I gave birth to my twin baby girls in September of 2015. Next month one of my girls will be two-years-old. The other one will not. What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to breathe? I feel like I will be torn in two between my love and my pain. We will celebrate the birth of both my girls, but one will not be there. How do you do that?
The gravity of the coming date hit me hard when I realized next month was September. Grief and PTSD have a powerful affect on my memory and my sense of time. I was literally caught off guard by the coming of the next month on the calendar. Now that fear and pain has crept into my heart. The thoughts of all the things we didn’t get to do with our sweet little Bug that flash through my mind are achingly vivid. I can imagine some with a smile on my face as the dream plays out in my mind. But next month, no amount of imagining is going to change the fact that we will have two high-chairs and one will be empty with an uneaten cupcake on the tray.
My head keeps saying things like you felt this way about Mother’s Day and you’re still here, and I now realize that day and that pain was mostly about me and what I was missing. Her birthday is her’s. And she doesn’t get to have it. This ache, this pain is for my daughter and all the things she lost and all the things she will never have, not just the pain I feel from losing her. And my sweet little Elbow, Bug’s surviving twin sister. Little Elbow will always have her sister, but will never have her sister and that tears me apart. Twins, but she is alone. I don’t know how I am going to do this. Sometimes I feel like there is only so much I will be able to take and one day it will be too much.