Two Years

Today marked two years since this day.

July 11th 2008 (the day we found out Vivian and Annemarie were no longer alive) and July 12th 2008 (the day they were born) are the two most difficult days of my life.

Everything since then has been different. My life changed on those days. There is no going back. Sometimes I think about the person I was on the morning of July 11th and the person I am now...and it's like those two people might look alike...but they are not the same person. Not at all.

It's complicated, of course. We celebrate the lives of our girls...the brief and short time they were here on Earth. We miss them. We cherish them. We are glad and feel so blessed that they were in our lives and that we have the hope of seeing them again in Heaven.

But, of course, we are devastated. Still. Even two years later. The grief changes, but it does not go away. We are learning to live with that.

Today was a day of remembrance. And just being together. We had a packed day...and just enjoyed the moment. The present. And although we wished with our whole hearts that V&A were here to celebrate with us, we know that one day we will meet them again.

We started off the day with balloons...



and flowers...



...and a special Mother's Day present that Mr. Mustard had been waiting to give me since Mother's Day back in May.

They were a beautiful pair of earrings. When I went to put them on, I realized that one of my ears was no longer pierced. What can I say, it's been a long time since I've worn earrings. But I really wanted to wear the earrings.

So...I pierced my ear. It kinda hurt. Ouch.



Then we went back to the Aquarium. It is really peaceful there. It's hard to feel sad when you're looking at sea lions.



Truly.



We stayed at the Aquarium, and then went to the harbor and watched the boats come in and out. Then, we took Paprika to ballet class (we didn't want her to miss it- it's the highlight of her week). After that, we went out to dinner at our favorite restaurant.



After that, we went to the beach and released balloons.



It was an amazing day. I only wish that Vivian and Annemarie had been here to spend it with us. I hope that they had a good view from Heaven. I miss them so very much today and every day.

On The Wings Of Butterflies

(My friend Carly made this photo in remembrance of Vivian and Annemarie. I am so in love with it.)

On Monday (July 12th), it will be 2 years since we said goodbye to Vivian and Annemarie. Two Years. It really doesn't seem like that long ago.

Last year when the anniversary came, I was so caught up in Ginger's birth that it didn't hit me like it's hitting me right now. I have to admit, I have been so sad the past few weeks. Just a big mess of grief.

July is supposed to be the highlight of the year- a month full of picnics, fireworks, and summer. It used to be my very favorite month of all. And yet, I still haven't turned the calendar from June. I am not ready for it to be July.

Last night I went through my memory chest with all of Vivian and Annemarie's things. I cried harder than I have cried in a long time. Grief is hard, and I don't know how to make it easier. I think it's one of those things you just have to endure.

The thing that made me happier - what cheered me up in the midst of my big cry-fest last night - was reading through all the cards and letters sent to me from friends, family, and acquaintances- both near and far. I have scrapbooked every single card or letter anyone has ever written me about the girls, and I have them all bound in three glittery butterfly scrapbooks. Even two years later, I feel this upswell of love and support when I read through all of those letters and cards. It was amazing to have that last night. It helped me so much, and brought me back to a place of healing.

I also sat for a long time with the gifts that people have made for me for the girls: Little hats and stuffed animals. Beautiful blankets. The special quilt that a group of friends made for me, each making their own square in remembrance. Ribbons from flowers people sent. Little notes attached to meals that were dropped by. Potted plants that are still growing and thriving to this day...well, most of them are still growing. I really do have a black thumb when it comes to plants. ;-)

Since we said goodbye, many people have asked me what was most helpful during a time of loss and grief. For me, it really was knowing that others cared about us, about our girls, and that they took the time to write a little note or card, or just reach out in some way. Two years later, those cards and letters and the little mementos are priceless to me...they mean so much still.

I wish I were in a better place with my grief this year. I am being gentle with myself and letting myself just feel the feelings as they come- not judge them- just be present with them. I have vowed not to let myself eat emotionally (when I can help myself)- so this year I am not going to drown myself in a sea of dark chocolate. I am working on that part of me, and it's going pretty well...but that is a post for another day! ;-)

I am preparing myself to be an emotional basketcase next Monday, just in case anyone's wondering. I would like to be in a spot to put a pretty bow on my grief, but grief is seldom pretty or easy. Real? Yes. Hard? Definitely. But never pretty.

Each and every day, I wish that they were here. I still think of them as my daughters, and every night I don't get to sing them to sleep, I am sad about it. I guess it's just one of those things that I'm learning to live with...I'm learning to keep going and moving, smiling, laughing, and learning to live without them, even when it seems like the hardest thing on earth to do...

