Yesterday was my due date for Penelope and James. It came and went like any other day. I actually didn't even remember it was their due date until late last night. Due dates are a funny thing. Almost from the moment you discover you are pregnant you look eight months into the future at this looming date when your baby will be born. Very rarely do babies actually arrive on this date. My daughter Gwenevere was born exactly one week early. I went into labor at work on Tuesday morning and I passed it off as normal pregnancy pains. It didn't even register to me that I could be in labor because I hadn't reached that magical date yet. Eighteen hours later Gwenevere arrived.
I had several different due dates with the twins. When I first discovered I was pregnant I calculated the date myself and discovered that I was due on December 18th. At my first OB appointment I was told that I was due on December 20th. Then, several weeks later when we found out that I was carrying twins we were given a twin due date of November 30th. Finally, when I switched to a new OB they told me the first Doctor had miscalculated and that my actual twin due date was November 28th. I never would have thought that they would have arrived on August 19th.
In the months following the birth and death of James and Penelope I dreaded facing November 28th. I imagined it would be a day that I would lock myself in my room and cry. Now that it has actually happened I realize that it's just another day of grief. There have been better days and worse days, it's not determined by the calendar.
Many things serve as painful reminders of my son and daughter. Lately it has been twins. It seems that everywhere I go is flooded with twins. I'm actually starting to wonder if there is something in the water around me, there is an unnatural occurance of twins. I recently took Gwenevere to the library and found myself surrounded. There was a set of twin to my left, and a set of twins to my right. I looked down to take a moment to breath and there on the floor was a board book titiled "Bath Time For Twins". I had to laugh, the only other choice was to cry and I wasn't in the mood for sobbing in public.
I know that as time goes on certain things will remind me of my loss. I hope that eventually I will be able to see twins and not feel a burning sense of jealousy. I hope that I will be better equipped to handle the floods of emotion that come and go. Most days I cry, some days a little and some days a lot. I miss my children. I miss who they could have become and who they were. I would still give anything to be able to kiss their tiny faces again or hold them in my arms. I simply miss them, not just on their due date, but everyday.