Voices from the past

When I was a little girl I used to dream about hearing my father's voice. I dreamt of what it would sound like when he would pick up the phone and how happy he would sound to talk to me. I was a little girl. Innocent. Naive. Silly. Unknowing.
On my tenth birthday my mom asked me what I wanted and I told her that what I really, truly wanted was to talk to my daddy on the phone. I had never met him. Never seen his face. Never heard him say my name. And I longed so much to speak to him. So she took me in the kitchen, handed me the receiver and dialed the number. I remember being so nervous- in a happy, excited way. It played out in my head and all the possible endings were happy. I was wrong.
"Hello". It was him.
"Gene? Is this Gene?" I asked sheepishly. I was so nervous. So scared.
" Who is this?" There was something in his voice immediately. It was noticeable and it tied me in knots right away.
" Hi dad. This is your daughter. This is Jeanie."
Long pause.
" Who is this?" He demanded this time. His voice was even and very quiet now.
 I was nearly in tears when I answered again.
"Dad. Gene. This is your daughter. This is Jeanie."
Long pause.
"You have the wrong number. Don't ever call here again."
And then the line went dead.
I'm not really sure how long I stood there. How long I cried or if I really cried or just felt like crying. I just remember feeling more pain than a ten year old should feel or was equipped to process. I never heard my father's voice again after that day. He would never agree to speak to me or meet with me and even when the doctors told him several years later that he had only weeks to live, he wasn't brave enough to face me and allow me the chance to get to know him. He died when I was 17 and with him went any chance of my ever getting to hear my daddy's voice.
Or so I thought.
Last year after many years of searching family records and researching my biological father's history I "met" a wonderful lady named Katie. She lives in Ohio and her husband just happens to play and sing in a band with this incredible man named Kenny. Kenny, as it turns out was a bandmate and former best friend of my father. Katie put me in touch with Kenny and his lovely wife and through several hours of conversation I now "know" my father. Kenny's wife even dug up an old OLD promo shot of my father and allowed me to have it copied so I have a photograph of him.What an incredible gift these people have given this total stranger who just popped up into their lives one day!! And it gets even better.
During one of those conversations with Kenny and his wife they mentioned something about records. It turns out my father had recorded and released two 45's in 1960. Who knew?! Through months of research and digging I found two different eclectic record collectors who actually had copies of them and they sold them to me. So I became the proud owner of my father's records. Of course...without a record player-I STILL couldn't hear his voice!!!
In May we travelled home to Ohio for the weekend. In my mother's sunroom we sat with her record player and my father's records. And there....in that room.....that sad, broken ten year old little girl got to hear her daddy's voice. And it was wonderful.
Today......that little girl is listening again. Katie sent me a message a couple days ago and asked if I would call her. It seems that she hasn't stopped looking for people who knew my dad. (I love that woman!) Seems there is a man named Sammy and his wife who knew my father and played music with him sometimes. Katie had talked to him and Sammy seemed to recall having an old cassette tape somewhere that they recorded sitting around the kitchen table one night. Well, turns out he dug it out....gave it to her and Katie's husband Perry made a CD and they needed my address so they could send it off to me.
So ...... here sits that little girl.......with tears rolling down her cheeks......listening to her daddy play his guitar as he sings 29 songs in such a beautiful voice. There's no anger in his voice. There's no secrecy. And there's no pain. And I don't think I can ever possibly thank Sammy, his wife, Katie, Perry, Kenny or his wife enough for the gift they have all given me. They gave me something that I thought died when I was 17. They gave me the chance to know and hear my daddy.

