Until a new bill recently passed, New York State did not acknowledge the birth of any baby born still (birth certificates are called "Certificate of Live Birth", not applicable if the baby was born still). In addition, the parents do not receive a copy of the fetal death certificate, unless they request it (not exactly something you are thinking to ask for in the hospital). You can request the certificate after the fact, but must have the request notarized. There is no need for a name of the baby on the death certificate, so they baby remains unacknowledged. As far as New York State is concerned, the baby was never born, so therefore, a baby never actually died; they only acknowledge the termination of the pregnancy.
Thanks to some very dedicated mothers, this will soon change. Beginning in March, New York State will offer Certificates of Stillbirth. The law is retroactive, so anyone who has had a stillbirth (at more than 20 weeks gestation) can request a birth certificate for their baby. (Our stillbirth was at 20 weeks and 4 days, so we cross the required threshold to qualify.)
After coming home from the hospital, it took a while to sink in that we would not receive birth certificates. Once it did, we were very upset, but poured our energy into the March of Dimes. We were so grateful to these wonderfully dedicated mothers for making this happen. We are very excited for March, when we can request the certificates for our babies. We will proudly display them as proof that our babies were, in fact, born.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Trying Again
In an effort to cope with the loss of our twins, my husband announced (to anyone who would listen) that we would be trying again as soon as the doctor gave us the okay. I wasn't sure that I would be ready right away, but I was devastated when the doctor told us at our follow up appointment that he recommended we wait six months before trying again. Our grief over the loss of the twins was three-fold: (1) the loss of Caiden and Kaylie - a pain that would dull with time, but could never go away completely, no matter how many more children we have, (2) the loss of the excitement of twins - this part could be relieved if we have twins again in the future, but my doctor assured me that in all likelihood we will never conceive twins again (what he perceived to be good news, but I took as another devastating blow), and (3) the loss of having a baby, especially while all of our friends were bringing home healthy babies. The last, at least, was something that we could fix by starting to try again. So, although I didn't want to start trying the next week, I thought a month or two would be a good waiting period.
At my follow up appointment to the D&C, the doctor had changed his mind. He said that it was good to wait six months to allow my body to return to normal before getting pregnant again, but since we didn't know that we would be successful on our first try, he thought it was okay for us to start trying sooner. I was ecstatic! Much sooner than I had originally anticipated, I would be able to do something to relieve some of our grief.
However, I did not anticipate the emotional roller coaster that was to come. I knew that when I was pregnant again it would be the craziest roller coaster ride we had ever been on, but I didn't expect the effort to get us there would also be a roller coaster. Over several agonizing months, we experienced the roller coaster - the raw emotions of "moving forward" after our loss (not that we were forgetting or minimizing our loss, but working to move forward nonetheless), the tears with every negative pregnancy test from sadness that we were unsuccessful yet again and frustration about the unfairness that we had to go through the roller coaster again the next month. During this time, I lived my life two weeks at a time: two weeks of doing whatever I wanted: drinking, eating raw cookie dough, getting tattoos (okay only one), and two weeks of being on my best behavior in case we had been successful.
However, thankfully, after these agonizing months, we had a positive pregnancy test! I had expected to be filled with mixed emotions and most likely more scared than happy at the sight of those two little pink lines, but just the opposite happened. I was over the moon! Scared, of course, but that was secondary to my excitement. I took the test on a Sunday morning. I was the lector at church later that morning. At my church, the lector sits all by themselves, to the side of the Altar. It was a good thing I was alone, because during the quiet prayer times, I could barely keep the tears of excitement out of my eyes.
One additional exciting note is that the due date is our wedding anniversary! I fully expect a roller coaster of emotions until then (or whenever the baby decides to arrive), but I hope that I can enjoy every crazy minute of it. I know all too well that things can go terribly wrong in a heartbeat, and then all you have to look back on are the pictures and memories. So my goal is to get as many pictures, videos, audio files of our baby as possible and make as many memories as one small family can manage over the next several months. If anything goes wrong, at least we will have these things to remind us of happier times, and if we end up with a healthy baby, we will have even more to treasure.
At my follow up appointment to the D&C, the doctor had changed his mind. He said that it was good to wait six months to allow my body to return to normal before getting pregnant again, but since we didn't know that we would be successful on our first try, he thought it was okay for us to start trying sooner. I was ecstatic! Much sooner than I had originally anticipated, I would be able to do something to relieve some of our grief.
However, I did not anticipate the emotional roller coaster that was to come. I knew that when I was pregnant again it would be the craziest roller coaster ride we had ever been on, but I didn't expect the effort to get us there would also be a roller coaster. Over several agonizing months, we experienced the roller coaster - the raw emotions of "moving forward" after our loss (not that we were forgetting or minimizing our loss, but working to move forward nonetheless), the tears with every negative pregnancy test from sadness that we were unsuccessful yet again and frustration about the unfairness that we had to go through the roller coaster again the next month. During this time, I lived my life two weeks at a time: two weeks of doing whatever I wanted: drinking, eating raw cookie dough, getting tattoos (okay only one), and two weeks of being on my best behavior in case we had been successful.
