I don’t know how!

I try to make my blog true to its origins of talking about pregnancy loss. I notice that the interaction is often a lot less when I talk about this. It is still very much a taboo subject.

Raising awareness around this subject is still and probably even more important to me, now that I am blessed to hold our twins in my arms.

Today it is 3 years since our first pregnancy where we were told our identical twin girls had no heartbeats. The day I took a pill to start the delivery of our babies.

Today I sit here on this anniversary holding our twin daughter and son. Today and everyday of their life I feel the most blessed person in the world.

Today I am going to the hospital with Kayden and Layla for his consultation. Today I visit the very place I sat 3 years ago when we were told Kora and Ava had no heartbeats.

Today I don’t know how to grieve!

I’m not sure if I grieve a little harder now than before as each milestone the twins reach I think about Kora and Ava and wonder if they would have met the milestones at similar times.

I grieve a little more vigorously as I am seeing right in front of my eyes what should have been. I grieve a little diligently because this weekend we heard Kayden laugh for the first time, a milestone Kora and Ava never got to achieve.

Today is a day that I find the hardest of them all. Delivering Kora and Ava was something I had to do. Hearing the words “I’m sorry there are no heartbeats” was the last thing I expected.

My whole world came crashing down and every bit of hope, faith and belief I had around bringing them home, shattered. I have never felt pain like it.

Today, I look at Kayden and Layla and my heart skips a beat. It’s the love I knew before but this time I get to shower them with it. I get to hold them and kiss every inch of their body.

Today I am filled with a sadness that many will never understand. I am also overwhelmed with a guilt that my loss will affect our beautiful twins we brought home.

Today I stand in what was Kora and Ava’s nursery picking out Layla and Kayden’s outfit from the wardrobes that should have held their clothes.

I stand in a room that is being decorated to become Layla and Kayden’s nursery now. A nursery that was once decorated for Kora and Ava.

Today I will probably laugh because of something Layla or Kayden will do. Today guilt might stab my heart a little stronger for laughing on what is the saddest day.

Today I will look into their eyes and not yours and I will love them more intensively because we were so blessed to bring them home.

Today I will remember how fortunate we are to have carried them out of the hospital in their car seats and not to have carried them into the crematorium in a small white coffin.

Today I will thank you for everything you gave us and taught us. I might love Layla and Kayden differently because of you both and that is more profoundly and more passionately.

Today I might count my blessings yet tears will still fall. Time passing has not made life without you any easier.

Today I might be a mum to your younger sister and brother. Today I might feel grateful for what I have, yet broken for what I don’t.

Today I might not know how to face this anniversary or grieve your loss in a respectful way that protects Layla and Kayden.

Today I might hug them a little tighter. Today I might kiss them a little more often. Today I might look into their faces and study every aspect of them over and over again.

Today the emptiness in my heart might show a little more.

Today I am still YOUR mum too. Today and always.