I am so ANGRY to be typing these words. I fully planned on talking about the miracles growing inside of me and the anticipation of a better 2018. Now, the only positive I seem to come up with is that in 2018 I can only lose 4 children instead of 5. Cynical? Sure. But I'm just not sure how much more one can endure. I keep thinking that I've suffered enough, that it can't be my turn yet again. But the truth is much harder than this fantasy I want to live in, and we are left ending this year in the same way we started it - barren.
We had a very brief 24 hours of hope. Twenty-four hours when I had a faint positive on my pregnancy test. I've been there before, walking the line of faint tests, which always darkened as the days went on. I had years of negative tests, month after month. I know what those look like and the heartbreak that accompanies them. And, because of that, the faint positive is SUCH a huge thing, something I never had in those years of waiting. So, for 1 full day, I clung to that. And then the next day - it was gone. These babies existed for only a few weeks, I'm not sure that they ever count in my medical charts. But for us? They were everything. They were our hope at the end of a difficult year, they were a promise of something to look forward to, they were two little people we loved so desperately. Miscarriage isn't easy at any stage. I used to think that miscarriage before that first ultrasound wasn't so bad. But, here's the thing, from the MOMENT you see that faint little second line, you make plans. You dream. You talk about names. You hope. And to have that all come crashing down is hard, whether that child is loved for a few weeks or months. We knew these babies for 12 days, saw them for the first time 12 days ago. Not long at all. And yet, still so painful. To make it all worse, two new big boy beds were delivered this week. Two new mattresses, new accessories, new bedding. I have a once-nursery, now spare bedroom, filled with unused cribs and changing tables and baby gear...
I'm not sure what lies ahead for us, I'm not sure what our plans are. We have 4 embryo waiting for us, so I am confident we will meet all 4 in some fashion. But I'm also coming to grips with the reality that this big family we have dreamed of may not be what God has planned for us here. That we may continue to watch our extended family grow while also watching our own children die. That I may only be raising these 3 crazy ones here - a Warren, a Dean, and a Hannah. And we may not know our other children until they are grown. I have a pile of maternity clothes that I ordered while pregnant with Lucas that came in a few days after he passed away - those may never be worn. But, I still feel like our family is not complete. Like something or someone is missing. And I still feel like it's a set of boy-girl twins. As much as having twins again terrifies me, that's still where my heart is. I just don't understand why there has to be so much pain in the journey to get there.
Our only picture of this set of twins