Five Days

Five days. It's five days from now that will mark the sixth anniversary of the day my daughters were born. Six years ago on THIS date I was told they had died. And I waited......five days. For five days life for everyone else continued........but for me-it stopped. In that five days I cried, I sobbed, I begged and pleaded and even negotiated with God and I all but refused to leave my house. For five days I pretended that the doctor was wrong and imagined that on the fifth day I would arrive at the hospital and they would all discover their mistake. I dreamt I would bring home two precious and perfect little girls in spite of what they said,what I knew and what was real. For those five nights I lie awake willing my stomach to move indicating life within.......but it didn't.
In five days my living children will do as we have each year.....we will sing, we will laugh, I will cry and we will all remember. My oldest sons will remember the siblings they never met, they will call their mother and let her know they are thinking of her and love her and they will again be reminded of the fear and helplessness they felt watching their broken mother lie in her bed,curled in a ball and unable to move. My oldest two daughters will talk of how tall their sisters might be now, which one would be the "leader" and will remember how briefly they knew the excitement of knowing they would have twin sisters to love on. (They girls didn't know I was pregnant until two weeks before the twins died. They had been kidnapped by their father and only returned two weeks before Chloe and Zoe died.) Lily will ask again why Chloe and Zoe had to die and remember how much she was looking forward to playing mother hen to them both until they were taken from all of us. Georgie,who was not yet two at the time-will again ask why he was never able to meet his baby sisters, tearily remind us all how badly he wants to be a big brother and how it isn't the same being a big brother to sisters you can't actually touch and will remind us all that someday-we WILL get to see them. In Heaven.
Five days from now we will endure another birthday-without them......but there are things that will happen before we reach that day. There will be tears shed on the first day of school when, instead of walking four children to school and leaving in tears as I say "have a great day" to my new kindergartners I will only be sending two children and will watch wistfully as the other kindergarten moms and dads tear up at the pending day long separation. There will be moments of wonder at what they would look like, how tall they would be, what their personalities would be and how incredibly loud and chaotic this house might be.....if they were here.
And there will be days like today. Days when I sit down to watch a movie that has a little meaning for us and realize it has even more meaning than I knew. There have been a couple times on their birthday when movies are released that sort of "jump out" at us and make us want to go and spend "their day" with that movie. On their third birthday,which we spent in Ohio, "Nanny McPhee Returns" was released. The day of their birthday. We went. We laughed and cried a little and enjoyed spending part of our time "with them" watching a whimsical,funny,loving movie about a mom and her children and a magical nanny. Then last year, on their fifth birthday the movie "The Odd Life of Timothy Green" was released. Watching the trailers weeks before we KNEW we had to see that movie on their birthday. It's a wonderful movie with the same elements as our prior choice.....magical,whimsical,loving and funny. And it's about a family,too. We loved it. And then I watched it this morning.
This morning as I sat enjoying the cool breeze coming through the open windows I watched Timothy teach his family and his town about love and many other things. The first time I watched this movie I noticed that the daughter these parents adopt in the end is named Lily. Of course I found that touching and ironic since the movie came out ON Chloe and Zoe's birthday and I happen to have a daughter named Lily. But today there was a moment when I completely fell apart,in tears and realized so much more. There is a moment in the movie after Timothy leaves and moves on. His parents are heartbroken and read a letter left by him explaining who he gave his leaves to and why. Timothy met a girl who became his best friend while he was there. She got two leaves. As he was explaining this and the camera moves to her smiling face my eyes caught the image of her necklace. A dragonfly. I hadn't noticed it before. I instantly began to sob. In THAT moment the irony of all of it came to me.
Both movies center around a character who comes to a family in need. They become beloved members of those families only to leave unexpectedly just when the families grow to love them the most. Both movies were released on August 20th. And there'e the dragonfly and Lily. To most people these things - even grouped together-would mean nothing. They would be mere coincidence and dismissed as nothing more than that. But to my fellow baby loss mommas out there......you get it. You understand how it only takes one of those things to trigger emotion and how several combined can invoke a full on meltdown.  And I had one.
And now....I wait. Five more days. To have another meltdown. To celebrate another missed milestone. Another missed birthday. Another missed year.

Time for some kindness

http://www.smilebox.com/playBlog/4d7a63314e5449774e54673d0d0a&blogview=true


That's it. Simple. Click the link,follow it to the invite and join!! Share the invitation with all of your friends and then come back here or email me with your photos and stories at jwatts67 at yahoo. Help me celebrate the short time we had together here and the eternity we will share later.

Jeanie

Reading

So-I did some reading this morning. Yes,I know...this is nothing extraordinary. Except this morning it sort of was. This reading was nearly five years in the making. This reading was different. 

      Almost six years ago I gave birth to two tiny, beautifully perfect baby girls. They were breathtaking. Chloe came first.....destined to forever be the "big sister" of the two. Zoe followed exactly one minute later.......the youngest of eight siblings......truly the baby of the family. The day should have been filled with tears of joy, squeals of happiness and endless talk of which one would walk first or who would be most like which sibling and even some bickering over which older sibling would take which twin under their wing and teach them the ropes. But there was none of that. 

