My Alligator Purse

Family Day is officially a holiday in our house now, celebrated on September 22nd of every year. The kids get the day off from school and my husband takes a personal day from work. I think we finally have the celebratory tradition finalized. In the morning we drop off goodies and a gift at the hospital. I do that by myself in case I need a good cry. I thank all the nurses for being so kind to me when I delivered all 6 of my children and I leave a gift for 2 other unfortunate mothers who will walk in the same shoes that I do. We go to the florist where we get baby-blue balloons, four of them so each child can give a balloon, and 4 flowers. I let each child choose their flower. I really like to involve them in the process. We go to the Cemetery where I cry and hug my husband and the kids run through the large expanse of grass and enjoy their breakfast, this year we had blueberry muffins. I may need to rethink the balloons though. Although the kids love them and I think they look great in the pictures, each year so far they have blown in the wind and popped on the grass. The game that follows is ‘collect the broken balloon pieces and throw them away’.

This year the kids chose sunflowers.

One of the things I miss most about not having my twin sons is not getting to buy cute little matching outfits. I don’t get to buy 2 backpacks for them to start school, or 2 bikes for Christmas. Even with 4 children in our house I don’t ever buy 2 of the exact same thing since the kids are different ages and sizes.

But ’tis the season for twin buying for me. The twins anniversary is coming up. This year I decided to finally make those quilts I have promised myself since the first year they died. About 3 months ago I found a new quilt pattern that seemed fun and would make use of fabrics I already owned. I was able to cut all the pieces and take my sewing machine with me on vacation to Arizona, which was bittersweet. I remember being pregnant with the twins four years ago in Arizona, eating tons of sausage and drinking protein drinks to gain weight, and watching the Hurricane Katrina fallout. I guess it was fitting that here it is four years later and I was listening to the news talk about the anniversary of Katrina while I sewed the two quilts.
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I’m not getting a cut from her business. But I wanted to tell you all about her anyway. I found a lady named Debbie who will draw a portrait from a picture. She specializes in memorials of stillborn children. But with a twist. She changes their position, makes them look full-term, clothes them, adds teddy bears, whatever you like. I emailed her newborn pictures of my living children and the only picture I have of the twins. This is the preliminary sketch she made me. I can’t wait to see the full version.

Here is the final version:
I will get a hard copy, this electronic copy, plus all the rights to the picture so I can make postcards or other cards for anniversaries and such. I highly recommend her work. She worked closely with me to make sure I was satisfied.

Now I know why people leave the grieving alone. Sure, the first few days, even the first week, there are phone calls, visitors, flowers, meals, and cards. Then after the funeral you are left alone with your thoughts. Those horrible thoughts of what-if and why-me. Its been three years since I lost our sons and just a few people remembered and mentioned it to me. It makes me eternally sad that my sons short time on earth has been forgotten.

But today I visited a stranger, yet a sister in grief. Someone at our preschool lost her 11-day old daughter. I decided to visit her, bring her family a meal, make her life just a little easier. I knocked on the door and explained myself. She and her husband were very grateful. But the pain in her face just tore me apart. It was shocking how she could be so appreciative and devestated at the same time.
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I don’t normally do diary type entries that just repeat the day. I prefer my entries to be stories rather than a report. Even so, I have been sitting on this entry for 2 weeks now. I wanted to post something, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. So please excuse my ramblings.

First, I want to say Thank You. I have belonged to message boards for nearly 4 years now. But it was when I lost the boys that I really needed the support and camaraderie of ladies who said good-bye to their children too soon. Once my eyes cleared and I could see past my grief I realized that these women could provide other support; I could complain about things in my life without hurting people’s feelings, get great tips on healthy meals, and laugh about a new joke on the internet.
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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.