The Things I've Learned

My boys, Charlie, Cal and Harry are never coming back. Never. No try again. No do over. No better luck next time. I was given a one in eight thousand chance of having triplets and I lost them. I stand defeated and I hate to lose. There are no do overs this time. It's done. I have buried my flesh and blood because of no fault of their own. I have begun to travel down a road that is daunting and dark. To be quite frank, it really sucks. I could write all day about how difficult this is but I'm not sure it would be serving much good. So, if there are lessons to be learned along the way I will share those instead. I can only write of my experience and here is what I have learned about death and loss - so far (although I know my journey is just beginning):

1) The loss of an infant child is real. I'm sure it is logically impossible for some people to understand how it can be so difficult to lose someone you barely knew, had few memories of, or shared so little time with. I am an educated, stable, rational being with a healthy perspective and I can tell you without equivocation that the loss of a baby will rock you to the core. It will send you to places you do not want to go. I am not here to convince you of anything, except that you will likely never understand what a parent goes through unless you have experienced it. There is no time/grief correlation. When you bury a child you lose a piece of yourself that you will never get back. You are changed forever and you would give anything to have your old life back - but that will never happen.

2) I have learned when someone dies the worse thing you can say is nothing. I was really bad at this before. I know now that the simple cards and emails and messages after a traumatic event are like oxygen. I know going to the mailbox or looking at the comments online were the highlight of Aaron and my day for the weeks following the boy's deaths. I know how good it feels when you run into someone who knows and the first thing they say is "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I was sorry to hear about your babies." Automatic comfort. I also have learned when I buy a sympathy card - I now buy two. One for right away and one for later. It gets worse before it gets better.

3) I have learned why some people seem "so strong" or why "they're doing well" at funerals. For me, I think I was out of tears at that point. Impossible to physically cry any more. Second, although I felt as though I was in the moment, it all seemed unreal - like I would surely wake up from this horrible dream. And third, it really feels good to see everyone that cares for you. It is not a facade and it is not strength. It is humanly possible to feel gratitude and happiness along side extreme pain - all at the same time.

4) I have learned the funeral is not the end of grieving. It is just the beginning. When everyone goes home, goes back to work, resumes life as normal - that's when it really starts to hurt. And it hurts bad. The world seems to be spinning around you and you're living in a fog. In the two months following the boys death I didn't get a lot done. I guess I still don't. It was a major accomplishment to shower, write a few thank you cards and maybe scrounge up some food or pay a few bills. Don't ever ask someone in the weeks following a traumatic loss "What have you been up to?" Grieving - it's a full time job. I remember apologizing to a friend that I hadn't returned her phone call because I was having a bad week. The response was, "why, what happened?" As if I was already supposed to be over it and moving on. It takes time - eventually time makes it better but not right away. The first eights weeks were brutal.

5) Public events were hard. I didn't want to run into people who didn't know (and I ran into plenty of them anyways and had to tell the story). I remember thinking I just want to go somewhere that nobody knows me. I imagined that being lost amongst the crowds of New York City might feel pretty comforting. The first two weeks I did not go anywhere, not to John's school, not to the grocery store, not to the neighbors, nowhere without Aaron.

6) I have learned traumatic experiences do not make you stronger. The experience leaves you changed certainly, but not stronger. More empathetic, more caring, more spiritual, yes. But also more cautious, more fearful and more scared that something else will happen and it will be more than you can handle.

7) I have learned the stages of grief are real. It's not just a bunch of hooey you learn in high school psychology class.

8) I have learned watching someone die peacefully is not as bad as it sounds. I always feared being expected to be at someone's death bed waiting for them to pass, afraid I would not be able to handle it. It is okay. It is worth being there for.

9) I have learned there is nothing colder than death. I remember thinking in all the Minnesota winters I have lived - I have never felt a more numbing cold than the bodies of my dead babies. I kept trying to cover them up the night we were in the hospital, hoping more blankets would warm them up. Every time I touched someone's skin in the week after their death I would always think - they're alive - they are so alive.

10) I have learned that people who voluntarily choose professions that deal with death and pain and suffering are angels. They are angles here on earth and their comfort in a time of loss is lifeblood to those left behind.

I would have been induced this week had I carried them to the end and my life would be different forever. I know I have a lot to learn as my journey through life without my sons is just beginning. It's getting better. The breakdowns are less frequent - but when they come they are so dark I wonder if I will ever pull out of it. I do. And I have to keep hoping and believe time will make these wounds scar over. I have stopped listing to Ryan Bingham's The Weary Kind (Crazy Heart) twenty times a day and feel a little more productive each week. I'm finally ready to tackle some projects around the house. After ten weeks I pray to God I have endured the worse, but I know the longer this goes on the more emotionally spent I am. I guess time will tell.