Most people who know my sister and I, know that she and I are very, very close. We are only fourteen months apart and up until college we experienced everything together. After college we both married and started families, to this day we still share so much.

We are best friends, well, we are beyond best friends. I thank my lucky stars (and my parents) everyday that I have her by my side. As you can imagine, during the loss of James and Jake, she and my mom played a large role in our lives, in our grief. The two of them provided us with more love, patience, support and understanding than I can possibly fathom. I do not know what we would have done without them, I can hardly bear the thought.

A while back, I asked Sarah to write a post for me on her perspective of everything that occurred earlier this year. I gave her no deadline, just told her to write when she felt it. She felt it last Friday and I’m sharing it with you today. There is a lot of information in this post that I have not shared, after reading this post, if you have any questions about anything that has occurred with us, I welcome you to do so in the comment section, or you can e-mail me privately. I know there are many things people are curious about, so at this time, I will answer any questions, assuming I’m comfortable answering…here are Sarah’s words…

In late February, Beth called me at work on a day when I was extremely busy. She started by saying, “do you have a minute?“ I almost said no. I.ALMOST.SAID.NO. But instead (and thank God) I said “sure” and she told me to read her blog which I did where she explained the call she received regarding her erratic thyroid determined by blood work. I tried to assure her that this didn’t mean anything relating to the babies. I didn’t know if that was true but I could hear the fear in her voice and all I wanted to do was make her feel better. And I wanted to believe myself more than anything that her baby boys were fine, but I was terrified too. She went in for an ultrasound and I told her to call me when she got out.

And I waited.

And waited, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I called her cell phone and she answered. I said, “I‘m sorry to call, but I’m dying over here“, and she responded with “me too.“ My heart broke and the pain overwhelmed me. I told her I needed to leave the office so I could talk but I would call her right back. I called my husband on my way home, in an uncontrollable form. I was sobbing loudly explaining what had happened and my immediate grief was screaming over the phone as the pain was loud in my body, my heart and my words. I was the opposite of calm but the thought of what Beth must have been feeling compounded with my pain for the loss and my sadness for her grief were absolutely controlling me. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced and it all seemed so impossible.

I arrived home and spoke with Beth for the third time. She seemed distant, quiet and so sad. She asked me to call a couple of people and also asked that I make a post on her blog since her readers would be waiting, wondering and worrying. I was heading to Beth’s (four hours away) and that’s the only thing that was clear to me. I needed to be with her more than anything, more than I’ve ever needed to be with her before. I packed a few things and got in the car to get to her as fast as I could.

When I finally got to the hospital and saw her laying on her hospital bed, with her bulging belly comforting James and Jake for the last few hours, oddly I felt happy. I was SO happy to see her and be there and to know that she would not be going through this alone. Brian and our mom were in there with her, but I couldn’t be the missing link and it felt good to be there, too. The happiness passed quickly as we began talking about the reality of the situation and what would be happening. I still couldn’t believe it was real.

After being in labor, in hard labor for the last 6-7 hours, Beth had several very strong contractions, very close together when she leaned forward in pain during a contraction and said almost as though it was bursting out of her, “I feel them with me“. It was almost hard to understand her because of the force the words came out with since she was in the middle of a big contraction, it truly seemed uncontrolled. Particularly due to her lack of words during labor, and especially during contractions. Then seconds later in almost panic she says, ”GET THE NURSE!“ I don’t even remember if anyone pressed the ‘nurse’ button when I ran out of the room, flagged down the nurse in absolute panic. Beth had maintained impressive composure the entire time and her sudden posture and demeanor told all of us their delivery was coming. I don’t know how much time had passed, but it wasn’t long before Beth was pushing. This was it. James and Jake were about to be born. James was born first, and Jake followed right after. They were perfect. I can’t stress that enough. They were perfect.

Beth labored like an absolute pro. I couldn’t believe how well she endured the contractions, along with the sadness and grief while preparing to meet her babies for the first and last time. I still marvel at her strength when I think about each contraction she experienced and how much she wanted to take in every possible experience with James and Jake, no matter how great the pain was. She was courageous and weak, but her determination was what she never lacked for a single second, and that was more admirable than anything.
Beth held James and Jake, as did Brian.

Then we were all given the honor of holding those perfect, beautiful boys. We took pictures, held them close, kept them warm, and told them stories or sang songs. Their faces were striking. I fully believe they look just like their big brother, Racecar. Their profiles particular shared a striking resemblance to Racecar’s. And their looks were identical. We all smiled when we talked about how identical they were. They were perfect.

The days following their death were extreme. I truly could not have ever imagined feeling so much pain and truly the source of my pain was because the hurt Beth was experiencing and I couldn’t do anything to make her feel any better. I could never describe to anyone how my pain was because of HER pain. That she had to experience such tragedy was more than I could bear. I still struggle with that, every day.

I tried to do things to make her feel better, to make days go by quicker. I lacked sleep because Beth didn’t talk much, so I would stay up late just in case she called. I wanted to be there for her. I NEEDED to be there for her, even if that meant just being on call. I would stay up late night after night, crying to my husband about how much I hurt for Beth’s pain. All I could do was be there for her and let her know I supported her but I COULD NOT FIX ANYTHING. This was the most paralyzing and devastating piece for me. All I wanted to do was to take her pain away. And I couldn’t. I could only sit by and watch, wait and hope she would call me and I would make some profound statement that would bring her comfort if only for a moment.

I still don’t feel like I made anything better. The only thing that would have made her feel better is if someone could have put those beautiful and perfect angel baby boys back in her belly, and that I could not do. She’s my sister. I’ve known and loved her for all of my life. Even when she said mean things about me in our high school newspaper about my dirty looks or my boyfriend at the time, she was still my sister who I shared almost as strong of a connection as I do with myself.

I hope she heals the way she needs to and takes all the time she needs. I know I can’t tell her what she needs to do and I rarely even try to give her advice regarding her grief. If I could have one wish starting now, it would be that Beth takes all the time she needs to heal and she has people she can turn to with any needs, even if it’s not me. I only want her to feel better and healing is all I want for her.

To this day, I think about the day she called me, and I learned a huge lesson about balancing work and life. I still cringe thinking about the moment of hesitation when she asked me if I had a minute. I cannot believe I had to take a second to think if I had a minute for her. It’s comforting that I didn’t say no, but it still hurts that I even considered it. One thing is for certain, that was the very last time I ever consider putting work before my family and friends. It put things into perspective for me and I will never let the busy part of my everyday life get in the way of the people I love.