     There were constant tears but they held no joy. They were the tears of a shattered and broken mother saying good-bye to her babies. The squeals were not happy-they were the sounds that can only come from the kind of pain felt deep within a person's soul. And there was no talk....there were no words spoken as none could have conveyed the myriad of emotions contained in that moment. My daughters died. They were silent. They were and would forever be.......still. 

     It took me a year to heal enough to summon the courage to request the medical records of my pregnancy. I wanted them. I wanted---no, I NEEDED them, to hold on to ANYTHING that contained even a piece of my daughters. I took the big yellow envelope out of the mailbox and held it tightly to my chest as if they would somehow hug me back. And then I put it inside "their" box and closed the lid. I never opened it, never removed its contents. Until today. 

      It has been nearly six years since they died. In that six years there has been a plethora of emotions, thoughts and even questions. I have endured the grief and each of its mind-numbing steps. I have suffered through the excruciating physical aspects that come along with the loss of one's children. I am still enduring. I am still suffering. And I always will. But there are two facets to this process that I have never really delved into. Being angry with God for seemingly "allowing" this to happen to me and asking "what if?". 

      Anger toward God for His perceived role in their death would be understandable. It actually is one of those cursed steps in the process of grief. But it never presented itself as a viable option for me. I wasn't angry at Him. I'm still not. I was and am thankful. Thankful for His presence at all times, especially in my loneliest moments. Thankful for His choice to bless me with these tiny lives-even if only temporarily. Thankful He hand picked me to personally deliver two perfect angels, pure and untainted by the sins of this life into His loving arms. Thankful for the knowledge, belief and faith that He did NOT do this TO ME......that He endures my pain with me. Thankful that He carried me until I was able to walk on my own and that He still and always will continue to walk alongside me and hold my hand to guide my steps. 

       And I just never allowed myself to ask "what if"? What if I had subjected myself and my children to the endless barrage of genetic and biophysical testing the doctors and geneticists were trying to cram down my throat due to my "advanced maternal age"? What if I had spent hours thoroughly researching each and every possible thing that could go wrong in an identical twin pregnancy? What if..........

      Would the tests have revealed some malformation or dysfunction that would have led to some sort of life saving treatment? Would it.....could it have saved my daughters? Would my research have yielded some information triggering an "aha" moment which would have caused me to ask the right question of the right doctor at the right time? Could the hours of pouring over medical websites somehow have made it possible for my daughters to be here with me now? What if.........

     The truth is-as I have always known...... no. No testing would have saved them. Research would not have prevented their death. Both would only have succeeded in robbing me of the precious moments I was able to spend with my daughters while they were still alive....inside of me...kicking, breathing, moving and LIVING. Instead of being poked and prodded with needles I watched the movements inside of my growing belly-discovering the developing and unique personalities of these two precious lives. Instead of sitting at a computer I took walks,  read and listened to all kinds of music. And I shared it all with them. I told my daughters how incredibly beautiful the sunset was over the mountains and that I couldn't wait to show it to them. I described the flowers along the park path and told them which ones we would plant together (and pick) when they got older. I taught them nursery rhymes, read them bedtime stories and recited funny anecdotes. I shared my love of music....all kinds..... and learned they were acquiring their own taste in it. We listened together as Chloe seemed to calm to the sounds of Classical while Zoe leaned more towards the beats in Adult Alternative and Folk.  

    And I "introduced" them to their siblings. I told them every amazing aspect of their three sisters and three brothers and how they were already hopelessly in love with them and anxious for their arrival in our daily chaotic lives. No moment was wasted. Every moment was treasured. 

      But something changed recently. Time passed. I now found myself wondering, just a little.....what if? What if I were actually nervously awaiting their first day of kindergarten instead of marking the sixth year since they've been gone? What if? That voice became louder until I could no longer ignore it. And so....I reached into "their box" and pulled out that yellow envelope. I opened it and removed its stack of papers from inside. Terrified of what I might find- it took me an hour to bring myself to read its contents. What if? What if they told me there WAS something I could have done? What if I did something WRONG? What if? 

     The papers didn't say that at all. They didn't say anything. I was pregnant. My daughters died. Period. There were no answers, no reasons, no explanations. The papers offered no revelation into the death of my daughters at all. But they offered something better......something unexpected. They offered a look back...a reflection of every moment of the time they were alive. A glimpse into every precious and brief moment of their short lives. 

