(I’m aware that you can only see the photo in the previous post if you follow me on Instagram. That was the easiest way to get the news out there at the time. I plan to write a proper post explaining exactly what happened but I just can’t right now.)
The worst thing about this entire situation is that I’ve lost so much more than just our babies – and legally not even that. At almost 17 weeks, this is considered a late-term miscarriage. They don’t get to be registered or officially named. Legally, we are not and have never been parents. My baby boys will forever be no more than a footnote in my medical history. And yet they were here, they were real. I saw them. I told them I loved them. And now they’re gone.
But that’s not all I’ve lost.
We were, of course, looking forward to being parents… but also specifically to being twin parents. Two babies at once was obviously going to be a challenge, but I am convinced, also very rewarding. We had already started discussing twin prams, how to feed two at once, where they would sleep. Although we hadn’t bought anything yet, everything was finally starting to feel real. All those dreams, all those plans are also gone.
I had started daydreaming about life with our babies. Who would they take after? What colour eyes would they have? Would they be musical like Jan? Would they love books as much as I do? Now I will never know any of those things.
And beyond that… beyond just me. Yes, I’ve lost my babies… but I’ve also lost Jan’s sons. Our parents’ first grandchildren. They would have been nephews, great-grandsons… they would have been so loved and cherished. Now all that’s gone as well.
We will get through this. We won’t give up and we will have another baby. But we won’t have these babies. And that really hurts.