a bell curve

When was the last time you felt  movement?

The question that forever changed my heart.

My heart feels sad; heavy yet empty. I felt so helpless after our first miscarriage; About not being able to see or ever hold our child but losing the girls...the helplessness is just indescribable. Why? How? The first 24 hours were the most critical and they looked so good on the ultrasound. I had been feeling movement, or so I thought. When Andrew asked that question my heart raced. He said he saw some things he "didn't like." My breaths were short,  my body was quivering. Just tell me Andrew, I thought. I was half hoping (because it's all I had)that he was gonna give us some bad news, but at the very least news we could work with.... Not just, "I don't see a heartbeat in either." I watch movies and see these overwhelming reactions to people dealing with loss or death and in that moment it was me. I could not control my tears, my voice, my body. " I don't want to do this again" I bellowed. Why?

Dr. Stephenson said that when we saw them at that 24hr peak that they were at the top of the bell curve and must've just gone down and "demised" since. Their bodies were full of fluid. Gone. Just gone. No chance of reviving or emergency surgery. Just gone.

I sat on the bed and called jt. His voice was so happy and full of hope when he answered. That was how we'd all been feeling since surgery. Happy and full of hope. I wept as I told him. Uncontrollably. KC was shaking. Tears rolled from my mom's face. No! I said it 30x but it didn't change anything and it won't. That's the hard part. Nothing I do can ever bring them back. 

The ride home from Charlotte was completely quiet aside from the tears I could not stop. I stared at Troys sleeping face. Beautiful. Precious. I adore him. I'm so happy he's mine even though he's emotional. Even with the overwhelming love I feel for Troy and Kay there is still a heart aching void. To think of telling Kay only made my sobs louder . I mean telling a 9yo that has dreamt of a baby sister.. to find out she had two....and have to steal this joy from her once again.

Let operation purge, organize,and decorate commence. Troys room was the first to be tackled. Anything we could do to keep distracted and busy and focused. Over the next couple of days we worked our way through the rooms in the house. But with night came silence and the reality  that they are in fact gone and will never come back. Ever. I'll never see their smiles or hear their voices. I'll never braid their hair. Hope just turned to emptiness. Anger.

I could have them surgically removed or deliver them. Of course I furrowed my brow that fateful day on the bed that Dr. Stephenson presented this to me. I don't want to have to hold them. Deliver them??? Are you serious? That'll be too hard. Too scarring. Damaging. Emotional.

 One last ultrasound happened at Green Valley OBGYN. I prayed, thought good and positive vibes even though I was full of fear. It didn't help. Still nothing on their ultrasound . I spoke on the phone later that night with Dr. Stephenson about the risks of each option. Surgery vs delivery. I was leaning toward delivery. It was safer and more natural. I had to think of our future as a family. I had to pick a date. A time. I had to tell Kay. This is all too much.

We sat on the beanbag in her newly laid out, decorated, and organized room. "The girls didn't make it sweetie" as I sobbed. "I'm so sorry", I said over and over. Why did this have to be real. The tears fell from her face and sobs ensued. How heart crushing and disappointing. No little girl, let alone the sweetest and most thoughtful and well behaved one, should have to go through this.  I brought her to my lap and hugged her tight. We rocked back and forth and just cried.

How do you explain to a 9yo this type of thing. I am struggling with the religious side of this so I will just keep those comments to myself. Simply put we/she told her that one of the girls was not strong enough and since they were both connected, once one went so did the other. They wanted to be together.


Some families Kayleigh, can go a string of 5 or 10 years and nothing go wrong but unfortunately, for our family in the current moment that is just not the case. When you feel your heart is in a million pieces you pick them up and put on the bravest face you can but know that it is OK to cry when picking up the pieces. Her tears slowed. She wiped her eyes and her red nose and Aunt KC got smiles out of her as they worked their way through an old photo album. Next, we were on to Maxie B's for cake and trying to numb and forget our present sorrow.

January 24th came and Uncle Nik was in charge of Troy. The drive to Charlotte was pleasant. KC and I talked about volleyball and other pleasantries but once we parked in the parking garage the reality set in. Last time we were here we were scared. Scared but optimistic and full of hope.  This time I knew what was coming. I took deep breaths. We were escorted to the room. 8606. I undressed and sat down on the bed and the tears fell. This is real. It's going to happen no matter how much I don't want it to. There is nothing I can do to bring them back. 

After two awfully painful needle pricks to get an IV started I was then given the worst epidural of all time. Correct me if I'm wrong  but if I'm given the numbing agent aren't I supposed to not feel much?? Instead I felt like drop kicking the anesthesiologist in the throat. Sounds cruel but really I just had an epidural less than a week ago and felt nothing after the first "bee sting" so when you tell me to relax and this is "normal pressure"that's like when my husband tells me to relax. Never a pleasant reaction. 

