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Showing posts from April, 2012

The Waiting

In the pristine exercise studio the tan instructor (who is nice and thin and not pregnant!) instructs the expecting ladies around her in a perfectly orchestrated workout.  They move smoothly through the routine without breaking into a sweat and smiling sweetly all the time.  If only they could see this workout video played out in a real house with real tiny children and an out of shape pregnant mom!  I am on all fours trying to do the seriously modified pushups with Abby clinging to my middle in protest and Alena whacking me in the face and laughing hilariously each time I come up! I just give up and lay there laughing.  I am truly glad that there is no video of us!  Sometimes having two tiny ones can make life seem a little crazy.  Nevertheless, after some recent conversations with friends whose children are teenagers, I realize that I might be in the easiest part of parenting after all.  It's true that last week I found a girl and her crib covered in poop, barely stopped her

16 Weeks and 5 Days

16 weeks and 5 days today.   That's how long I have been carrying this little one.  Last night I lay in bed and felt anxious for no particular reason.  I knew that this time was approaching, but I hadn't figured out exactly the day.  As I lay there calculating, it dawned on me that it would be tomorrow.  It's amazing how your subconscious can be aware of things without you even realizing it.  Our counselor had warned us this sort of thing would happen as the girls grew older. So this morning I sit on the back porch watching the pink sky and trying not to think about it.  That when I was 16 weeks and 5 days pregnant with the twins, Makiah died.   She asked me constantly before she died if the girls could hear her voice yet.  She would talk to them and tell them how cute they were.  She would exclaim, "Little babies, you are soooo loved!"  Every night she would give them each a kiss and a "hug" through my belly.  It was her own idea! The girls are todd

A Resurrection

Makiah's Daddy says bedtime prayers with her the same as every night.   Sun beating on our backs.  He names each family member in the order that she likes.  Tears and names intermingle with sobs barely suppressed.  He prayers for her his daily special requests.  Words straining to reach the throne room but seeming instead to drop like weighty rocks into hard, uncaring earth that has just been dug.  Her Daddy sings Jesus Loves Me just like every night.  Voice cracking.  Faltering.  The people have all gone except a few who stand in waiting.  He finishes... "the Bible tells me so."  Kisses her good night.   Tiny, pink roses and  delicate petals all around.  I lean down and press quivering lips into the dainty pink smocking across her chest.  As if to kiss her heart again.  One last time.  Before they close the little, white box forever.  Before we drive away.  Just the two of us. And it seems that all fairy tales are lies.  That my wistful, childhood dreaming of a life th