The Unexpected Gravy

We were in Indiana over Ginger's birthday, and I never really got to blog about my feelings on her reaching a year. I posted that video (which I made before we left on vacation)- but of course it doesn't have words...and I find myself feeling so different at the close of Ginger's first year than I ever expected I would feel.

The first year of Ginger's life was very different for me compared to the first year of Paprika's. I'm not talking about being a parent "the second time around" (as people like to say) or being more relaxed, or feeling more comfortable. No, not that.

I'm talking about how different it is to fall in love after horrible and tragic loss. What it feels like to love someone so much but be scared that it could all end at any moment. The only thing I can really compare it to is having your heart broken and learning to love again. But it's a thousand (a million?) times stronger than that.

Before Ginger was born, the only hope I had for her was that she would be born alive. That's it. I wanted to meet her and watch her take a breath, and I never really thought past that point. I wanted her to be healthy, sure...but I knew that even if she had health problems, it would be okay as long as she was alive when she was born. I just wanted to stare into her eyes for a moment and have her stare back at me and smell her sweet breath. It was a dream I had with our twins...but of course they had passed away by the time I gave birth to them, and although I got to hold them, I really wanted see them alive.

So, in the few moments after Ginger was born she had already fulfilled all of my parental expectations for her. It sounds funny to say that, but it's true. Everything since that point has been gravy...unexpected, glorious, and sweet gravy.

One of the hardest parts about being a parent "this time around" is opening my heart and letting myself love with every corner of my being: risking that, of course, it could all end tomorrow. It is so hard sometimes. But I find Ginger is patient with me in ways that I never could have imagined. Each day her smile breaks my weary heart into a million pieces, wrapping herself around its very core. She has intertwined herself into my soul, and it's just...oh, I don't know...too powerful for words.

With Paprika, I expected to love her with every fiber of my being. I expected to be enamoured by each milestone, each new expression. With her, my love was so new. I had never experienced the heartache of saying goodbye for a lifetime, and I never thought I would.

With Ginger it's different, but it's also the same. Each day as I watch Ginger grow, I can't help but think of Vivian and Annemarie, and what they would be like now. Each day I watch Ginger grow I feel my grief opening up, and I feel myself healing in all of my broken places. When she takes my face in her hands and pulls herself up to kiss me on the lips over and over again (this is her new trick), I think to myself, "How could I have ever known that she would be so sweet, so pure, so innocent, so magical?"

So, this first year of Ginger's life...it's really been a love story. About how a broken heart can heal in the broken places. Not ever fully, of course. But how a soul can learn to laugh again, and sometimes even cry...knowing that there still is joy in the world.

She gave me hope. She gave us all hope. And to think all I ever wanted was for her to be born alive. I would say that she's gone pretty far and above that. Each day...each moment with her, is an unexpected blessing that I cherish in the root of my soul and never, ever (not even for a second) take for granted.

On The Road Again!

A year ago today I looked like this and was in labor with Ginger! What a difference a year makes! Tomorrow she turns ONE year old! Wowza....

We are in Indiana right now visiting my side of the family. We spent four days in Lafayette with Ann, and now we're down in Indy visiting everyone else! We have very limited internet access (just when we swing by Panera or Starbucks)- so I haven't been able to update the blog, or really even check email!

We have been soooooo busy, though! I have been taking pictures all along the way and will have lots to post when we get back to California! Our little vacation is turning into an almost month-long event. Ginger and Paprika are both doing great adapting to all the different places we've stayed!

I could really get used to travelling with them- it's definitely been an adventure, but so much fun, too...and just getting to spend so much time with Mr. Mustard (because he's had this whole month off work) has just been awesome!

Tomorrow we have a big day planned for Ginger's birthday! I am feeling a little sad about my littlest baby turning one already! Time has flown by too quickly, and of course, it makes me think of Vivian and Annemarie, who I wish I could have seen turn one year old. But I'm trying not to dwell on that and just focus on how amazing and wonderful it is to wake up to Ginger's smiling face every morning. Ginger and Paprika make me feel like the luckiest mama on Earth. Truly! I am so grateful for them each and every day!

The Real Gift

Today is Mother's Day. It's a day that is bittersweet for many, blissfully happy for a few, and really sad for others. Hallmark would have you think that it's all flowers and chocolates and happiness but for so many, it's not.



This Mother's Day, I am happy. I am happy for so many reasons. I am grateful for that I get to wake up to the faces of two of my children every day. They are such a gift. I never forget that.

