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I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to grieve.

Ever since I was a little girl I feared death. Was terrified of it. In 6th grade I spent the entire year waiting for the evening when I would fall apart and make myself sick over someone potentially dying.

I’d never really experienced it. My grandpa died a few years ago but he was sick and old and I missed him tremendously but it wasn’t a shock. I wasn’t there when it happened so it didn’t stick with me.

This sticks with me.

I can’t shake the images of their birth. Preston’s short life. His few hours against me struggling to breathe. It replays over and over again in my head like a nightmare I can’t wake from. Everywhere I turn, there it is. What we lost. My minivan we bought. The clothes. Bella. Knowing her tiny hands would have one day been theirs too.

I don’t care that everyone thinks what I did was so brave. I’d give ANYTHING to have them here. With us. Still pregnant with them. I’d trade it all. The emails of people asking me how I got to work for Babble or how lucky I was to work from home or have twins or be settled – jealous now? Jealous of this? I would have (and did) give it all up for them. I can barely function. The pictures on Facebook of babies haunt me with a terror I didn’t even know I could feel. I can’t breathe without it hurting. I can’t think without their faces. I laugh and smile and it all washes over me that as I do this my sons lay in a morgue waiting to be cremated and there isn’t one damn thing I can do to make it stop.

I have no idea how to handle this. No idea where all this pain should go, or if it has to go somewhere. I can’t make it go away and part of me doesn’t want it to because it seems horrible to not hurt this bad for them.

I’m so angry but I don’t know at what. Maybe me. My body. My inability to do something a woman was created to. I barely held onto Bella, and I couldn’t even make it with them long enough for them to have a shot at life. I didn’t know. I tried so hard, talked to everyone I could about what I could do this time around. I was so scared, so scared from the moment we got pregnant that something would happen to them. I tried to reason all the ways it wouldn’t – mine would be different. I wanted them more. I was documenting it. I did all the right things.

And now they’re gone. It didn’t matter. They are still gone from me. It was my biggest fear and it happened anyway. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know.

I just want it to be all better. I want my sons back. I want to wake up and have this all be gone, for it to be over and it never will.

And so I sit here in bed and cry and mourn and write because I don’t know what else to do to make it all stop.


Comments

  1. there’s nothing to say except that i am praying for you…

  2. There just aren’t any words. I’m sorry seems so inadequate. You and your family are in my thoughts.

  3. Melissa Burns says:

    Keep writing and letting it out. Nobody is ever going to understand how you feel, even though some of us have lost in ways that have similar tones. It hurts and it sucks and it’s unfair and it makes life unbearable but illustrates our capacity to love. For as long as you want, you have people you’ve never met in all corners of geography rooting for you and listening/reading. Godspeed to your tiny angels and peace and healing to you.
    From @ViennaSoul.

  4. I am praying for you and your family. God bless you.

  5. Just another stranger lifting you up in love and hope and wishing for you to find the strength to keep going. Take good care of yourself and your family.

  6. Sending love to you Diana, there is no *right* way. I am so sorry for your loss and know that I am here if I can help in anyway. xxo

  7. I have never lost someone I truly loved and known. I am endlessly uncomfortable with death. But I know grief. I know sadness. That consumes you. When you dream and forget and wake and relive. I know that. I can’t imagine the gut wrenching loss you feel over your beautiful boys. I can tell you time will make it better (it will eventually but never erase it) but that won’t make you feel better now. Nothing really will. Keep writing. We’ll all keep listening and trying to hold you up best we know how. I am so sorry this happened. So sorry.

  8. God'sGirl says:

    Sending heatfelt love and prayers. There is no right or wrong answer for how a person grieves. Give yourself permission to feel whatever it is your feeling at the moment. Know that there are so many holding you up at this time.

  9. I have not stopped praying for you and your family. There are simply no words…
    I will continue to lift you up in constant prayer ((hugs))

  10. There is no right or wrong way to deal with what happens to us in life. Do whatever your heart and mind tell you to do. I’m so deeply sorry for your loss and send you all my love and support.

  11. This quote always helped me… “Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.” – Earl Grollman

  12. Praying for you, your boys and your family.

  13. Ferryl Wynn says:

    Sending love <3 <3 <3 :-(

  14. I am so, so sorry for your loss. I had twin boys at 24 weeks in 2004. They lived 2 days. I thought I would die from the grief, but I didn’t. You will never stop missing them, but it will get easier, someday.

    My heart is just breaking for you. I will keep praying for you and your family.

  15. My heart goes out to you, Diana.

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