     There were weekly ultrasounds. The first one at five weeks to simply confirm a pregnancy-before we knew anything beyond the news that we were in fact pregnant. Another at eight weeks when the confirmation of pregnancy became a confirmation of "them"! There was the scan at about fifteen weeks when "they" became (officially) Chloe Danielle and Zoe Grace. And there was the final scan....the one a week before they died. The last scan that showed my daughters still moving with strong heartbeats playing hide and seek with each other as well as with the scope. With every scan there were notes....lots of notes. Notes that dictated every aspect of their lives.......heart rate, measurements, weight, growth, health and expected dates of delivery. And so....this morning....I read. 

      I read every detail of every moment of the time my daughters were still alive. I poured over each scan as if drinking in , once again-every curve of their tiny bodies and every wrinkle in their faces so that I might never forget what they looked like. And it wasn't painful. I wasn't sad or tearful. It was peaceful and joyful and I felt.....blessed. Blessed to have carried those two tiny lives inside of my body. Blessed to have been given six glorious months of their lives...fully reliant on me for their every need just as I am fully reliant on God for mine. And I was.....am......and always will be-thankful. For them.

Important People

We've all heard it..."I can't imagine my life without you in it". We've all said it...." I can't remember my life before I met you". Most of us have felt this about at least one person who has entered our life whether temporarily during a crisis or permanently as a life-long friend or partner. We consider ourselves lucky to have met them. We believe our lives are better because of them. On special days we take a moment to thank them for entering our meager existence, buy them gifts to say thank you and send them cards letting them know we love and appreciate them. And for most of us we live the other days of the year still loving and appreciating them while sometimes forgetting the initial impact that caused us to love them in the first place. We don't mean to. We don't appreciate them less. Life just gets in the way.

I have been incredibly blessed to have more than one of these people to think about, love, appreciate and be thankful for. Not just on special dates or holidays. Everyday. And while life often does get in the way there is never a day that passes without at least a thought of these people finding its way into my heart. These people are the reason my children still have a mother. They are the reason I was devastated but not defeated. They are quite honestly, along with God-the glue that continues to mend the shattered pieces of the person I once was.

Five years ago in the space occupied by mere seconds an entire future was erased. Two futures. Years of planned dreams and preconceived notions about the two souls who would have owned those futures were erased. So was the person I had been for 39 years 9 months and 25 days. The person who left that doctor's office that day was not the same one that had entered only 90 minutes before. She was different. She was changed. Forever. She would have been destroyed if not for the presence of others, known and unknown at the time who managed to save her from that abyss. This is my thank you to them.

There is the brilliant,amazing and HUMAN doctor who cancels his next appointment, holds your hand, cries because he cannot find a heartbeat no matter how hard he tries and hands you his cell phone to call your mother. This doctor put my needs,my emotions and my pain ahead of everything else that morning. This doctor made two choices that day that I will forever be grateful for. Two choices I believe saved me in that moment and continue to save me now.

To be told your grandchildren have died over the phone cannot be an easy call to endure. But she did it. She did it the same way she does everything else. My mother cried with me, she prayed with me and I believe I heard her heart breaking with mine through the phone line. And then she rearranged her life to drive an hour to the nearest airport, get on a plane and come hold my hand as I delivered two perfect and beautiful little girls. She kept me grounded when I wanted to give in because she knew how important it was to me to be there, awake for each and every agonizing moment of their birth. She greeted her granddaughters the same as all the others-with tears,kisses,soft touches and talking to them.......she called them by name and cooed at their tiny perfect fingers and toes. She compared their features to each other and their siblings. And she stood at my side when I was able to hold them to say my goodbyes. She cried with me then and has cried with me since. She lost something that day,too. She lost her granddaughters, she lost their future and she lost the daughter she had known for so long.

There are things that need taken care of, arrangements to be made that you can't process when you are preparing ( is it even possible to really prepare?) to admit yourself to the hospital to give birth to two babies who you already know will never make a sound and will never leave that place with you. There are little girls who don't understand why mommy is crying so much or why the house seems sad and they need someone to help them escape for the day. Because I was blessed with a co-worker who became an even better and more valuable friend (and had herself experienced child loss) I didn't have to worry about them or their day. She showed up at my house early in the morning, picked up my daughters and took them - all day- for girl time. They shopped. They laughed. They did their nails. Most importantly-they smiled and laughed and forgot for that day that their mommy was in too much pain to be their mommy just then.

