Family Descriptions after Loss

Today, one of the days my heart has been dreading has come. Cohen's preschool is talking about families. He got a note with a little bag of small rocks with instructions to send back a stone for each family member and a family photo. It seems simple enough, right?

 But then I feel it. The heaviness in my heart that we don't have that extra stone. That the pictures won't include our Carter, the other member of our family. Someday when Cohen understands more I will let him decide what and who he wants to tell about his brother. We counted out the four stones to send back to school, feeling the ache in my heart. This may be our first encounter with this, but I know it won't be our last. I don't know how we will handle it in the future, probably however Cohen feels he wants to handle it.

It took me a while to get over the guilt of answering "how many kids do you have?" with the number of my living children. But I reached a point where I didn't need to tell every single person about Carter. I know he is my child and in some ways, I feel like I'm protecting us both by not always delving into his story. There have been times where I have mentioned him and have been so, so blessed by the reaction, stories, or hugs I have received. But not everyone understands child loss (thankfully) and the reactions can be awkward and uncomfortable and hurtful. So I've learned to go with what feels right in the situation. I have a feeling this may become similar in the future for Cohen. But right now, the first time makes me feel that deep longing for my child and how much I wish he could be here counting out family stones with his brother.

Every good and perfect gift

Comes from Heaven above.

We were blessed with twins

To cherish and love.

Born together, to grow apart;

One in our arms, the other in our Heart.

Four years ago today, my water broke. I had already been moved from my room on the antepartum (sit and wait) unit to L&D because my water had also broken the day before. I hadn't slept in days because the boys were continually on heart monitors (and continually coming off). I remember a number of doctors coming in to do an ultrasound, they would look, speak in quiet voices, go find another person to come and look. It seemed like this went on forever until we were finally told that it was time. The twin to twin transfusion which had been holding steady in the less severe stages had now progressed, Carter looked very sick.

Everything we had gone through over the last six months...tests, more tests, funny lab results, a spot on Cohen's heart, a meeting with geneticists, offers to terminate our pregnancy, suggestions to let one of our babies die so the other could live, weeks of bedrest, weeks in the hospital. This was it. Strangely enough, a calm and peace came over me. I can only say that I know that it was God's presence, that he was holding us in his hands the whole time.

The outcome was not what we wanted, hoped or prayed for. We joined the parenthood club in probably one of the most difficult ways possible. The boys' birthday is not one of the happiest days of my life, it never will be. The days leading up to their birthday are generally the hardest I relive all of those moments. But, generally when the day arrives, I am able to find some peace in remembering our Carter and celebrating Cohen.

As I drove home from picking up balloons, some to tie on Cohen's chair and some for Carter's grave, it hit me that I have never once been sad for Carter that he didn't get to experience this life. The sadness comes that we never got to experience his life. I know that being in God's presence and experiencing heaven is a way, way better experience than anything this life has to offer. And I find comfort in that. And that we also have our sweet, amazing four year old Cohen who we love and treasure and teaches us the meaning of strength and resilience every day.

The Loss of "My Twins"

I miss my twins. I want my twins. One of the things I think I will always feel most robbed of, aside from getting to raise my child, is the loss of my twins. At the time we got pregnant and found out we were having not one baby, but two, there was a video going around of a pair of twin boys playing in the kitchen, laughing,  and speaking their own magical language that they both clearly understood. I was so excited to watch that in my own life. I long to see the relationship they would have had with each other, literally a part of each other. Watching them meet milestones, maybe developing their own language, and having that close special bond that doesn't exist anywhere else.

I want to hear the "Are they twins?" and the "How do you do it?" questions. I'm sure I would have gotten tired of answering, but I wanted those things. I wanted to join the moms of multiples club. I wanted the matching outfits, the two cribs, the babies holding hands. The bond that only identical twins can have. I wanted the boys to have built in wrestle buddies, playmates and probably even someone to fight with.

My reality is that people that don't know us, don't know Cohen is a twin. Unless of course I have the generally awkward conversation explaining our story like I did today. A fellow coworker had a family situation and will be off work. Trying to fill her spot, they called me to see if I was available to work next week to cover her shifts. Sorry I can't help, but Thursday is my son's birthday. No, sorry, I can't work Wednesday either. I wish I could help, if it was another week I could. Well, um...(sigh, internal battle with how much to say) my son is a twin. His twin died at birth, so that week is just not a good week for me. 

It will always be a bittersweet day. The day that should have been the best day, the day I became a mom. It should have been filled with squishy baby pictures and smiling faces. By now you know that's just not the way our story went. Instead of people oohing and aahing over our twins, we had a single tiny baby in an isolette and an empty crib at home waiting to be taken down
. Not the way we pictured our twin experience.

