Not just another day.

I know that the date is arbitrary.  I know that.  Perhaps this is why I don’t feel anything more than usual today.  I feel as though maybe I should, though.  But I don’t feel excessive sadness or overwhelming loss.  It is true, that a lot of that has faded with time.  Today marks the official “due date” for our boys.  I know that I likely would have delivered them sometime in September–heck, I have two friends who were due with single babies in the weeks after me, and both have already delivered their little girls.  So common sense tells me that this day should be no more important than any other (even P was born a week before his due date).  For the past nine months, however, this date has loomed ahead in the distance–while I was pregnant and when I no longer was pregnant.   These last few days have crawled by as I waited for this day to come.  And here it is.  I feel just the same as I did yesterday and the day before that.  Strange.  T is away these next few days and while I wish he was here simply because I miss him regardless, it would be nice to have him here tonight.  Just to not be alone.


When I found out I miscarried and had the surgery a week later, it was late March.  All of the tulips and daffodils were just starting to come up.  Corny as it sounds, every time I saw a tulip bud, I thought of the babies.  And I know that for every March to come, I will see tulips and think of what once was, not necessarily of what might have been (what might have been is so much harder to handle).  I think the anniversary of their death will surely always be harder than the anniversary of something that never was.  I am neither religious enough nor faithful enough to think that those babies are angels in heaven, looking down on us, but I would like to think that they are present here, in this universe, giving me the strength to keep at this journey, allthewhile loving their big brother as only those little guys could.

2 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. I am so sorry. I understand your feelings.

    My first miscarriage was in April of 2006. I was almost 12 weeks, and it was crushing. My due date was also in October of that year, but my mind always wanders back to that month of April. Since then, four miscarriages. To be truthful, I don’t remember any of the due dates anymore, but I do remember April. The smell of the Spring air always reminds me of what was lost.

    Hugs to you.

    October 14th, 2009

  2. I totally understand and I am so sorry. It shouldn’t be important but somehow those due dates get seared into our consciousness. (I know that February 9th seems to loom out on the horizon, taunting me.)

    You are absolutely right, it’s actually the date which signified the end of that life, which has more significance to me.

    October 21st, 2009

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