The Reality of 11 Years

The house is quiet this morning as I sit here writing my annual post, as I sit here thinking, remembering, feeling...and crying. 
Other years I often have thought of and even wrote down part of what I want to say this anniversary day.  Not this year. This year has been different.  This year has been easier for some reason. We decorated the tree a few weeks ago and I hung all of Cole's ornaments on the tree without any tears.  I've talked about him, about our journey and about TTTS so much lately and felt little sadness. It's been very interesting, like a grief maturity, and I wondered if this year's anniversary would be different too, not so hard, not filled with sobbing as I remember, as I feel.  
Going to sleep last night I knew that wouldn't be the case because for the first time ever in these 11 years, I had vivid flashbacks of the weeks and weeks of my twin pregnancy, of telling people I was pregnant, of sharing ultrasounds, of shopping for our double stroller for weeks on end (incidentally the only thing we'd purchased by 23 weeks when diagnosis happened....and incidentally one of the things I thought of as I lay in the room where the news was delivered to us...how I never wanted to see that stroller again). I remembered so many things all at once and it seemed to end with remembering going to bed after having the surgery so full of fear and yet of optimism too.
So I decided this morning that I just needed to remember and to feel. I read back through this account of that day and sobbed and then just sat back to remember and to feel...

And literally it was a memory of a physical feeling that triggered such a strong emotional reaction. I remember waking up that morning, likely at a similar hour to this.  It was quiet and dark and I couldn't sleep any longer.  And then I felt it. Strong and powerful kicks from the left side of my uterus, from Cole's side of my uterus.  I was filled with joy, with a reassurance that he was alive and ok.  

Hours later I would learn he wasn't ok, that everything was not ok nor would it ever be that version of ok again.  I learned that Cole's heart was not beating and I knew that my heart would never be the same again.  I lost a bit of my mind in those moments, understandably so, but I also lost a piece of my heart and a piece of myself that I know I'll never get back.  

The memories of that day are so vivid....the words the doctor said, Geoff crumbling into the wall, me rolling away from the doctor and trying to curl up and let the wold swallow me up.  The memory of feeling like my heart just broke into a 1000 pieces and that I could not go on.  

And this morning it was the memory of that strong kick, that final goodbye from my sweet son Cole that did me in.  My hands rubbed my stomach, remembering that kick and almost begging it to happen again, to have him kick again and then keep on kicking in that time, in the days to follow in 2008 so that the course of my life would have changed, that his life wouldn't have ended on Dec 13th and instead I would have felt his kicks for weeks to come and welcomed him alive and kicking with his twin brother some 11 weeks later. 

But that's not my reality and the reality is, the reality of 11 years without my precious son, is that, despite that last few weeks and even days being much easier than other years, today is hard. Today I miss my son. Today I wish I was soon planning to wake up my twins for school instead one of them for our annual trip to Toronto to honour the other one.  

My dear, sweet Cole....oh how mommy misses you. I miss all that should have been and I miss all that could be. I feel so lucky to be your mom, to know you and feel you every day.  I wish you were here and yet I know you are...in my heart and in all that you inspire in all of us. Thank you for being you, for giving us all you have.  

I love and miss you sweet boy...today, tomorrow and forever.