I just feel robbed.
I could have handled having lost one baby. I know that statistically, it very well could happen. And when I saw on the ultrasound that there was no heartbeat, I was sad and crushed, but I knew it was a part of life and the gamble of getting pregnant.
But the chances of naturally getting pregnant with twins are small. And then to lose them before I ever really knew I had them is worse. I never got to experience those wild fantasies about my babies, what it would be like to have twins, how they would grow up together. I never got to have the hopeful anxiety over having to raise 4 kids, and what I was going to do at home alone with these 4 kids under the age of 4. I never got to imagine whether or not they would be identical. I never got to imagine what it would be like to be a part of that elite group of mothers-of-multiples. I didn’t get to have that joy and awe in carrying two lives in my belly.
Because I didn’t know until they were gone.
Last night, I lay in bed crying and clutching my belly, riddled with guilt over my babies, knowing that it would be my last night with them. The last night I would know them and that I would be their mommy. The last night that I would be a mother of twins.
Because I am not anymore. I bleed as though they were never there. I cry because they always will be.