When you walk into the labor and delivery area of the hospital you wonder how you'll be treated. You hope the nurses won't be cold and clinical. You pray they'll be compassionate and accommodating. What you don't imagine is a nurse who goes above and beyond any of your greatest hopes. This nurse hugs you when you meet,she cries along with you, she holds your hand when you need it , calls your children by name as they enter the world and takes amazing pictures of them.....especially their tiny baby feet and toes. This nurse makes it her mission to remember all the tiny details when you speak so that she knows which baby to dress in which color before placing them gingerly in your arms. And this nurse stays well after the end of her own shift to print the photos she has taken of your precious angels and hand deliver them to you because she knows how desperately you will cling to those photos when you can no longer cling to their bodies. This nurse does not forget you when you leave her hospital. This nurse helps you survive the most devastating moment of your life and continues to help you survive it as time passes by always remembering your daughters and letting you know that she does so. This nurse becomes family in a way few people can.

In the days and years since leaving that place without my daughters I have met some of the most amazing women. You think in that moment that you're alone. You believe that no other woman has ever had to endure the pain you are enduring. You are broken. You are devastated. You are alone. But you're not. Alone. If you are blessed,as I am-you fall into the most incredible bond of sisterhood with the most incredible,strongest,bravest women you will ever meet. Women you never imagined existed. Women just like you. In the space of time it takes to tell one of these women your story and to listen to hers you forge a bond of sisterhood and friendship deeper than those you have known a lifetime. These women will pick you up when you fall, cry with you and for you, teach you that laughter is not betrayal and most importantly will never forget your loss. They will allow you to talk without judgement. They will give you permission to feel. They will understand your walk because they are on the same journey.

Today is one of those special days to remember. Today I will remember each second of a day five years ago when I lay in the hospital waiting to meet my daughters. Today I will relive every excruciatingly beautiful second of their arrival and departure into the world,into my arms and out of this life. Today,while I celebrate the brief moments of their existence in my life I will remember the people who have since become the reason for my own continued existence. Today.......everyday.....I will thank them for willingly walking into a place few would ever wander and refusing to let its darkness overcome me.

Happy fifth birthday my precious Chloe Danielle and Zoe Grace. You are loved and missed daily by so many.

Dear Diary

The last time August 15th fell on a Wednesday it was 2007. It will happen again tomorrow. In just over an hour to be exact. And like every August since that one I will remember. This year,however....I will remember a little more vividly if that is even possible. Because the days and dates are both aligning this year.....the fifth year since then.

Five years ago on this very night I was struggling to find sleep. The days leading up to this one had been quite stressful and I chalked my insomnia up to the aftermath of that stress. By midnight I decided to berate myself a bit. "You're being silly you know. Nothing is wrong. The girls are back home safe and sound. The boys are all set to go off to college. And in 8 hours you'll get to see the babies moving around and kicking and playing as usual and you'll see......everything is ok. What could be wrong?" Little did I know. And with my little speech to myself I drifted off to sleep. But not before writing, as I often did, in my journal. This is the first time I have read my entries from that time......

" Aug. 14th,2007-Tuesday, 12:08 am
            Is dark a feeling? If it is-I have it. A dark feeling........it's like a pall lying on my shoulders right now. I've been trying for almost 2 hours now to fall asleep and can't. It's as if something......not sure what......but something important just isn't as it should be. I can't seem to shake it and I know it's silly. Seriously. How blessed am I? 
            Exactly two weeks ago I got to bring my girls back home where they belong. I thought that ordeal would break me. But it didn't. It's almost funny now to think back to the start of it, sitting at the table in the conference room,hyperventilating and thinking that I just might fall apart and never recover. I did. I recovered and became even stronger. And I fought. Hard. But then any mother would fight with her very soul if it meant saving her child. And that's exactly what I did...I fought and thanks to some incredible people and the grace of God I saved my children. And now they're here. With me. 
            I know there is nothing wrong because the absence of the girls was the only dark cloud still hanging over my life. And that's gone now. So I need to take a deep breath....relax.......and give myself permission. Permission to enjoy my life. Finally! I have six amazing,healthy and incredibly children. And they are all here with me. And soon.....I will have eight!! Two more precious little girls that will fill this house with their squeals of joy as they realize just how spoiled they are at the hands of their siblings. 
            Did I mention just how excited Ceara and Cidney are about Chloe and Zoe? They were so cute. They went with me to "meet" them two weeks ago. I had an appointment the day after the girls got home and rather than reschedule I thought it would be a great welcome home to them to take them along and let them see the girls. Their faces were something I will never forget!! The sheer love and instant attachment to their baby sisters was amazing.....it truly radiated from their faces. I cannot wait to watch them when they get to actually hold the girls!! Who am I kidding......I can't wait til I can hold them! Twins......my head is STILL processing it. Twins. At 40. LOL.
              Anyway......I am rambling because I can't sleep, I feel nervous for some reason only not really nervous. It's an odd feeling and I can't quite explain it. So. Off to bed I go. And I WILL go to sleep. There's no reason not to. In 8 hours I will go to the doctor, as I do every Wednesday. And I will lie on the table and listen to the strong whooshing of their hearts as I do every week. And I will watch them play,flip and kick as I do every week ------ completely in awe of the miracles housed within my body and totally and incomprehensibly in love with them both. "

