Missing the Life I Never Had
It’s an odd feeling to miss something you never had. To wonder about how life would have been and long for it so much. There are times the enorminty of what I lost hits me and it feels like the first time all over again.
One of the hardest parts for me has been the fact that the pregnancy I had will never happen again. Now hear me out – I’m not saying if you lost one baby you can just go out and get yourself pregnant again and all better. I know it’s never the same. But with me, it’s different because I lost an entire life. I lost being a mom of twins, having a twin pregnancy, all the things that go with it. I lost raising two identical boys, watching them grow up, seeing the men they become.
I will never, ever have that. Ever. I mean, the chances are really not in my favor.
And so pondering another pregnancy in the future isn’t easy. I will never again feel two babies move in side of me, hear two heartbeats on the doppler, see two little wiggling forms on the ultrasound.
I try not to feel sorry for myself in all this, we have Bella and the adoption. We have a very sweet little life here. I think what gets me is how sad I am for how happy I was about it all. There is a part of me that feels so sad for the girl 3ish months ago who was unaware of what was going to happen.
I take myself back to the day my water broke and want to rewind and scream, “No, no – don’t head back to the bathroom, it’s all going to end there!”
And yet nothing I could have done would have prevented it. It’s hard to comprehend one minute rubbing my stomach and the next feeling the amniotic fluid gush down my legs. Life just – gone.
I want this adoption to get moving so much simply for the fact that in many ways, I feel like since I came home from the hospital my life rewinded to last year. Mother of one (on earth). Hesitant about being pregnant ever again.
It’s such a strange thing. In the middle of life reversing, I have all these memories and dreams of something that I never tangibly got to have, but ended up changing everything anyway.
Then there is the part of me that is fiercely proud I had that life ever – for a brief moment it was mine. They are always mine.
I’m reminded that the life I have now is so full of blessings, and while I will long for the one with my sons forever, I choose to try to be content with what I was given instead. It’s hard. But it’s about the only real control I have over any of it. The choice with how I deal with losing it all.