would never come.

So today I tell you to hold on to the memory or the feeling, because as short of a time as my sons were here with me and my husband, it was the most precious I have ever known. And I wait for the day; I tell myself our time on Earth is like the blink of an eye compared to the eternity I’ll be spending with them.

And when my husband, my glorious girls and I look up to the clouds and let off two balloons on their birthday, I know they’ll be right there giggling and hurdling through the skies to catch them.

Peace and love and hope for a new light be with you.

Ciao Bella

Posted by Janel M. Harrison on September 13, 2012. Filed under Columns,Girl-2-Girl,Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry