Every day I wake up with a pile of rocks on my chest. The first challenge of every day is to take
off a rock so that I can get out of bed.
The rest of the day progresses the same way – each daily task requires
me to pull a rock off so that I can move forward. Some days the rocks are so heavy I can barely
get them off. Other days the rocks seem
to turn to pebbles and every day activities are easier to accomplish.
No matter how light the pile of rocks are when I go to bed –
even if I manage to clear the stack – they return through the night and weigh
me down again the next morning.
I have started to read books on grief. There are not a lot of books written that
solely discuss babies – but I have found one called Empty Cradle, Broken Heart. It discusses miscarriage, still birth, pre
term birth and death of children up to a year old.
Karre’ and I were so excited about the chance to raise
triplets. It was a club that we were
overly joyed to join. We had spent 22
weeks reading about pregnancy and about the trials, tribulations and joys of
raising multiples. Losing
our babies was never something that we researched. We knew that triplet pregnancies were high risk
but we never understood why.
It just
never felt like this could happen to us.
