In no way am I an expert on grief, I’m living through grief, but I don’t know everything about it.  What I do know is how grief directly relates to me and my life, my family and my heart.

It’s really all I need to know.

I often think about how I’ve learned so much about life and loss in this past year and I guess if I had to think about what I’ve learned after losing James and Jake, I would have to think that I have learned how to react to others who have experienced death and loss in their own lives.  I often wonder what I would do to let others know that they are not alone in their grief now that I have lived through grief of my own.

I want to share what I know with you.  I’m sharing this with you because if you take something from me that will help heal someone’s heart, than it’s the right thing to do.  I just need you to understand that this is MY perspective and these are MY thoughts.  These are things that have worked or have not worked for ME.

-If you learn that someone has suffered a miscarriage, do not ever, ever, ever say “at least you have other children.”  Just minutes after learning of my most recent miscarriage, I was sitting in the doctor’s office waiting to schedule the D&C, the officer manager came in, offered her apologies and asked if we had children at home.  Through my tears, I said “yes,”  She replied with “well, see!”  The fury I felt at that moment was immeasurable.  It’s a thoughtless and useless thing to say.

It is wrong and you must never say it to anyone.  PLEASE.

-Saying everything happens for a reason isn’t any better.

-A mother’s heart will forever be broken after a loss.  My heart breaks every single day since losing James & Jake.  Although the heartache is less intense than a year ago, with each day that goes by I feel further removed from these boys that we love so much which I HATE.  Life is so busy, but if you can, always try to rememeber those days that mean so much to others whether it’s a due date or the date of a death.

It doesn’t even have to be an anniversary, you can reach out at any moment and I guarantee you will have greatly and positively affected this person with just a simple email.

Grief is lonely.  So painfully lonely.

-Always say something.  After losing James & Jake I had many people who said “I would have called or emailed but I figured you were already receiving so many calls and emails.”

For me during the darkest hours of my grief, the loneliness could have killed me, but it did not, thanks to people sending their love and thoughts with me.   Each phone call or email that I received absolutely meant so much.  Even emails that said “just thinking of you today.”

-Do not expect replies.  I refused to talk on the phone with anyone.  I could not bear to hear the sound of someone’s voice, I did not want to hear the sad and concerned tones or the words that you hear when someone dies.  I did not want someone to ask me how I was doing and have to lie and say “I’m fine.”  Because I was not.  I did not want to get on the phone with someone and have the conversation move to something trivial like broken dishwashers and sales at Target because during that time?  That stuff did not matter to me and the only thing on my mind was the pain I was feeling.  The deep, intense, tangible pain.

My soul sister would call me almost everyday and leave a voicemail that went something like this “just checking in, letting you know I was thinking of you.  If I can do anything, let me know.  I love you.  You don’t have to call me back, unless you WANT to.”

It took me three weeks to return her call.  Her calling me was not about her, it was about me.

I have received hundreds of emails that I have never replied to because it’s just too hard, which sounds like a cop out, but it’s not.  Every email is read, over and over again, but I just can’t reply.

-It’s okay to just say “I’m sorry.”  Because you are and those words are real.

-Don’t be shy.  I have  been so impressed with people who have brought up James and Jake when there was something on their mind, or when someone asks a question directly relating to them.  It breaks the ice and it means you are thinking of them and it’s such a relief for people like me who want them in their lives so badly.   I’ve had people ask me if they could memorialize James and Jake in their own way, people who I have never met.  I admire these people who feel it in their heart to just ask their difficult question or share their intimate thoughts, I have learned a lot from such people.

-Just listen.  If  feelings are shared with you, keep them close to your heart and think about what’s been said.  Be trusting with what you’ve heard.  Being a good listener is a beautiful thing, a precious gift.

There is more, but I can’t articulate it properly right now, but I will.

Although it’s been over a year since losing James and Jake and even though the sun in shining and my children are singing, I still know what I do not have under my roof and in my arms right now.  The coos, the diapers, the sleepness nights, the sound of laughter coming out of their perfect little mouths, the kisses, the chubby fat rolls…their beautiful personalities aren’t here.

And I feel it.  Every single day.

I was just waiting to miscarry.

I was cautiously excited at the idea that I was a little bit closer to maybe having another child, but I think I knew that something bad would happen.  or maybe I just convinced myself that something bad would happen.  All I know is that something bad did happen, but we weren’t shocked by it, not like we were with our precious James and Jake.

I really, truly miss them with every piece of me.  I miss everything about them, from watching them together on the ultrasound screen, to loving the idea of having them in our lives, I miss holding their little lifeless bodies in our arms because during those moments we were physically their parents, they were ours.  The further time slips away, the further they seem to slip away and I can’t stand it.

And they’re still ours.  I know this and Brian knows this, we constantly think about how old they would be or what our lives would be like if they were with us.  Sometimes we communicate it verbally but mostly it’s with our eyes.

I can’t explain or even understand why any of this has happened, it’s like I live in a world all alone where people think they understand, people try to understand but seldom really do.  Few are actually in this stupid, unspoken club.  And I’m glad for these people, I actually love the fact that so many people don’t know what it’s like to feel like I do inside.  Because it’s painful and I don’t want anyone to feel pain like this and when people do, even I don’t know what to do.

We become mothers the minute we learn we are pregnant.  The dreams, the love, the fears, the apprehension are all weaved together to create motherhood.  And sometimes those dreams don’t come true and the fear does come true and for other others their dreams do come true and their fears don’t come true, it’s all so complicated.  So beautiful.  So painful.

I don’t know why me and I don’t know why not me.  I’ve said that all along.  But what is really pissing me off is that during this past pregnancy, the one that ended just one week ago, I was never able to enjoy it.  I was guarded, I was scared,  I did not want to have MY LIFE thrown upside down IN AN INSTANT like what happened with James and Jake.

So, I just waited for the pregnancy to end.  I waited to bleed.  And I did.  I waited to not see a heartbeat and we didn’t.  I waited to hear the I’m sorry’s all over again and we heard them.

I did not dare to dream.  And I’m not sure I ever will.

This pregnancy had it’s warning signs all throughout, so I’m certain that is is part of the reason why I felt a miscarriage was going to happen.  At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Even though you would think I was prepared for the worst, I wasn’t.  I’m sitting here wondering how we got here.  How is it that one year ago right now, I was blissfully pregnant with identical twin boys and now?  Our lives are so different.

It hurts.  But what hurts the most right now is knowing that maybe my body just can’t do this anymore.

My heart is breaking tonight.