It was winter.Cold.
He had left in the fall.
I was in a new season.
I felt I needed to pick myself up-
Face the world-
The world that needed to start spinning once again.
With the changing season, I needed a new coat- one that would fit the mother who had just delivered babies- full term twins- a mother of two-
I went to a nearby department store and quickly found a coat. It was a perfect fit and I smiled as I brought it to the cashier to pay.
"Will this be all today?"
"Yes" I replied, "I just had twins and was in desperate need to find a new coat that would fit me until I lose the rest of this dreaded baby-weight. This will work great." I said smiling.
"Congratulations!" The unsuspecting cashier replied, "What did you have?"
And that's when I said it- the door had been opened- and with such ease I said,
"I had two boys- but one DIED!"
I remember the look on her face. The horror. She was at a loss.
I remember watching her as she searched for her words- her mouth hung open- searching-
I didn't help her- I stood and watched her- so uncomfortable- I sat and watched-
"I'm so very sorry."
"Thank you." I took my coat and left the department store and as I walked to my car, a sinking feeling crept over me. That poor cashier- just doing her job- I had made her so uncomfortable- why had I done that- why had I felt the need to tell her-
The Coat was one of many trips. Trips to stores to talk about my babies- my baby that DIED- returning the many items that I had received 'doubles' of at showers- Trips for clothing items- casual trips to buy groceries-
I found myself talking about them to strangers- Anyone who would listen.
"I had twins, and one DIED!"
In that moment- as I would say those words- see the horror on their face- I felt good. Something about their reaction- made me feel good-
And then- as I walked away from my victims- I would feel remorse- Why? Why had I felt the need to share my grief with these people- these poor innocent people? Why?
It was in that season that I knew.
I knew I needed help.
And I wasn't sure if the Secret Society knew the answers-
And so I went-
I went to see a counselor-
Someone who spoke to people like me-
Crazy people-
Because... well... I felt crazy!
I didn't know what to do-
I hadn't ever seen a counselor before.
I knew I had an hour and I needed to talk.
I spoke to her-
said his name-
and cried-
I told her about my victims
about what I was doing-
and cried-
She sat and listened as I talked for my hour-
an hour I paid for-
and with each word some of the weight I brought in that room lifted-
But still I needed to know why?
I saw her pause as she pondered my question.
I wasn't sure if this was what was supposed to happen when people see counselors-
but this was what I needed.
I looked at the clock as it ticked-
my hour almost over-
Please- tell me why?
Why?
"When a woman is pregnant- it is work. Her body works hard. Her heart works hard. She feeds her baby- she breathes for her baby- she carries the weight of her baby- it is work.
When a woman has a baby- people see that- whether they acknowledge it or not- they know she did that- she went through all of that work to bring that baby into the world- she did that- they can see it.
People can't see what you did. They see your baby and they smile- but they don't know the whole story- they don't know because they can't see him- they don't see what you see.
Perhaps that's why- Perhaps you want them to see."
Yes.
I got it.
It made sense.
I paid my money and thanked her.
I didn't feel a connection to her and I knew I wouldn't be back.
But my money was well spent.
I had my answer.
I stopped telling strangers.
Stopped saying those words that stole their breath-
I saved them.
Saved them from me.
Yes. I had done that. I carried those babies. I loved them. I breathed for them. I ate for them. I prayed for them.
I had done that.
Been the best mother I could possibly be-
Even though it wasn't enough-
I had done that.
All I could.
And knowing that was enough.
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