Reflections...

This time of year always sucks.  I usually end up sick, and I'm sure it's stress-related. The time around the kids' birthday and leading up to Eric's passing usually hits me this way. This year I add to that my upcoming hysterectomy and subsequent recovery/time off of work plus other *private* stressors, and i seem to be a wreck. There may be changes coming and that weighs very heavy on my heart.

Life after the loss of a child is odd. Odd... is that the right word? Indescribable. Maybe that's a better descriptor. My son died. That's reality. But I have four other kids that fill my days. I'm blessed that I have them, those born before Eric and those born with him, and my baby-bearing days are over, which is a blessing and a curse at the same time. I'd love to have a dozen more, but it's not in my future, and rightly so. I appreciate my kids and all the good (and bad, LOL) that come with them. I read many Loss mom blogs. Many of these moms are within the beginning stages of their child-bearing years. I don't imagine my pain as less than theirs, but I also don't imagine my pain as the same as theirs. I already have and still get to experience the joys of raising my children, yet there is always a shadow. The shadow is always there, but not always immediately so. It's not that every time I look at Levi I see his identical twin angel. Rather, there are times, when he does something so cute; when he frustrates me; when he and Vivian have an unusually cute day. Those are the times that I long for the completion of their set, their brother. That I wonder what he'd be like, what he'd sound like, in what ways he'd be different from Levi, and what ways life would be different to have all three. Then there are other times. Times when things are quiet and I actually get time for my own thoughts. When those thoughts are able to run wild, and the pain, the longing for my son, the immense feeling that I just want to be able to hold him and tell him into his ear how very important he is to me and how much I love him.

I have never said I have twins. But the other day I omitted the surviving triplet part as it was just a conversation in passing about my 2 7-year-olds. In conversations such as this that is how I normally describe them: my seven-year-olds, or my same aged kids. This could mean many things, but does not HAVE to mean twins, so it works. Oddly, the conversation took a strange turn with one innocent question from a stranger and the explanation of their tripletness was needed. I can't even remember the specifics of it, but I do remember walking away from the conversation thinking "I tried to say just twins, and the universe stopped me in my tracks." In reality, Levi and Vivian are twins. The fraternal part of an identical-fraternal set of triplets. Vivian is a fraternal twin to Levi and a fraternal twin to Eric. Levi is a fraternal twin to Vivian and an identical twin to Eric, and vice-versa.

They are twins, yet they aren't. Odd. Indescribable?

So, in Loss-Mom terms, this month every year sucks. I remember dates. I remember the look on little Eric's face at certain times. I remember diagnosis and when they were made. Names pop into my head, the Clergy at Emanuel, the Clergy that officiated at Eric's funeral, the vision of my older children broken hearted at their brother's funeral, the vision that is forever burned into my head of my husband carrying his son's casket to his resting place. That may be the worst of all, I hurt so bad that my husband had to experience that. That I couldn't carry his children long enough to keep them safe and give birth to healthy kids for him. That one weighs heavy on me. If I could turn back time...


Erika
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