Six Months

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