It's been awhile. I know. And there is much to post. But how? How do I vent the things that I truly want to say? There aren't words sufficient to express the things that weigh so heavily on my heart and mind. There aren't enough adjectives to accurately convey the emotions that fight for lead position in my daily life.
What I can say is this. I miss my daughters. Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Forever. I miss them. I ache for them. I wish, I dream, I wonder and most of all.......most painfully and sweetly......I remember.
I remember leaving the doctor's office that day thinking this had to be a mistake. I remember walking into the hospital five days later praying to God that it was. I remember crying from a place so deep inside of my soul that until that moment I never even knew it existed. I remember touching my daughters for the first time. I remember kissing them for the last time. And I remember. Coming home. Without them.
Now,three years, seven months, two weeks and three days later......I survive. I function. I live. I listen to people complain about the inconvenience of their children in their lives. I watch parents scream and yell at their children and in some cases become oblivious to their very presence. I read about the mothers and fathers who choose to abuse, rape, abandon and murder their own children. And I wonder. Why? Why were they given those angels when I was forced to say good bye to mine?
Yes,I am blessed. Incredibly and abundantly so. I have six living and amazingly stupendous children. I am blessed every moment of every day that they are present in my life. I have been gifted with the most wonderous experience of watching two of my children grow from infancy into adulthood. I am living in the midst of the joys (and headaches) of two teenaged girls and ALL that that entails. I have been given the most beautiful and precious (and precocious ) elementary aged children to ever walk the planet. (Biased,I know) To be able to count those blessings and enjoy every day that I awake still able to touch each of them is incredible. To still be able to ask "Why me?" in the face of all of that joy seems selfish and greedy. As if what I have been given isn't enough. In truth-it's just that what has been taken away is too much.
Maybe it's that I haven't yet learned to overlook all of the teenaged girls who become pregnant and think it's a fashion accessory or a ransom to hold over their "baby daddy's " head.. Maybe it's that I can't understand the women who give birth and think their job as a mother ends there. Maybe it's that I can't get past the females who get pregnant and immediately think "what can I get out of this"?
Or. Maybe. Just maybe. I miss my daughters.