I had planned on writing a post about our fundraiser…a post about New Year’s and all our hopes for the next year but I can’t.
They are all half written and I just can’t pull them together.
I am just so sad.
I thought I was having a good week. I kept a mainly straight and happy face at our fundraiser. I was so afraid if I started to cry or took a second to be fully present I would start crying and not stop and make everyone feel uncomfortable.
But the fundraiser was so what we needed. It felt so good to just be around people. So many people came out to support us. We were so afraid to go thinking we might make everyone feel weird. We feel so out of our selves right now. In general we feel awkward. Our conversations consist of medical stats and the constancy of poop. We don’t really know how to just be us anymore. Luckily every single person that came somehow knew just what to say and how to be there for us. Each person that came brought a sense of calm, comfort and love to us.
I think it was because there was so much love in that room and all for our boys, all that love let us feel like us again for a little while.
New Years Eve came and we spent the evening with the twins at the hospital. This week Kevin has been taking it all very hard. When we parked at the hospital we spent almost a half hour talking, well me talking to him. He said to me, “I feel like I am losing control of my brain, I am never like that. I am so scared.” For Kevin to say that it cut right to the core, that is a very un-Kevin like thing to say. I tried to make him feel better. When one of us is laying down at rock bottom somehow the other gains strength to help the other.
We spent about an hour with them when we had both realized we both had forgotten to eat that day. It was like once we both could see and hold them and feel that they were ok our brains then decided to take care of themselves knowing the boys were ok.
We had a dinner date in the cafeteria, two deli meat vending machine sandwiches.
Once we went back up to their room I fed Evan and I had an anxiety attack. I had been holding him and when I went to put him in his crib he started to cry. I picked him back up and he cooed and grabbed my shirt and fell back to sleep.
He wouldn’t lay in his crib without crying but every time I picked him up he would grab on to me and fall asleep, just like Noah did when he was so small.
No matter how much I tell myself it is going to be ok. No matter how much my brain tries to make this normal. Nothing can numb the aching of my maternal instinct. Nothing can stop my heart from feeling complete happiness and sadness at the same time when they coo and their tiny fingers wrap around mine seemingly begging me to stay.
I shouldn’t have to leave them. I should be there in the middle of the night when they cry out. I should be there to rock them to sleep. To feed every bottle. I should be able to kiss and love on them whenever I want to, not watch them through plastic panes on isolettes and them tethered in tubes.
I keep repeating to myself that there has to be a plan. There has to be a reason. Everything is how it is supposed to be, that this all happened for a reason.
But how as a mother do I accept a plan with such pain and such trails for my babies? How do I accept this?
Maybe it is hitting harder tonight because it is just me and Noah since Kevin is at work.
I don’t know what it is but God it hurts.