Every 3.5 hours the Dr.was to come and insert medicine to get my cervix to open. I watched the time go by and dreaded every second that ticked. Time was all I had with them to hang onto before they were pulled from me. I didn't get much sleep. I began running a fever so was being pumped full of antibiotics and extra fluid. Every 30min the nurse came and asked me how I was feeling?  Really, I know what she meant but I wanted to answer "I'm numb from the waist down am running a fever and am about to give "birth" to two deceased babies how bout you ask me one more time how I'm feeling." I'm being a snot I know but I just wanted some peace and quiet. I wanted a pizza. I wanted Popsicles. I wanted my girls but it's true what they say that you don't always get what you want. 

I finally felt the pressure the nurse was talking about. I did not want to press the call button. I sensed the urgency in her voice when she called the team to come in. This is it  I thought. As hard as it was carrying them knowing they were gone I felt close and connected with them. Does this really have to end? "You've delivered one" said the Dr. Huh? I didn't even push! The tears came. I held my mom's hand tight. I looked over at KC. Her sparkling teary blue eyes and a head nod confirmed. I pushed for Baby B but after a while they told me to not waste energy and to just let my uterus contract and push her down. About an hour later I felt the pressure again. She came with a bit more pushing. Next was Mass C. I've watched movies before and saw the stress and pure exhaustion on women's faces as they pushed. I was lightheaded,  worn out, and tired. I wanted something good to come of this. Dr.Stephenson was to look at the mass and placenta for research and further explanation for the demise of the girls. I had to do all the pushing so the placenta would be left in tact. An hour later and it was over. 

I sat on the bed being shielded  from the buckets of red blood and beds where they laid. I saw my mom and KC leaning over them talking with the nurse, Pam. Tears were streaming from their faces. I'd been shielded from any of the delivery  but here they were with front row seats. I thought  Dr.  Stephenson an idiot when she'd  presented labor but then slowly came to. Now, the thought of seeing them and holding them made all the more sense.  I asked my mom and KC what they looked like. Beautiful they said. Small but beautiful. Small but mighty. I'd regret only getting to see a bloody table and buckets over not getting to see and hold them. 

It took jt a moment to grasp me wanting to see them once I got him on the phone. The most loving father never got to hold his precious girls. I'm so heartbroken for him. The nurse wheeled them in. They were swaddled together. They were beautiful. So tiny. So cold. I inspected their tiny hands and their dainty fingernails. Kissed their faces while trying to get j.t. the best feed possible. It was a hard choice to deliver but it was the best. I am so thankful for the time I had with them. 

Audrey Grace was delivered  January 25th at 10:36am weighing in at 7.2oz. Bryn Avery came at 11:40 am weighing 8.8oz. 

This is not the saddest story for headlines. So many have endured so much worse but this is my/our reality and it sucks. If I'm lucky I'll bear children again but it won't be them. They are gone. Forever. One day my perspective will change. One day I'll see this all in a different light. But today, in this moment, this is as honest and as real as I can be. I never stop longing to have them back with me. The sadness is heavy and consuming. It's beautiful and amazing how attached you get. This was not only a loss for me. It was a loss for so many. Our girls were loved. I am so happy for that but devastated for how it has affected everyone. J.T. , KC, my mom, Nik, Kay etc. Hearing my father-in-law cry was so hard to swallow. I wish them all comfort and peace in the days to come.

I know the days ahead will be much like a bell curve. A roller coaster of emotions if you will. Low lows. High highs. I have to stop myself from constantly thinking of the moment they passed. I wonder if they were in pain and felt anything. It brings such sorrow thinking they were hurting or scared. I know in the days and years to come I will wake up thinking of them and go to sleep wishing I could read them a story. I'll wonder what they'd look like and what they would sound like. I'll wonder what those tiny cold hands I touched in the hospital would grow into. 31 days. I had you 31 days physically. It was the best 31 days. A love to last a lifetime. 

Cheers, LB

Thank you Mom for changing your flight. I needed you and you were there. You've always been there. Thank you KC for your ridiculously selfless ways; and for all you gave up and continue to. Thank you for starting the fund to help with the expenses. It has been so helpful and a stress reliever. Thank you J.T. for being there in the best way you could. Thank you for being our provider and rock. For loving us and your country. You've missed so much time with your kids. They miss you.  I miss you. Thank you Audrey and Bryn for reminding me that family is forever. Forever in our hearts and mind.