How many times I have wondered since then.....what if I had trusted my feelings? What if I had called the doctor? What if........but then I know the answer already. The process may have differed...the timeline may have changed.....but the outcome would not have. And so tonight I go to bed.....remembering with bittersweet tears and an aching heart that it was exactly five years ago at this time, on this day that I felt my precious little girls making their presence known inside of me for the last time. And it was at this time on this day five years ago that my perfect,beautiful and incredible little girls and I went to sleep......together.......for the very last time.

Forgotten Notes

I write. A lot. Sometimes I write to people I miss, sometimes to people I don't miss and often I write to myself. Little notes here and there. Snippets of thoughts that collide in my head throughout the day or glances of the turmoil brewing in my heart. Every now and then I come across one of those little forgotten notes as I clean drawers, notebooks, folders and sometimes even my email boxes. Today was one such occasion.
As I sit in the Service Waiting Area for my 90 minute maintenance and oil change (which is now closer to 120 minutes in) I decided to clean out some of the clutter from my email folders. I noticed a (8) next to the Drafts folder. It made me curious as this folder is never used by me for any reason and I don't recall saving anything to it. There were seven older writings of mine.....again-little snippets. Things that made me laugh. Things that made me reflect and recall happenings and goings on. And then - there was this.
Apparently a friend had emailed me on November 28th,2007 to ask how I was feeling. Insignificant date to most, I know. But for me it was the day the doctors had originally set aside to admit me to the hospital, deliver my identical twin daughters and send me home a changed woman. Well, all those things happened just not exactly as planned and much earlier than anticipated. The girls were due the day after Christmas but being mutliples and being born to an "old" mother with Diabetes it was determined they should come early. And they did. Sleeping .
I read the email. I read it a second and third time. And I didn't cry. (Today must be a good day) I smiled. I smiled at the memory of their tiny bodies as I held them close to me.....gingerly as if afraid I would hurt them. I smiled at the memory of their scent as I tried to inhale enough of it to last me a lifetime. And I smiled at the fact that even then, in my most devastated of moments and in the most raw state of emotion I was able to see and understand-and more importantly believe that I had been hand chosen to deliver the purest and most perfect gift to God above. Two angels. Pure. Perfect. Precious.


"

From:	J W (gneenabttl1@hotmail.com)
Sent:	Wed 11/28/07 7:15 PM
To: private

I told you in my email how I was feeling today-you must be busy or distracted huh? It's ok...I am doing ok.....now that the evening has officially set in I am feeling a little more tired and somber I suppose. But I have done well today...no falling apart-just thinking of how things could have been so different for my babies. But knowing this is how they are supposed to be. I was thinking-as sad and devastated and empty as I am at not being able to touch them-how blessed am I that I was handpicked by God to deliver two tiny perfect angels directly into His arms without them ever having to be tarnished by the sins of this world? So many parents think their children are perfect at one time or another-mine actually were. Somehow that is comforting to me today. I gave birth to two children whom I will never have to worry about protecting from all the evil there is,it will never be necessary for me to shield them from the cruel treatment of others and never will I have to mend their broken hearts at the hands of anyone else including myself. Of course there are many other nevers.....the joys I will never experience because they are not here. But I cannot think about those...not today. If I allow myself to think of those nevers I will fall apart...and today I don't want to fall apart. I want to be strong for Chloe and Zoe. I want my daughters to smile on me today and know that I am thinking of them every second that this day brings and doing so with a sense - no matter how small of one-of peace and love for them. "



Their birthday is coming. In less than 4 weeks I will again reflect on the nevers. And again - at least I hope- that I will reflect on the days I WAS blessed with being their mother on this Earth. Even if it was briefly.