Today, September 5, six months have passed since my little ones were born as
angels.
I can’t believe I lost my beautiful girls six months ago. It
doesn’t seem right that life just seems to keep marching on. Most of the time I
feel like I am playing a part in a play. I keep hoping that one of these days
life will feel real again.
So many songs hurt me now. But none more than when “Without
You” (David Guetta featuring Usher) comes on the radio. If that seems like a
weird song – it is – in a way. There is
a bit of a dance vibe to parts of the song – but the rest is slow and the
lyrics hit home. My girls were born on a Monday night. I went home with empty
arms and heart on Wednesday evening. Saturday morning was my girls’ funeral. I
woke up before anyone else in the house and had to make a run out to CVS for
pantyhose. As I drove home I turned on the radio and “Without You” came on. I
cried like there was no tomorrow. I pulled in the garage and just sat there and
sobbed along to the song. I couldn’t
believe this day was real. Was I really going to have to bury the girls I
thought Brendan and I were going to get to raise and love and cherish all of
our lives?
“I can't win, I can't reign
I will never win this game
Without you, without you
I am lost, I am vain,
I will never be the same
Without you, without you
I won't run, I won't fly
I will never make it by
Without you, without you
I can't rest, I can't fight
All I need is you and I,
Without you, without you
Can't erase, so I'll take blame
But I can't accept that we're estranged
Without you, without you
I can't quit now, this can't be right
I can't take one more sleepless night
Without you, without you
I won't soar, I won't climb
If you're not here, I'm paralyzed
Without you, without you
I can't look, I'm so blind
I lost my heart, I lost my mind
Without you, without you
I am lost, I am vain,
I will never be the same
Without you, without you
Without... you”
After the song ended I did my best to pull myself together
and walk into the house to officially get started on the day.
The few days I had been home from the hospital had not only
been painful emotionally but also very painful physically. I hadn’t expected my
milk to come in and that brought so much discomfort. It also brought even more distress that my
body was producing something for my babies that I couldn’t give them. My body
had betrayed me in so many ways yet it slapped me in the face by producing
milk. It wasn’t fair.
A very good friend loaned me her black maternity dress for
the day of the funeral. I wore a pink scarf and pink heart earrings in honor of
my little girls. I also bought an angel pin for my coat. It was a very cold,
cold March day. I just wanted it to be over already. My parents and my one
sister and her husband were staying with us. My husband’s parents and brother
and sister-in-law joined us that morning and we all drove over. The cemetery is
literally two streets away from our house. My husband’s best friend since
childhood and his wife (my sweet friend who loaned me her dress) joined us
there – they had done all the work to help us find the cemetery and funeral
home when we were in the hospital.
The Monsignor walked across the street from the Church and
met us at the gravesite. Sitting there was the smallest white casket. Two lambs
were pictured on the casket along with my girls’ names. Inside the casket I had
asked the funeral director to place two small stuffed lambs with the girls. Two
letters had also been placed inside that my husband and I had written.
As I stood there looking at the casket the service began.
Tears started coming and then all I remember is barely being able to breathe or
stand. My husband and my Mom propped me up on either side and my Dad rubbed my
back. All I could do was cry and stare at that damn casket that held my girls
instead of me. Why were my girls going into the ground instead of being inside
me where they belonged? I barely remember a word of the service because I
couldn’t stop heaving and couldn’t hear the Monsignor over my own ragged sobs.
I tried to stop because I wanted to remember the words the Monsignor was
saying. But I couldn’t. I could barely stand. Then it was over. Then I had to lay
little pink roses on top of their casket and walk away. I had to leave them and
know they were going into the cold hard ground.
Giving birth to angels on the previous Monday was pain
beyond what I can describe. However, I also experienced great love and wonder as I held my
girls in my arms and looked over their beautiful features.
Recognizing my husband and myself in them. Counting their tiny perfect fingers
and toes. When I left the hospital without my girls two days later it was
another awful pain. Knowing that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But the
actual funeral was the darkest and worst moments of losing my babies. I was
leaving them in the ground. I was having to say good-bye.
All I can do is pray that I will be with them again someday
in Heaven. I cannot wait to hold them in my arms again and tell them how much I
love them. How much I have always loved them. I want to kiss their sweet cheeks
and just snuggle them forever. I pray for that day more than I can ever begin
to express.
Mommy loves you, sweet angels. xxoo
