October is National Infant/SIDS/Pregnancy Loss awareness month, so let me first start off by saying to all those mothers, fathers, and family members that are a part of this club I AM SORRY. This is not a club anyone wants to join but here we are mourning losses and standing strong for one another. For those of you in the smaller unwanted twinless twin club, I am also here. Standing, trying to not be defined by it but definitely marked by it.
Everyone’s story is different, but they all end in heartbreak. Here is a little about mine:
My boys are 15 months apart and I am frequently asked by strangers if they are twins. An innocent question that leaves me stammering for the correct answer, literally takes the breath out of my lungs, it leaves my heart screaming out in pain. I want to say, “No they are not twins but the oldest has a twin sister.” Instead, I simply say “no they are not” and hope the conversation stops there. It has been three years since my daughter passed away and I still despise that question. I am able to recover much quicker but it has taken some time.
I was 24 weeks pregnant when my body decided it had enough of being pregnant. I had been on bed rest for three weeks prior. My body tried to dictate to me at 21 weeks that it had had enough. I fought back. For three weeks I laid in a hospital bed keeping those little twin babies of mine as safe as possible. On April 07th, 2015 my sweet little twins were born into this world at an innocent 1 pound 6 ounces and 12.5 inches, 16 weeks too early. Do you know the survival statistics for a baby born into the world this early? Let me just say they are not pretty.
So, onto the next phase of the journey. The twins were whisked into the NICU and we were left numb. As the hours passed it quickly became noticeable that our little boy was very sick. He was going to have to fight hard to survive. Then we were told for being born at a mere 24 weeks our daughter was a rock star. She was our little ray of hope! We would come visit her and there she would be, eyes open, delicately moving in her incubator; for being so tiny it was amazing to us she had such a strong personality. For nine days this was life. Numerous conversations of how sick our son was and how strong our daughter was. Day nine and ten of this journey were game changers. Unbeknownst to us, these would be the last two days we would spend together as a new family of four.
Day nine started like any other, the standard roller coaster ride of the NICU. By late in the evening and on into the early hours of day ten our daughter’s ride had quickly changed course and her journey here on earth had timed out. Almost as fast as she came into this world the infection took over and she was gone. Gone was our daughter, but more importantly, gone was my son’s sister. He knew her better than anyone. He had spent the most time with her. Life as we thought it would be as a mom, dad, and twin siblings were now just a memory.
We look like your average family of four but we are a family of five, one of us being in heaven. One of us being a twinless twin. Will I look at him every day with sorrow that he has lost his other half? No. My son survived 95 days in the NICU and currently is a healthy three year old. I am simply amazed by how much he has overcome in his short three years of life. I will, however, grieve everyday because I miss her as well as what they could have been together as twins. We are a twinless twin family and with that comes a different set of guidelines for navigating grief.
Stacy is a WMB Events Team members and stay-at-home mom with two little boys and a hard working-husband. She is connoisseur of all things toddler boy. Playing with cars, painting and outdoor adventures are her favorites. When she is not seeing the world from her children’s eyes, she loves spending time with family & friends, coffee
dates, exercising and watching sports with a cold glass of white wine.
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