Every single day, I remember how much I love them and how much I wanted them. I don't need breakfast in bed or flowers or even a card. I am happy...more than happy...just to have them, just as they are. I'm not saying they're perfect. But they are perfect to me.



This time last year I didn't know if Ginger would be born alive. My whole pregnancy with her, I hoped and prayed I'd get to see her sweet face, kiss her soft skin, and listen to her laugh. Getting to spend this year with her has been a gift- more than I ever could have hoped or wished for...she really is my dream come true.



Of course, I am thinking about Vivian and Annemarie today. Whenever I post something about them, invariably someone will email me and talk about how sad I sound. And the truth is...I am sad sometimes. I walk through grief, and it's okay to be sad. You can be happy and sad all at the same time. I still miss Vivian and Annemarie, and I suspect I always will. I will always wish for them to be here by my side.

But even though they are gone, I am still their mom. I am still a mother to my girls in Heaven. And if people don't "get" that, or they think it's morbid or whatever...I couldn't give a hoot. They will always be my daughters. And I'm always going to love them. Period.



Yesterday, Paprika watched Disney's original animated Alice In Wonderland for the first time on DVD. She loved it so much, and next thing I knew, she had whipped up THIS outfit. This is her "Alice In Wonderland" outfit. I don't know if anyone else can see the resemblance, but I do.

I am impressed at how she made this costume out of clothes she has- one of her favorite dresses (from Mimi and PopPop), her ballet tights, her tap shoes, a headband, and an old bag we had laying around as the apron.

I know it's a silly thing, but it was one of those ordinary moments that is a gift of motherhood. Watching your child grow and be creative, and funny, and silly...these are moments I don't ever take for granted. Ever.



For all the moms who have lost children, the moms who have lost their only children, and the women who want to be moms but can't be due to infertility or life's circumstances...I just want to give you all a big hug today and let you know that I am thinking of you. I don't say that lightly. I am heartbroken for you all, and hope that this upcoming year brings healing, hope, and happiness.

Last year at Mother's Day, I was so sad. This past year has brought so much healing, and although things aren't all better, and won't ever be all better (how can they be, really?)...I am definitely in a better place than I was last Mother's Day. And that's progress...

Mother's Day will always be bittersweet for me. I am grateful to be celebrating all my children (even the ones in Heaven) and even if there are no presents to open, flowers, or cards for me today, it's okay by me. I am happy this year and grateful, just so grateful for another year of being able to wake up and have someone call me "Mom" - it truly is the best gift of all.

A Different Life

I've been thinking a lot about Vivian and Annemarie lately. Not more than usual...but not less than usual either. Okay, that made no sense!

Today is the 21 month anniversary of their stillbirth, and in some ways that seems like a very long time ago, and in some ways it seems like a moment ago.

I find I am much less angry now than I used to be. But I am still sad, and I still wish that they were here, and I still think about them every single day.

Last week I was at Target and I caught sight of this woman in the store with her big orange double BOB stroller (the same stroller I have). When I see someone with a double stroller, I always look to see if it's twins, and there they were, identical girls about 21 months old. The woman looked almost exactly like I do. Same hair, same style of clothes, same height. She could be my body double, or vice versa.

I looked at her and thought about how different my life would have been if Vivian and Annemarie were still alive.

I also thought about how 20 months ago, I might have collapsed on the floor of Target and started sobbing hysterically, the way I did in the elevator at The Gap on Michigan Avenue in Chicago just weeks after they died.

I thought about how 15 months ago, I would have been so angry. At her, at the situation, at God.

But on this day last week, I just observed her. I didn't cry about it, or feel sorry for myself. I was happy for her. Sad for me. Happy for her.

In some ways, I know I'm healing. I mean, I have to...it's the only choice I've got. I have too much to live for to not move forward.



When we moved into our new house a month ago, I met my next-door neighbor and she said, "You're going to love this block. There are lots of kids. I have twins, so and so has twins, oh, and the people three doors down have twins...I guess this block is the block of twins."

I just kind of wagged my head. Really? Did I have to move all the way across Los Angeles just to live next door to twins?

Last week, I was taking Paprika and Ginger for a walk around the block, and I met one of the other neighbors with twins. She introduced herself and told me that she had 20 month old twins...exactly the same age Vivian and Annemarie would be.

It caught me off-guard because I thought her twins were older, and the fact that they're the same age...it just changes things. Now whenever I'm in my backyard and I hear those kids playing, I think about Vivian and Annemarie and wish they were outside playing, too.

I keep running into this mom and she constantly reminds me that she has twins...and I think that's because she wants me to give the standard twin reaction- which is "OMG, you have twins! How amazing/crazy/cool/stressful!!! Do twins run in your family?!"

