Two Years

It has been a full two years since I held my daughters safely in my belly.  A full two years since I felt Emilyn dancing around on bottom, and Hailey kicking and jabbing up top.  Since I had the pure innocence knowing that sometime in March or April I would be bringing my girls home because things always go perfectly in pregnancy.  Since I cradled their tiny bodies, caressed their oh so soft cheeks, and kissed their cold little button noses.  I long with all of my being to go back to those precious moments to get in one more snuggle, one more kiss, one more picture, even if only for a second.

Those first few weeks and months after losing the girls were unimaginable.  I was hit with wave after wave of grief, only getting enough time between them to just barely catch my breath.  Then after about three months, I started getting a little more time to breathe.  A little more time to recover.  A little more time to feel more like myself.  I started smiling more, enjoying things more, and living again.

Now, two years on, there has been so much healing.  I am no longer a shell of myself, I'm me, the new me.  I can think of Emilyn and Hailey and smile.  I can look at baby girls most of the time without pain, I no longer cringe at the sight of them and pretend they aren't there.  I still ache every time I see twin babies, and hear the word twins though.  But now I can see older twins and not hurt.  I saw twin girls that are turning seven in a few days, smiled and wondered what that life must be like, without pain.  I don't cry every day for them, or even every month.  But the pain does come back, and I do cry, and I'm okay with that.  I've embraced it.  Despite the all of the healing that is happened, the wound will never be completely gone.  Time just doesn't heal certain wounds.