snapshots of Christmas

And so this is Christmas

It's Christmas eve.  The babies are sleeping.  I'm about to go wake them from their nap so that we can go to church.  Yet I know when I walk into the room and look down into their crib, emotions will overwhelm me.  I will stare at the beauty that is their life and I will weep.  And my tears will stain my cheeks.  And I will not wipe them away.  For they will be the tears of victory.  Of a battle that was won.  Of the treasure that was found.

Last Christmas, we were living with my parents.  I was miserable.  I watched everyone come and go.  Full of Christmas cheer and holiday happiness.  From my bed.  The medications I was taking were toxic.  Keeping the babies safe within me, but taking their momma to the very edge of sanity.  Last Christmas, I couldn't even picture in my mind what I would gain, but rather I only saw what I had lost.  Harper.  So much of my existence is intertwined with her.  For while she is not here on earth with me, she is with me constantly.  And I have to acknowledge the fact that had Harper lived, the boys wouldn't be here.  And I have to wonder about His plan.  For He knew it all.  And in my mind, I like to think that the very moment her heart stopped, He grabbed it.  Held it tightly in the palm of His hand, and divided it in three.  Giving each baby and me a piece of her.  So that their hearts would beat with gentleness, full of humility and gratitude.  Open to the wonder of all the world has to offer them.  And my heart now would beat with a devotion unmatched.  To life and all of its splendor.  Because life is for the living.
Many nights over the past year, I have cried.  At both the injustice of losing her and at the grace of receiving them.  For so long I have tried to separate them.  Harper.  The twins.  But maybe that's just it.  Maybe they are not meant to be separated.  My heart holds her memory.  But my heart beats for them.  They own me.  They saved me from myself.
I am crying now.  And I know that I will cry even harder at church.  Because I know that everything that has happened has brought me to this singular moment.  Of grace.  And as Silent Night is being sung in a sanctuary lit only by candlelight, and I am holding my babies, I will smile.  For this is Christmas.  This is the moment of my life.  And I am grateful.  And I am blessed.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

There have been a lot of tears at our house lately.  My tears.  I can't quite believe that my babies are almost a year old.  I can't quite believe that at this time last year, they were nestled safely within me.  Choreographing an orchestra within me.  Their movements fluid and precise, yet limited.  Limited for the confines of my uterus.  Forever safe, protected by their momma.  And now their orchestra is chaos.  It's a symphony of change.  Of movement that is not limited.  But limitless.  For every day they spend with me, I know is a day less that I have with them.  Time is a thief, and I want to catch it.  I want to stop the constant movement of the clock.  For this now, this time now is the sweetest time.  These little souls that I've been loaned, albeit briefly, are amazing.  They laugh and my heart begins to beat.  I wonder now how it ever sustained itself before.

a little cheer :)

Happy Thanksgiving :)

Oh.  What a difference a year makes.  Last Thanksgiving I was barely 25 weeks pregnant.  Starting to get both hopeful and miserable at the same time. Full of hope and what the future held for us, as my babies were growing stronger, more viable with each passing day.  Miserable from the bed rest, from the back pain, from the boredom.  Little did I know that my journey was just beginning.  The twin pregnancy was beyond difficult.  There were days that I didn't want to get out of bed.  And then there were the days that I didn't want to live.  Because even breathing was hard.  Now I look at pregnant women, all aglow, and I have tinges of jealousy.  Why do they get to have an easy pregnancy?  Something so beautiful....and I feel as if I was robbed of that.  That was a dark time.  And to be honest, I've blocked most of that out.  Even their delivery.  But in the end, despite the fact that no stranger ever put her hand on my swollen belly, or the fact that I didn't get to go to the store and register, it doesn't matter. What does matter....are the two little sprouts sleeping in the next room.  Healthy....and here on earth, with their momma. 

Happy Thanksgiving

Where did the time go?

The holiday season is upon us.  Spreading its wings like angels.  Waiting for us to exalt in its glory.  A gift awaiting the unwrapping.  Yet....as the excitement builds and every mall Santa is waiting for my babies to sit upon his lap, my heart is a harp where every string plays a different pitch of emotion. I mourn for the pregnancy I never had. For the babies that never were. For the babies in the other room that are growing into little boys. The day vanishes before me. Time is a thief. We are all its prisoners. Slaves to its demand for change. I want to pull back the curtain of night before it falls. Because once night falls, I will close my eyes and wake up to babies no more.

Wisconsin

Last weekend we drove to Wisconsin to celebrate Chris' grandmother's 90th birthday.  It was a long long long drive.  It should have taken us nine hours, but it took us thirteen hours.  Each way.  The babies did not enjoy being confined to their carseats.  And their momma didn't like being stuck in the back seat between two screaming babies.  But the minute we arrived in Wisconsin...it was well worth it.  The look on Grandma's face when she met the twins for the first time was priceless.  And as I wiped the tears from my eyes as this sweet woman held her great grandchildren for the first time, I realized just how important family is.