Minutes after finding out that James and Jake had died, I feared losing another pregnancy.  I grew up with five brothers and sisters and beside the occasional (everyday) brawl, it was a wonderful experience.

To this day we still get together and laugh and cry and reminisce about the wonderful life and childhood that we had.  Despite the occasional (everyday) brawl.

My point is?  I want more children.

I know having a pregnancy loss is annoyingly common.  My Mother suffered multiple losses of her own, as did my grandmother and most recently, my oldest sister.

Logically, I understand that most early miscarriages are simply because the pieces of the puzzle just did not fit together.  It makes total sense.  The entire process is so incredibly intricate, how could it not go wrong some of the time?  The night I was admitted to the hospital, I can remember talking to Brian and my parents about how amazing it is that Ariel and Racecar are here with us in their most perfect forms.

I still can’t over it.

Honestly, I get annoyed that people don’t know how amazing it is that they can have multiple children and not have any idea how fortunate they are to have carried and birthed without complications.  It annoys me, but I also envy that a little bit.

I know there are many people out there that are aware of their gifts or their “luck,” but not everyone is.

Awhile ago, I sat in the waiting room at my OB’s office, only briefly enough to see the ultrasound tech walk up to a very, very young patient. (maybe sixteen years old.)  The tech informed the patient that she was incorrectly scheduled for an ultrasound, that she would need to schedule it three weeks later when they could better take measurements of the babies body parts, this it was simply too early to get the best view.

This girl looked up at this tech and started to cry.  Why?  Because she had to wait three weeks to find out the sex of the baby.  Not wait three weeks to make sure everything was okay.

The bitter (and probably jealous) person inside of me wanted to yell at her “have you know idea how lucky you are?  In the grand scheme of things you’ll never even remember this teeny tiny little wait.”

I realized then how wrong that was of me to think this way.  I did understand her disappointment, but I was still frustrated at what I was seeing.

I guess that’s one of the reasons why I chose to write so candidly about losing James and Jake.  I wanted people to understand and I wanted people who have experienced a loss similar to mine to know they are not alone.

Also?  There are woman who at the time of my loss had not experienced a loss but have since then and have come to me seeking advice and comfort.

One year ago, I thought my blog would be a great place to share my life with identical twin boys and two kids who were born less than a year apart.  I never dreamed my blog would actually turn into a blog that is sometimes described as helpful, inspiring, resourceful and sometimes too difficult to read.  {ouch.}

I’ve stated  before that I’m not okay with losing James and Jake.  I’m not okay with the fear  I have when thinking about future pregnancies.

But I am okay with being something bigger than I was a year ago today.  I am okay with the fact that I know how sacred each breath we take is, I’m okay with sharing with all of you my hopes and fears and my shortcomings because I know that not everybody is perfect.

Not you.  Not me.  Not science.

I am fearful, but I guess all we can do is HOPE for the best and let life head in the direction that it’s supposed to, no matter how incredibly difficult that actually is.  Any tips on how to do this?

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