Each year from September 14 - September 22 I grieve. I shop for nothing, mope about everything and spontaneously cry. I generally feel sorry for myself, for our family and dwell on what could have been.
But here it is three years later and I didn't do that. I planned ahead and gathered the supplies needed for the mommy-loss boxes, so there wasn't much shopping to do. Instead we spent the week potty training, adjusting to a new job for Caskey, and visiting with my sister who surprised us by flying into town. In between all of that we had the new baby to contend with and the daily chores for a family of 6. There was little time to sit and rest much less grieve.
So, today I am feeling guilty. Since I didn't get to raise them and spend hours and years focusing on them I give them this one week, and I just cheated them out of it. I called the church to make sure Mass was being said for them, we planned on going. I spent an hour and a half getting us out of the house - too bad we were 30 minutes late, so we skipped church.
I guess this is the first time they have been treated like living children. They have been neglected just like the other four. Lainy Ann has been doing her homework by herself, all the kids dress themselves, William is even pottying on his own, and I'm sure Alexander will tell you he has to cry for his food.
They weren't forgotten. I could never forget the 18-weeks I had with them. Nor will I ever forget that I won't have them for the rest of my life. But this year they were neglected. And for that I feel guilty.