miles away.

This entire experience is making me feel hard and ridged.

Only a few things can really snap me out of it.

The never ending energy ball that is Noah and his unwavering and overwhelming love for me and the fact that he has made sure to let me know how very much he missed me while I was in the hospital.

And getting to see Aiden and Evan.

Everything else I feel like I have put up a shield to.

Even Christmas lights make me mad. If you know me, you know that isn’t me.

I know the only reason I have defaulted to this state is because even as cold and hardend as I feel I am only seconds away from breaking down all the time. It is easier to just put up the, “I’m ok” front instead of showing the world how I really feel. If I did that I would never stop crying.

There is always a crack in my voice or a chin quiver waiting around the corner. Whether it be in giving an update on the boys or finding a strip of their ultrasounds from just a month ago when everything was so perfect.

I don’t want to feel this way and hope it will fade.

It is just hard to imagine feeling happy outside of my boys.

Even when the twins have good days, they are still filled with tubes and not snuggled on my chest being rocked to sleep. Leaving your baby or child in the hospital never feels right. There is no good night of sleep when your little one is there, NICU or not.

Even when I think about taking them home I am filled with such fear that something will happen.

It is hard to think about things like Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Years…those were milestones to hit DURING my pregnancy, not their NICU stay.

Kevin and I have both decided this pregnancy will be our last. Three perfect, healthy and happy boys is all we could ever hope and dream for and that is all we want.

Plus the csection was very aggressive and I had to be cut more than once (horizontally and vertically) which just adds more danger if I were to get pregnant again.

I can never go through this again. I can feel myself aging. Like days, sometimes it feels like years are being taken off the end of our lives by just in sitting and staring at their monitors. With every beep or alarm our hearts stop.

So in a way I am mourning that phase of my life. I loved being pregnant. I thought I was doing such a good job at it. I am still in pure shock that I am not pregnant.

When I go to eat a turkey sandwich my brain still tells me, “no deli meat! It’s not good while you’re pregnant!”

I still sleep with my hand on my stomach and sometimes I just cry because there is no kick back, just another painful reminder.

I think if it weren’t for Noah I would completely unravel.

I would move into the NICU. Live in the rocking chair until they could come home and then I would just sit and watch them breathe.

But I can’t do that.

I have to get up. I have to be functional. I have to be a mom still. A good mom. I won’t give myself any other option.

Now I do admit someone might have had a cookie with breakfast and we may have had more fast food in the past two weeks than we have had in a year but I won’t let Noah’s happiness suffer because my heart is suffering.

I can’t let Noah miss out on anything, he is at such an amazing stage, this will be the first Christmas he actually gets and understands I can’t take that away from him or taint it with sadness.

Luckily I married an amazing, amazing man.

The night we came home from the hospital Kevin asked me to stay in the car and ran in the house. I assumed he was just trying to calm the dogs but when I walked in I saw our tree lit up with gifts from people from his work filling under the tree.

He knew how much I loved putting the tree up the day after Halloween and how sad I was I couldn’t this year and he also knew how hard it would be to get me to want to once out of the hospital once the babies were born.

So one day he woke up at 4am and snuck out of the hospital room and went home and took all of our Christmas stuff out and set up the tree and placed the decorations next to it so we could do it with Noah before he went to work for the day.

I don’t know what I would do without my husband.

So even though driving down the Main streets makes my heart ache with all the lights and cheer there will still be light and cheer in our home.

To quote my favorite Christmas song, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Make the yule-tide gay,
next year all our troubles will be miles away.” That is all I can hope for.

We will still make memories because one day this will to all be a memory and I will have all three of my little boys filling our home with love and cheer.

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3 thoughts on “miles away.

  1. I not only understand this but remember it so well…when you were born I felt numb.. the only thing I could feel was you, how much I loved you and you loved me. I “knew” others still loved me and wanted to help but I just couldn’t feel it. In time all of this will fade, you will be surrounded by 3 little boys and you and Kevin will sit back, try to catch your breath and cherish every second of it.

  2. After all that’s happened to you, you might not even remember stopping by my blog, Turquoise Gates. But I’m a fellow Thyca survivor and I’ve had my share of life’s battles outside of thyroid cancer too. I just want you to know I understand the deep cry of your heart and the ache you’re feeling right now and I’m praying for you. There truly are no words and no healing until you are all together. Praying that will be your outcome – and soon.

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