Well this one is hitting me like a wall. I don't know how it started. I've been feeling pretty bad ever since one of my friends' baby was born at 28 weeks and I saw her pictures on Facebook. It brought everything back so vividly. I can even hear the beeps of the alarms in B's NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). Then, for some stupid reason, I read about the new British Prime Minister, who lost a little girl due born prematurely. She was just 10 days old.
And here I am, bawling my eyes out while J is napping next to me. Tomorrow, O and B would have been 18 months old.
It's difficult for me to imagine how they would have been if they had survived. Since they were born so early, who knows what disabilities they would have had. Maybe they would have had cerebral palsy. Maybe they would have been blind, or deaf, or on an oxygen tank. Or maybe they would have been just fine. Happy, little twins toddling around with a big smile, black eyes and black curly hair. There are no words to explain how much I miss them and how much I would give my life just to hold them for one hour.
I feel so guilty, not only because J is here, warm, alive, healthy, happy, and that's more than a lot of people will ever have, but also because if O and B would have survived, then he would have never lived. They were our family: two children, one boy, one girl. Perfection. Many of the women in my support group speak of a huge gap in their family... I have lost my entire family and had to build a new one. The guilt is terrible... if it weren't for my sweet babies dying, this little boy would have never been. I can't imagine my life without his smiles and his baby smell, but I also want my twins back.
Crappy crappy crappy day
