Some days are bad. Those are the days that I am listless, irritable, weepy and sad. I cry after I put Gwenevere down for her nap and I allow myself to feel the deep pain from the loss of my son and daughter. I see people post pregnancy and new baby pictures on facebook and I block their posts. Their joy just adds to my pain. I will never again be excited at the sight of a positive pregnancy test, I will be fearful. On the bad days I am angry. I am angry at my body for not allowing my babies to live. I am angry at the world for not grinding to a halt to allow me to grieve. I am angry at the hospital for not doing more to save my babies. But mostly, I am just lost.
Other days are good. I laugh with my family. I enjoy watching my daughter grow and learn and I enjoy the quiet time with my husband. I dance, and play, and smile. Sometimes the good days are the hardest. I realize at the end of day that I am only tucking in one of my three children. Gwenevere gets a goodnight kiss and I lay her in her crib with her blankets and I tell her how much I love her. Then I walk into the other bedroom and gently place my hands on James and Penelope's urns. They are cold to the touch. I say goodnight and tell them how much I love them.
As the weeks go by since I said goodbye to my son and daughter I have more good days. I find myself able to get through a whole day without crying at times. This isn't because I have forgotten them or moved on. It's the process of grief. I know I will always have bad days. As time goes on they will be fewer and far between. I also know that I will never have a day that I don't miss James and Penelope. They are a part of our family. Most of my days will be good days, but even on a good day I am still missing two of my children.