But I haven't reacted that way, and I haven't told her our story either. Don't get me wrong, I am nice to her. I just don't dwell on the fact that she has twins and rave over how awesome and special it must be.

The truth is, I'm not sure what to share with people anymore. I don't walk up to people and tell them that I graduated from a top law school and that I was on law review. Or that I've written two books. I don't tell them that Mr. Mustard has won two Emmy's and about all his other amazing accomplishments in the world of television and film (even though I am immensely proud of him).

Point being, I don't go into the intricacies of many parts of our life. But it feels weird not to talk about our twins, especially to another mom and to someone who keeps talking about her twins. But at the same time, when I do bring them up, a lot of times people don't know what to say and I end up feeling worse after the conversation.

Sometimes I imagine a different life where I met Devon at the Mom's of Multiples club instead of at Grief Group. I imagine strolling down to this woman's house with my "wouldn't you know it, our twins are exactly the same age" story and having coffee with her.

But, that's not my life.

I feel sometimes who I was prior to July 12th died, and a new me emerged at the same time.

Paprika and I were looking through old photos tonight...the ones from when she was Ginger's age, and I don't really recognize myself. Sure, I look the same but I'm not the same.

The new me is still happy. I am still excited by what life has to offer in the future. But the girl in those old pictures has no idea what's coming next. I like that girl...but she's not me anymore.

Anyway...just feeling reflective tonight. Grief has changed me in a lot of ways. Made me more patient, for sure. Less perfectionistic. Less concerned with what other people think of me. More expressive. More forgiving.

But even with these gifts, I still miss Vivian and Annemarie and often wonder what might have been. I'm not going to slide down the looking glass chasing a dream that won't ever happen, but I still miss them and honor them and wish they were here playing in the backyard with their sisters.

A Very Important Day!

Well, I realize that it probably seems like I've fallen off the face of the Earth. And I kinda have. The move ended up being much more stressful than I anticipated, and we didn't get internet until last night. I've been going and going and going this past week. We did the move ourselves with a U-Haul, and man...now I understand why movers get paid so much! It was rough. We are still catching our breaths here, and I haven't showered or changed clothes in...oh, about a week. Can you tell? Wait, don't answer that!



But even so, today was a special day...the kind of day when it's important to stop and reflect and honor life...two lives to be precise. Today is the birthday of two special boys, Blake and Ethan, who are very near and dear to my heart, even though I've never met them.

Paprika, Ginger, and I met up with Devon and Rob and their two girls at Disneyland today to honor the lives of Blake and Ethan. It was a great day, a wonderful break from all the day-to-day drama that's been going on around here. We rode new rides, and watched the girls play together without a care in the world.

It was a special day, and I'm glad we stopped to honor what's important. Please stop by Devon's blog and let her know you're thinking about her and her boys today...

I imagine her boys in Heaven with my twin girls, and hope they all had a great big birthday celebration today for Blake and Ethan. I'm not sure if that's how it works, but I sure hope it is.

Life In 3D

This picture of Ginger reminds me so much of those 3D/4D ultrasound pictures. You know, the ones where the baby's face is impossibly cute and scrunchy? We had a 3D/4D ultrasound with Ginger at our perinatologist's office when I was 20 weeks pregnant, but I was too worried at the time to ask for photos from our session. Plus at 20 weeks they don't look quite so scrunchy.

If you recall, ultrasounds were not a fun thing for me during Ginger's pregnancy. Although they were necessary, and I had a gazillion of them, I never did enjoy them. Our final ultrasound with Vivian and Annemarie (when we found out they had both passed away in utero), pretty much sealed the deal on ultrasounds never being a fun thing.

So, yesterday when I snapped this picture of Ginger, snuggled up so tight and close to Mr. Mustard, I got the warm feeling: this is probably what she looked like inside of me not too long ago. She was the same baby then as she is now. She was the same baby when I was 20 weeks pregnant, 30 weeks pregnant, at three months old, and now at almost eight months old. She has always been who she is, as God created her.

Seeing Ginger like this made me miss our twins, the ones who I will never watch blow out their first birthday candles. Who I will never send off to college. Or fix their veils on their wedding days. I had seven ultrasounds with Vivian and Annemarie. Seven times when I saw them alive. Seven photographs of them alive. A few videos. I feel lucky to have those memories. But, I miss the chance to be with them. To kiss their soft peach fuzz. To listen to them laugh. Even to listen to them cry. I just miss them.

Life does go on, and I find myself here...two years after their conception. Two years after they came to earth, came into my body, and came into our hearts. Life has changed so much in those two years. For good. For bad. For better or worse.

