It was a blow, to say the least. But I was a little surprised by the way I felt at the news. After my initial mental response I really was genuinely happy for her. And I didn't even wish it was me that was two months pregnant, which is what I would have expected to feel. My heart was simply wrung over what I had lost, over what could-have-been. Today, right now, I just want my babies back; my own two babies that I had before. I want Ailis and Noah, and that's all. That's all I ever really wanted. One boy, one girl. Mine.
I don't often get stuck, anymore, wishing for the impossible. Wishing things un-done. But today I am. Not drainingly, not dramatically. But I am taking the time to close my eyes and assure myself that yes, they were real, and yes, I am their mother, and yes, I know the color of their eyes, and what they were like at heart. (There are so many things I'll never know about them, but there are a few things, at least, that I do.) If both of them, or even if just one of them, were here, my life would be so different. Not easier, not less complex, but definitely different. And I would have a little less grief to deal with. I would have a little less crippling pain.
I miss you my baby-loves, my turtledoves, my daughter and son.
Oh, I miss you. I always assumed you would be with me for so much longer than you were. Did you know, before you got here, that we hadn't much time?