Lately I have had this feeling more and more that Maci looks like MJ. I don't know why I don't see Will in her eyes. I just see MJ. Her round, cute, adorable, little face reminds me so much of his round, cute, adorable little face. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense because Will and MJ were identical twins.

Which makes me remember more and more how much I don't remember of Will during his first year.

I wish I didn't have this life. I wish all my children were alive. I've conceived four children. I hold two in my arms. Pretty bad odds if you ask me.

Yesterday I attempted to explain to Will what a twin was and how he has and doesn't have a twin brother at the same time. Conversation #1,893 that sucks.

Where I'm At

It's been almost three and a half years since we said hello and goodbye to MJ over the course of 35 days. Looking back it feels like we simply watched him die over five weeks that summer in 2009. It's hard. Oh. So. Hard.

So many people simply cannot imagine, for that I am thankful there are so few people who really get us, and what we've been through. But then again it is incredibly hard to relay the people we have emerged to become in the wake of intense grief and mourning. I feel alive again. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive. After the birth of Maci I was in a blissful bubble for awhile. I was SO incredibly thankful and amazed she was here, and alive, and healthy. I spent my entire pregnancy with her fearing she'd never live to come home. I planned her funeral in my head many, many times over. Having her here, in my arms and alive was pure bliss for the first six months of her life or so.

Then summer came and the boys' third birthday. For a long time I had decided there would be no birthday party for Will this year. I didn't think I could really handle it. This birthday was so much harder than last. The pain was much more intense this summer. Then the end of August came, and the anniversary of when MJ died. September was a really hard month for me. Willie and I had an incredibly busy summer (Maci had been to California, New York, Chicago, and St. Louis by the time she was 8 months old!) and we needed life to calm down. In the middle of our craziness my grief intensified and by September I had nothing left to give. I shut down and took it out on my husband. Thankfully, I married a pretty awesome guy and he loved me through it. September was our roughest month as a couple. I am so thankful we are on the other side of that. I am leveling off, and my grief it not so intense. I always, always ache for MJ, but not as intensely as I did this summer.

Things are still hard though. No one will ever quite 'get' us. And that is coming through more and more lately. We are whole heartedly different people then we ever thought we would be. We grieve differently then most people do, too I guess. We strive to keep MJ in our daily lives as much as possible. We talk about him, show his pictures to Will and Maci, and make sure he has special days, just like our other children do.

But for some reason that is getting harder and harder to do for MJ. Not for us, but for people around us. It hurts, a lot to realize that his existence is slowly fading. It won't ever fade for me, at least I never plan on it. We were told recently we needed to start moving on, and letting go. I can't and I won't. Its very simple for me. I have three children. I will do everything and anything for each of them. Those people who tell us those things, or who compare our loss to the loss of parents, friends, or other family members hurt us beyond anything they could imagine. Its not the same. I may sound harsh and probably a little jaded. But having my son DIE IN MY ARMS is not, and can never be compared to the loss of a parent, or friend, or aunt, or uncle. I hate that we've been told its the same. I hate that people think they get it when they never even met MJ.

So where am I at? I am happy, for the first time in a long time I am happy. But I also have a broken heart. Will and Maci have helped me heal in ways I could never explain. But I am forever scarred, and MJ is worth that. My son is worth and was worth the pain each and every day. I have found a way to live with it, and yet it still breaks my hear that others think I need to forget. Maybe one day I'll have the strength to say screw 'em and what they think. I'm not there yet. Each and every day I am getting better, healing more, but missing my son more at the same time. That's where I'm at. 

Seasons

I've been thinking a lot about the seasons lately and how greatly affected I am by the changing weather. Summer used to be my favorite season, my favorite time of year. And while at times it still is, I also dread it in so many ways. Summer is when Will and MJ were born, and shortly after, MJ died. It's so hard to go through their birthday, and then subsequently MJ's death five weeks later. July and August are really the hardest. But then I remember the anticipation of their birth during that summer three and a half years ago. I was so incredibly excited to become a mother to my twins. I didn't have a clue MJ would die. We knew MJ was going to be born sick, but I truly never thought he would die. I was worried, yes, but the thought of death was largely ignored in my pregnant mind.

The Fall after MJ died was filled with pain and overwhelming grief. We tried to do out best with and for Will. We took him to a pumpkin patch; went out and about with him, and our hearts were beginning to feel again as the numbness wore off. It was both good and bad, as the pain really started to cut, but we were also able to smile and find humor again. I am finding much of the same this Fall. I am beginning to feel like I am in a really good place. I am able to say without hesitation that I am happy. I look back at the past three years and am feeling like we are on the upswing of healing, rather than the downfall of horrid pain. And it amazes me how many times I have thought and felt that. I suppose I always will, as this grief thing is ever changing and will take a lifetime to figure out. I suppose I never will actually figure it out, though. At time I can't believe its been three years, and at times it seems like its been forever.

Spring was a new beginning for us the year after MJ died. We had decided to start trying to have another baby. I stopped breastfeeding, and we waited for my period to come so we could start to try. It didn't come, and we were surprised. I was surprised. I truly thought there was no way we would have to go through fertility treatments again after all we'd been through. I was wrong, very wrong. For some reason I just thought there was no way we'd be exposed to so much pain again. We were. But we were still healing. And then summer came.

That summer we were starting to come on the first year birthday for Will, and MJ's first anniversary. It hurt and was harder to go through then I ever thought. I felt that year as though I was reliving each and every moment again, with each day passing. I think I was numb on Will's birthday. We made that day all about him, and you'd never know from the pictures. Their birthday has to be about Will. It is the only way to do it in our minds, so July 25 is always a happy birthday that celebrates Will. But I cannot lie. Those early morning moments when I think about how we should have two little boys to celebrate hurt. A lot. The pain sears right to my core time and time again that day. And those horrible days in between July 25 and August 29 are just as worse. I think of it as my 'limbo' period. Those 5 short weeks that MJ was once alive, and then it all crashes down on August 29.

Then the seasons change and our hearts feel better. Fall seems as if it is a new beginning, and we start to feel better again, maybe better than the year before.

It's amazing how each year, each season can have such an effect on my grieving heart. Alas, this is my life, and slowly I am getting used to the changing emotions that come as the leaves fall, snow comes, buds emerge, or the sun brightens.