Thanks to mekate and her the Heartwork Campfire I got this post done. I set a small goal, I allowed some work to get done and then went off to play with my children in the sun, then I came back and finished. I also watched her video about Fear and took it to my heart to let a little of mine fly off my fingers and into this post. Maybe a little more will leave my heart too. Thank you sweet Kate.
I will be going ahead with a new blog and leaving this one behind soon. I will post the new name and link to all but keep this one around for a few years as a reference point. I think it is important to have that sense of history, but I didn't want to muddy IF Optimist with new categories and wanderings. I need to keep this place clean and special.
I didn't post too much after the girls were born because it was just SO HARD. MrBeep wasn't exactly there for me (but that is another long post). My time in the NICU was so scary. I sat by my sweet babies every day, all day. Hoping and aching that they would be OK. Even going to sleep was stressful because, what if I wasn't there and they needed me? What if they would stop breathing again? What if the nurses didn't respond to an alarm, again? Who was there to protect them? I slept in the NICU on the nights my favorite night nurses weren't on shift. I was more that just Mommy. I was their protector. I was their advocate when things "just didn't seem right." This was not just a day or two. It was weeks and months. I didn't get much sleep, I had almost no contact outside of the hospital. It was flu season and I didn't want to get sick and be denied access to my daughters.
Despair is a very good word that I lived with for a long time.
Then they finally came home, healthy and chubby and wonderful. And I still didn't post. It wasn't just because of the near impossible task of taking care of preemie twins mostly on my own, but I couldn't be that person who finally got the family she had been waiting and hoping for and then have most of her new posts be depression and whining about how hard everything was and how alone she feels all the time.
I didn't want to be that person. I was so tired. I was so afraid. Afraid that my community wouldn't understand or that I would be told to just get over it.
Looking back, I realize by making that decision...
I lost the only community that really got it. I lost a connection to other wonderful and intelligent women out there who may have offered compassion or advice to alleviate my internal suffering. I lost the opportunity to be there for someone else too. I loved so much to read and comment.
Comments to me are more than a mere exchange of brief niceties. The comments I have received embraced me into a rare and precious community. I wish that the comments I have left for others have given comfort and compassion, sometimes laughter and even hope.
When the girls turned 19 months I started to get more regular sleep, I finally stopped using up hours pumping breastmilk for them and bits of free time emerged. I wanted to write about the good, so much good and priceless treasures I experience daily with these extraordinary little people. But then "survivor's guilt" hits and you feel edgy about pouring out your heart to say how absolutely wonderful it feels to finally have your family. You don't want to cause pain in the hearts of those who have supported you, so what do you do?
But that doesn't really work, does it? I missed the community, but my place in that community was different or did I really even have a place? I find myself a bit lost and confused some times. Do you feel lost being an both an infertile and a mother with a child/children?
The real truth is that many of my bloggidy pals who are still around have families of their own now and they write exquisite posts. They will look back in the years to come and have all of those stories as clear as the day they penned them. I missed a grand opportunity to document all of the things that have happened in the last two years. I am very sad and a bit disappointed in myself for that.
I forgive myself.
I also make myself a promise...
By the time the girls turn 2, I will have a new place to pour my heart and joys into.
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