This time last year…..where do I begin.
I was planning both a birth of two souls and a funeral.
I knew nothing of what really was lying ahead of me. Heck I don’t think anyone understood the impact the girls would make on all of our lives.
The pain and heartache that could not be fathomed, only experienced.
I knew nothing of processing my emotions in any shape or form let alone in a healthy manner. My pregnancy was just another event in my life I was supposed to take in stride and handle.
And I did.
I kept my chin up. I pushed through the physical and emotional pain. Downplaying how I really felt (that’s kinda my thing anyways).
My focus was channeled in doing every possible thing I could to increase their chances of survival at birth.
We went to every doctors appointment at UCLA, even if it meant making a last minute MRI that afternoon. Driving eight hours in one day.
The odds were slim at best, let alone their quality of life after that was a huge unknown.
All I knew is that I felt two girls inside of me kicking up a storm, thriving in their own way. Who was I to stop them? To cut their shorts lives even shorter?
Writing about my experiences in my first blog 2souls1heart.net in hindsight was one of the best things I could have done for them and for myself. They are immortalized in that website.
And once my memories fade, I have a virtual place to visit and help me remember.
The blog also satisfied a creative itch I can never seem to fully scratch. Giving me the ability to create beautiful images of baby items I would never be able to use.
Again, looking back, this was a coping mechanism.
A way for my brain to make sense out of an impossible situation.
I really don’t know what our options would have been if I was pregnant right now during this pandemic.
The idea of giving birth alone is incredibly frightening, and not how a human being should come into this world.
My heart goes out to all the pregnant people out there. Especially the high risk pregnancies where there is so much more uncertainty.
The time I had with my girls will never be enough, but I’m now grateful to at least have had that. Surrounded by family and friends who could make it to their birth, crammed in the NICU. And afterwards in our recovery room where every moment was spent holding them, making handprints and footprints, and taking pictures that I will never have enough of.
Incredibly grateful to all the nurses, technicians, and doctors who gave their time and skills despite knowing the odds.
Who gave their all simply because that’s what we asked.
This time last year…..I was in numbing bliss.
And it seems we are collectively in this state of bliss.
With some not taking the virus seriously, while others not being able to grasp what really lies ahead, and the consequences of it all.
Join me on my path back to hope~