As I hold Ginger, I think of her sisters she will never meet this side of Heaven. Of what they would be doing now, and how my heart aches for them, and for Ginger and Paprika to know them.

Life goes on, and I am getting on with it. I'm still moving forward, and still living life as happily and fully as I can. I'm enjoying each day to the fullest, because I know that our tomorrows are not promised to us.

Thinking of my sweet angels tonight and wishing they were here...

365 Goal!

If you look over at the blog archive on the right hand side of the screen and at the number in parentheses next to 2009, you will see that today it says 365.

Yup, this is my 365th post for this year.

I made it my goal at the beginning of 2009 to do 365 posts in a year - about one per day. For me, it was an exercise in focusing on the positive parts of my life. About enjoying motherhood and family life every day...even when I didn't feel like it because I was incredibly grief-stricken over the loss of our twins, Vivian and Annemarie.

I've heard it said that one of the surest ways to be happy is to practice happiness. Just as the surest way to be kind is to practice kindness. The truth is that after a year of focusing on all the good in our family, and all of the wonderful yummy experiences we've shared this year, I do feel a lot better about our lives and where we're headed.

I still have very hard days when I miss our twin daughters and wonder what life would be with them here. But more and more I am finding ways to live in the light and appreciate the good we have right now in our little family.

It is easy to focus on the deficits and what is wrong. But it is so much more affirming and life-changing to focus on what is right. Our lives are not always rosy-perfect, but each day I can find something to be joyful for...something to appreciate...something that fills my heart with gratitude.

If nothing else, I have accomplished my little 365 goal. And that makes me smile!

One Year Balloon Release

We spent the afternoon at the park as a family, and let off balloons in memory of Vivian and Annemarie. We also sent a balloon up into the sky for my friend Kimber's first daughter, Kambry, who was born on July 12th, 2006, and died a few hours later.



Ginger slept in her stroller the whole time we were at the park. I kept her shaded because it was so hot outside. Usually I would cart her around in my sling, but I didn't want her to overheat. So, she stayed in the shade and slept and seemed super comfortable!

Me with Vivian and Annemarie's balloons:



Mr. Mustard with Vivian and Annemarie's balloons:




Watching those balloons fade up into the sky:



Paprika helping out:



Getting ready to release Kambry's balloon:



Watching Kambry's balloon fly up to Heaven:



Paprika thinking about life, the universe, and everything:



Visiting our old friend, "The Tin Man":



Paprika loves the "Tin Man":



I am so glad that we were able to spend the weekend together as a family, and to reflect together on the blessings the past year has brought us. Last year this day was the darkest of our lives, and although we are still so sad and miss our girls so much, we find hope more and more each day. We know that life can still be good, and is good...and we are keepin' on keepin' on inspite of the hard times.

Miss you and love you always, Vivian and Annemarie. We will always hold you close in our hearts, and you will always be our daughters- now and forever!

July 12th

Love you, Vivian and Annemarie. I hope you are enjoying your day up in Heaven. We miss you so, and love you for always.

The Anniversary

This week has been hard for me. I am trying not to slip into dark moods, or get too sad, or be overly self-indulgent in missing Vivian and Annemarie this week as we gear up to the one year anniversary this Sunday.

I really appreciate all the calls, emails, and texts of support- they have cheered me up so much. I am not sure what we're doing this weekend for the one year anniversary...probably just something the four of us on Sunday (the 12th). I wish I was one of those people who wanted to be around tons of people when I'm sad, but the truth is that when I'm sad, I really just want to be alone. Maybe that's not the healthiest way to be...but that's how I am.

Having Ginger here is proving to be quite the distraction, and I can't help but be happy when I look at her sweet face. If we didn't have her, I know that this week would be so much harder. She gives us a lot of hope.

I'm sure I will have more to say over the next days and weeks about Vivian and Annemarie, and what things are like one year after losing them. I look back at the past year and everything we have been through, and can't imagine how we possibly moved forward each day. Some challenges in my life have seemed Herculean in retrospect (like taking the California Bar Exam 38 weeks pregnant) - but I assure you that during the moment, I was just putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward.

That's how the past year has seemed. From delivering our twins stillborn last July 12th and the grief we endured from that loss, to getting pregnant 8 weeks later and navigating a pregnancy wrought with high anxiety and emotions...looking back, I think, "how the heck did we get through that?" But here we are. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other...here we are.

So, as I know the next few days are going to be pretty hellish for me...I think, how will I get through it? One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. One moment at a time. That's the only way to do it.