I'm feeling... I don't know... today. I'm not sure that "blue" is the right way to term it.
I feel excited about being pregnant again, about the possibilities, but most of all, about these children. I feel excited that they may be getting to know Nicholas and Sophia in a spiritual way now. I feel excited that Nicholas and Sophia are big siblings, even if they are in heaven.
I feel scared and uneasy about being pregnant again, about the possibilities, but most of, about these children. I'd go through hell if it meant they'd be okay. But I'm worried. What if... I can't bear to think of the what if... scenarios. I feel scared that it may all come to an end and that I have no control over any of it. I'm uneasy about each twinge or pain, in spite of their tiny durations. I'm nervous about the symptoms I have and the ones I don't have.
I feel sad. I feel like I shouldn't be able to be pregnant so soon, because, in my head, Nicholas and Sophia were going to be born in July and I'd still be abstaining in August and September and, possibly, even October. If that were the case, this wouldn't be happening, so remembering why I am here, makes me remember that my babies have died. And that is a deeper sadness than anything else. Especially because I love the baby/babies growing inside of me now with all my heart, just as I still love and will always love Nick and Sophie will my full heart. I dont want to not have this pregnancy, I only wish that I had it and had my precious Nicholas and Sophia, too.
My babies have died. They are dead. Those words are, quite possibly, the worst words in any language. They are cold. Mes bébés sont morts. Empty. Mis bebés han muerto. Souless. There is nothing to fill the cavern that life leaves in the space that was reserved for their memories... the watching of them grow and learn, of watching them live. There are no words for the grieving parent, to express the gravity of their loss or the emptiness that breeds like a wildfire inside of them. Likewise, there are no words adequate for the well-meaning, who try to convey their sympathy. It's nothingness, just like the "new normal" that the orphaned parent has to face, each and every day.
Many couples fall apart in the face of such a loss. To be honest, I don't know why some do and some don't. To me, the only person who truly feels Nicholas and Sophia's deaths the way that I do is their father, my husband. (He will always be their father first now, my husband second...) I could not face the dark night, the quietness, the emptiness without him. He is what keeps me warm when the cold is bitter, through my bones. He is what holds me when I cannot hold myself up. He understands my grief through his own. He is a constant reminder of them, and I cannot imagine a world without that... Without their eyes or their ears or their noses... Without the things he carries with him, for all to see, for me to see...
Today, I feel. Deeply. Passionately. I feel sad, I feel lonely, I feel empty. But I feel excited and full of new life, too. I feel all these things at once. And that is okay.