You Would Think

This is my first original post back on Blogger in a long time -- since the pregnancy and the loss of my girls. {The past several entries have been transfers from my Tumblr Blog.}

When people ask how I'm doing, my answers have become standard.

I'm okay.

I'm alright.

I'm hanging in.

But I'm lying.

I am not one of those three. In fact, I am hurting and broken and blindly searching for the pieces of my life and my heart that seem to have shattered into a million different pieces.

You would think I should be okay

but my days have been long and arduous.

I work incredibly hard to smile. I've noticed that the smiles I share these days are no longer the same warm and soft ones that I used to have before and especially during the pregnancy. Now I feel like the smiles I give are stiff, contrived, and almost comical in their emptiness. 

Laughter is feigned. Sunshine has been clouded. Days have been bleak.

You would think I should be alright

but I see the gold box that my daughters' ashes are in and I do nothing but long for what I've lost with them...

The rest of the four months of carrying them, the company of my little babies, and the constancy of their movements

The havoc of raising two infants -- middle-of-the-night feedings, diaper duty, messy feedings -- times two.

The harrowing task of chasing after toddlers, children, adolescents, and {shudder} teenagers.

All times two. Simultaneously.

And somehow, as daunting as the thought may have been, John and I felt so ready. We were so prepared for our girls and we so want{ed} them more than anything.

And you would think I should be hanging in.

Have you ever thought about that term, "hanging in"?

Sounds nonchalant, like you're just chilling out.

But I am the furthest from that. 

I'm more like

hanging by a thread.

I have worked very hard to smile and play the role of a person who is strong, a person who is "moving on". 

But what I've learned is that I'm allowed to be sad, to grieve, to miss my girls. 

{source: Etiquette for a Lady on Tumblr}

I'm so afraid to smile or laugh, or show any sign of being "happy" {happy in quotation marks, of course} because I'm afraid I shouldn't be. I'm so afraid that in doing so, it's like we're moving on and forgetting Aubrey & Finley. I don't ever want my girls to be forgotten. Not by me, not by John, our families, or by anyone.

Despite it all, I promise to try very hard

to smile

to laugh

to bring a little sunshine 

Because in doing so, that is how we remember my two little sunshines.