I'm thankful for the brief time our boys got to spend together, I just wish they had more. That we had more. My heart grieves that my boys don't get to grow up together. That I don't get to have both my boys as individuals and as twins. Instead of living out the life of having twins, we are watching others raise their twins, feeling the depth of what we are missing out on and hoping that somehow, our boy will forever feel the bond with his twin and that it will bring him hope and strength.

Raising a Twinless Twin - The Next Stage

It's been a few months (um, since before Ezra was born?) that we have gone to Carter's grave as a family. I've gone by myself but we've never taken Ezra and it's been awhile since Cohen has gone. The reason?

I'm too scared.

We are entering a new phase on this journey. Cohen is becoming more aware. He's talking more. We are reaching a point where we are going to have to start explaining more. Of course we've been talking to him about Carter since day one, but I've been avoiding it a bit lately. We don't expect him to understand most of it right now, but someday he will.

Did I mention I'm a bit scared?

I'm scared to hear Cohen say Carter's name now that he's talking. I don't want to have to tell my son about his brother that died. I wish he could just know his brother because he was alive. Playing with him. Sleeping in bed with him. Fighting over toys with him.

I didn't exactly picture my boys being "together" at a grave site. I didn't expect to be raising a twinless twin.

Being a parent is hard. Being a parent of a child we don't get to raise or have a life with feels even harder. I am still trying to figure out how we acknowledge Carter as part of our family and remember him all while missing him terribly.

I want to be able to smile and laugh when I talk about Carter, and maybe some days I will be able to, but I think there will be a fair amount of tears too. I only have a few memories of Carter, and not all of them are ones that I would want to share. I want to be real, but I don't want to put my grief and sadness on Cohen. I want him to know it's okay to be sad his brother isn't here, but that there are a lot of good things that have come because of Carter's life. I want him to know that of course we would rather have Carter here, but that Carter has made lots of good things happen in our lives.

Capture Your Grief: Day 11 - Triggers

Day 11: Triggers

My major trigger is seeing twin boys. It's like a knife in my heart or a punch in the gut, or both at once. Every time. Part of me can't help but stare when I see them and the other part tells me to run and get as far away as I can. I can see twin girls, or boy/girl twins and it's still hard, but obviously the twin boys are a different story. It's a painful reminder of what our life should have been like. What should have been for our boys. They should have had each other and we should have both of them. As much as my grief has changed, this is one thing that still gets me each time.

My babies at 20 weeks. One of the last ultrasound pictures we have of them together. We never got to see them together after they were born. The ultrasounds I have of both of my boys are some of my greatest treasures.

Raising A Twinless Twin

* I just wanted to say thank you for your prayers and comments/messages about yesterday's post.  I should clarify that by non-exciting I didn't mean "bad" changes, just non-exciting in that I didn't think you would be interested! :) It actually has the potential to be some very good changes. I'll keep you posted and we still appreciate your prayers!

Since the beginning of all this, we have always wondered how losing his identical twin is going to affect Cohen. Honestly, we don't know how we are going to raise Cohen as a twinless twin. At this point, we mostly have questions with few answers.

What will it feel like to be a twinless twin? I have heard that single twins who grow up without their sibling said they always felt like something was missing. Is that how it will feel for Cohen? Will he wonder what he's missing out on when he sees other twins with that "special bond"? When I think of twins, I think of this incredible bond between two people. They may have their own language or know what the other is thinking.

I have read stories from twinless twins and they break my heart. One of the things that is the hardest for me is knowing that Cohen's life will probably continue to be difficult. He didn't get to leave his problems at the door of the hospital. While from a preemie standpoint he is doing fabulously, he still has a lot he is going to deal with. How do we raise him not to be a "why me" kind of little boy and instead a boy who can use his difficult beginnings to make him stronger and to help others?

How do we help him through losing his brother? How do we help him to know that he is our pride and joy but that we still miss his brother every day? How will we help him when if wonders why he got to live and Carter didn't? What if it doesn't affect him as much as we think it may?

While some twins never find out that they were in fact a twin until later in life, we don't think that's fair to Cohen. He will know about Carter from as early on as he understands. We have no intentions of keeping the fact that he has a twin from him. This is all such uncharted territory for us and we aren't exactly sure how we will handle it when that time comes. We pray that we will be able to handle whatever comes with grace and wisdom. We just want Cohen to know how much he is loved and that we will support him the best that we can, however that looks.