.... and so it goes...

The Woodchuck Limited Edition Fall Hard Cider is in and currently being consumed... the TV is off... Fiona Apple is on... and I think I am ready to continue where I left off the other day. I began my little story in the third person... why? No clue... it just flowed out that way. But this next bit isn't gonna come out the way. It's just not.

I can not count the number of women that I know, have known, have read about, have seen that have experienced a loss of pregnancy. It is one of the most emotionally painful things that can happen to a woman I think. It was for me. Each and every woman's loss is different. Circumstances are never the same. To compare one woman's loss to another is unfair. That said, my personal loss was like a scene from a really horrible Lifetime movie. I felt like I was in a movie. A very bad surreal movie with crappy acting. It began with the ultrasound guy who said nothing as he poked and prodded and the crease between his brows grew. I knew, I just knew something was horribly wrong. He excused himself from the room. He returned. He continued to say nothing. Being young and inexperienced we sat there... not asking anything for an eternity. I saw them. Two heads face to face on the screen, and yet this guy was saying nothing. I couldn't take it anymore. I asked if it was twins. He said yes, but there is no heartbeat. None. He ended the exam and promptly sent me to the doctor who, after reviewing what he saw, explained that there was indeed no heartbeats, and more than... worse than that... worse than anything I could have possibly fathomed in my entire lifetime.... they were conjoined.

Things from that point on became very blurry. I believe several explanations were given. Discussion over what would happen next occurred. I can't remember exactly, because I was somewhere else asking God... what did I do wrong? I was consumed with that one and only thought. It was the Friday before Mother's Day. They sent me home with the hope that my body would do what it needed to on it's own. It didn't. I got a Mother's Day card in the mail. That I remember very clearly. Monday I had a procedure done, to prepare me for Tuesday.... and on that Tuesday in May I delivered my twins, conjoined, and stillborn and too tiny to even know if they were boys or girls. They were joined at the chest and shared all their vital organs. It was undoubtedly for the best. That is clear. It is known. But that one little thought took up room in brain... What did I do wrong for this to have happened. There was heartbreak. There was unbelievable indescribable pain. The next day my husband went to work. He seemed resigned to it all like nothing had happened and continued his routine. To this day I really don't know what he thought or how he felt or even if he grieved. And this, my dears, was sadly the beginning of the end of a marriage that had barely begun. And with the beginning of the end looming, it was the start of some serious depression, weakness, vulnerability, and in a way.... abuse....

I gave so much brain-space to that one question.... that one thought....