While mommys and daddys all over the world were picking their kids up from daycare, preschool, camp...we were picking up our children for the first and last time. We will never get to pick them up from daycare, from school...from a friends house. We picked our children up from the funeral home. They didn't need a car seat. They sat on my lap in a box.
I thought we would just walk in and they would hand us a box. "Our" guy wasn't in, but the guy who met us at the door who knew we were. We didn't call beforehand...we just must have that "parent of dead babies" look. Apparently this was the guy who did the cremation.
I was crying before he came into the room. Just looking at that box and knowing what was inside broke my heart all over again. He showed us the urn and said that he had not sealed it, as he didn't know our plans. He took off the little top, and there was a ring of dust. Except it wasn't dust. We told him we wanted it sealed.
As we waited for him to come back we both cried. Poor B. I sometimes forget how hard this is for him. He didn't get to feel pregnant, puke...grow a belly. He also doesn't have the obvious sign that the babies are gone. I weigh less now than I did before I got pregnant, so if I run into someone who doesn't know, they wouldn't dare ask (I have been getting quite a few double-takes around town, btw). Poor B was asked by someone not "in the know" last week. A lady ran up to him all excited and asked "How are the babies?!?"...and B had to tell her. I wear the proof on my body every day.
I managed to work the rest of the day, but was drawn to the box on the kitchen table several times. I held the urn and cried. Apologized. Told them that I love them.
At the stroke of 5 I grabbed the urn and went into the nursery. I had not been inside that room for more than a few seconds (to deposit maternity clothes, baby books, magazines, etc.) since the day we found out. I crawled into a ball on the bed, held the urn, and cried. We put a twin bed in the nursery so I could sleep next to/with the babies whenever I wanted. I guess I still can. Just not the way I imagined.
I still can't figure out what to do with the nursery. The crib is all set up. Two exersaucers, two bouncy chairs. A dresser full of clothes. Ba.by E.ins.tein dvd's. I'm sure we'll try again (ahhh...a post for another day), but what do I do in the meantime? I can't put it in boxes. I can't leave it there...can I? I don't want anyone else to touch it, but I don't want to do it myself. I hate this.
Our journey (so far)
22 bazillion swimmers:
Sweet, sweet girl. I wish I had some magic words that could heal you completely, I wish I could wrap you up in a gigantic and soulful hug, and I wish I could take on a little of your pain for you.
No one knows all that you are feeling in your broken heart and no one can give you any advice on how to breathe, wake up and face each day. No one has to; you are doing it on your own.
I hope you know that there is a lot of love being sent your way from afar. If you feel lost and alone, know that you need only hit publish and we will be right here for you.
You don't have to do anything right now. Just be.
You are so flipping amazing to me -- the strength and courage you have shared with all of us. We have cried with you, laughed with you, gotten angry with you, and ached with you. And we will be with you.
No parent should have to have their children go before them, no matter what their age. It isn't fair - to either of you. Just keep waking up in the morning, and that's all you can do. Thinking of you always.
I am so very sorry.
I'm not sure what to say, but I just wanted to let you know that I'll be thinking of you both today and many days to come, and praying that you'll find peace and the strength within yourselves to find that light at the end of the tunnel.
{{{HUGS}}}
You don't have to make any decisions right away, if at all. When the time is right to do something, you'll know it. (((hugs)))
You don't have to do anything with it, if you don't want to. I didn't, my nursery remains the same, with his ashes on the changing table. It's not like we need that room anyways, it's always been meant for a baby.
Be gentle on yourself hun.
xo
g
You don't have to do anything right now. And at some point you will just know what to do.
Right now just focus on taking good care of you and B.
((hugs))
Mary is right. Just be, for now.
If you need to take the urn with you from room to room, that's okay.
Gawd, this is so F'in painful for me to recall . . . but when we went to the hospital for my D & C (for m/c # 3) I had packed in a small tupp.erware-like tub the, um, tissue and small little chickpea-sized mass of what was, I suppose, our baby. I held it in the car. I made my husband carry it in to the hospital. We handed it to the OB who did my D & C, and I bawled in that final goodbye. Phuck, I am bawling no at the memory. I only share this so you know that it's okay to feel so attached, and yet so conflicted, about the item in which the babies earthly bodies remain -- even if you know their souls are in Heaven.
What you are having to do -- to live, to be, it sucks honey. Just F'in sucks all around
Please keep posting - no matter how dark you feel or confused or angry. We will all keep listening and nodding.
Wuv ya.
I feel for you like you are my own sister. God bless and take care. I'll be thinking about you.
As others have said, take your time. You're in my thoughts.
If it were me, I would leave the nursery set up for now. You don't feel like taking it down, so why should you? Do whatever you are comfortable with sweetie and take all the time you need.
Just leave it there. Close the door and go in when/if you feel ready to deal with it. It's still really soon after your loss. You'll figure it out.
It's going to hurt like hell for a while. I had no idea how much it could hurt. Like a knife in my chest.
I kind of wish we had gotten an urn, or something solid, pretty. The ashes of our sons are sitting in their boxes in my husband's office, along with their blankets, hats, death certificates, footprints, and most of the sympathy cards we received. In a shopping bag. With the maternity clothes and baby books. With the door closed. I haven't seen them in 5 months. Just can't.
I'm so sorry. Try to be patient with yourself. This is a horrible, horrible time. You're in my thoughts.
Like everyone else said, just leave it for now.
Poor B, having that woman come ask him. I hadn't thought of the fact that you have outward signs that at least keep some people at bay.
Just leave the door closed.
As for people who ask things---I'd recommend that you and your husband rehearse something you can say to people. Just so you don't have to think, but instead when someone blurts out something stupid, you can reply automatically, without crying.
And yeah, someday someone will come up to you and say something, assuming that the babies have been born alive....cause they won't check dates.
So make up a line and rehearse it. Just in case.
I came over from bridges just to say I am so very sorry for your loss. no parent should ever have to live through such pain and anguish.
I'm so very sorry for your loss of both your children. You are in my thoughts.
I'm sorry. I remember when Gabe came home. Mr. Spit tucked him into the seat so carefully.
You don't have to make any decisions right now. take each day as it comes.
I'm here from Bridges also, and just wanted to tell you that I'm so sorry for the loss of your babies. I can't imagine how incredibly difficult it must be for you. Just do what you need to do to get through each day.
I'm here from Bridges too, to give support and to share the flavor of sadness. It was March when I was with my daughter and her husband the day they collected the ashes of their tiny daughter from the funeral home. Such sad sad days! Peace to you.
Here from Bridges...
What a heartbreaking post. No one should ever have to endure such a sadness. I am so very sorry for your loss of your children.
Here via bridges. Sorry I missed this when it was fresh. I can understand where you were at. And, of course you can leave everything there. Or hide it all away - whatever works (or worked) for you.
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