My twins have been on my mind a lot lately.
In an effort to not shut down or escape uncomfortable feelings, my heart is pretty wide open.
Even if I didn’t have any pictures, which are difficult to look at sometimes, my physical scar still holds tenderness.
The sensation in my scar and the skin surrounding comes on randomly. Thankfully, its nowhere near how sensitive it used to be though. Its an odd combination of complete numbness and hyper sensitivity.
So that feeling is a constant reminder of what I went through with my girls. How I fought for them. How I desperately wanted them.
Getting triggered, and just feeling sad, by all the babes born to parents without intention or purpose.
I have no ill will towards these parents and families. Life should always be celebrated. Plus babies are just so cute in their awkward and wrinkly sort of way.
None the less, on occasion, I get upset.
I could count on more than two hands the number of pregnancies that thrived in and around my own. Two of them were my sisters. Many were coworkers. Several were cousins.
And I think, my girls would have been one by now. The same age, if not younger, than those same babes.
My head spins with “what ifs.”
Then I remember that I was chosen to be their mom, out of billions of souls.
And I revel in that thought.
That I was chosen to be their mom because, despite how I feel, I’m strong. Stronger than most.
And I was chosen because they needed me, just as much as I needed them.
A metamorphosis of that need; blossomed into a new sense of being.
An enlightenment of the meaning of life.
Knowledge attained only through experience.
I still have so much to learn. But I’ve already tackled the first step.
By opening my heart.
By loving, loss, and letting go.
Join me on my path back to hope~