However, thankfully, after these agonizing months, we had a positive pregnancy test! I had expected to be filled with mixed emotions and most likely more scared than happy at the sight of those two little pink lines, but just the opposite happened. I was over the moon! Scared, of course, but that was secondary to my excitement. I took the test on a Sunday morning. I was the lector at church later that morning. At my church, the lector sits all by themselves, to the side of the Altar. It was a good thing I was alone, because during the quiet prayer times, I could barely keep the tears of excitement out of my eyes.
One additional exciting note is that the due date is our wedding anniversary! I fully expect a roller coaster of emotions until then (or whenever the baby decides to arrive), but I hope that I can enjoy every crazy minute of it. I know all too well that things can go terribly wrong in a heartbeat, and then all you have to look back on are the pictures and memories. So my goal is to get as many pictures, videos, audio files of our baby as possible and make as many memories as one small family can manage over the next several months. If anything goes wrong, at least we will have these things to remind us of happier times, and if we end up with a healthy baby, we will have even more to treasure.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Halloween
When Caiden and Kaylie were born so early, I had not yet started to plan much of their future. I hadn't even found a doctor or daycare for them yet. I hadn't started to dream of their weddings or them becoming a doctor or lawyer (although we had talked about them becoming professional athletes). I hadn't designed the nursery yet. I hadn't put much thought into their Christmas presents. But I had started to plan for Halloween.
Every year we go a little more over the top with costumes for our animals. I enjoy dressing them up. I even enjoy all the eye rolling that I get from family and friends about the fact that we are dressing up our animals. Everyone has told us "If you do all this for your animals, I can't wait until you have kids to see how you dress them up!" With a challenge like that I had to start planning early! I was excited with all the fun possibilities for twin costumes. We had only known for a couple weeks that we were having a boy and a girl, so I had only started to think about costumes, but I had planned that there would be many!
Now that all of those hopes are dashed, I am having a hard time with the impending holiday. I bought a couple of figurines of teddy bears dressed in costumes - one boy (frankenstein) and one girl (a witch) and brought them to the cemetery. They are perched on the gravestone. But I really don't want to participate in Halloween this year. We have been invited to a number of parties, but I don't feel like dressing up and partying. I also don't want to invite trick-or-treaters to my house and give out candy. I just want to hibernate until the holiday is over. Maybe this is me avoiding my grief and it is unhealthy, but who wants to go trick-or-treating at the crazy crying lady's house anyway?
Perhaps I will get some last minute costumes for our animals and we can have our own private Halloween celebration. That way I won't look like a crazy lady if I cry, but I'm also not avoiding my grief.
Every year we go a little more over the top with costumes for our animals. I enjoy dressing them up. I even enjoy all the eye rolling that I get from family and friends about the fact that we are dressing up our animals. Everyone has told us "If you do all this for your animals, I can't wait until you have kids to see how you dress them up!" With a challenge like that I had to start planning early! I was excited with all the fun possibilities for twin costumes. We had only known for a couple weeks that we were having a boy and a girl, so I had only started to think about costumes, but I had planned that there would be many!
Now that all of those hopes are dashed, I am having a hard time with the impending holiday. I bought a couple of figurines of teddy bears dressed in costumes - one boy (frankenstein) and one girl (a witch) and brought them to the cemetery. They are perched on the gravestone. But I really don't want to participate in Halloween this year. We have been invited to a number of parties, but I don't feel like dressing up and partying. I also don't want to invite trick-or-treaters to my house and give out candy. I just want to hibernate until the holiday is over. Maybe this is me avoiding my grief and it is unhealthy, but who wants to go trick-or-treating at the crazy crying lady's house anyway?
Perhaps I will get some last minute costumes for our animals and we can have our own private Halloween celebration. That way I won't look like a crazy lady if I cry, but I'm also not avoiding my grief.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I am fine*.
It has been almost six months since Caiden and Kaylie were born. Every day is a struggle, but I am fine*. I think that I am coping relatively well. There is not an hour that goes by that I don't think about them. Sometimes I cry for all that we lost. Sometimes I laugh to myself about the good times (our reaction when we saw two heads on the monitor, our families' reactions when we told them the news). I re-live different events every day. Sometimes the good, sometimes the bad. I don't cry every day anymore, but I do still cry often. I have good times when I can accomplish a lot, and bad times when all I can do is put all my energy into a cause that will alleviate someone else's pain (i.e. knitting for An Angel's Love or planning next year's March of Dimes walk events).
I say "I am fine" with an asterisk because all of the above is true only in my little bubble. Anytime my bubble bursts, my "fine-ness" falls apart. My bubble isolates me from all of the happiness of babies. I have "unsubscribed" on Facebook from all of my friends who are pregnant or who had babies after Caiden and Kaylie were born (surprisingly it doesn't bother me too much to see the babies who were born before Caiden and Kaylie - I guess because those were better times). I have distanced myself from all of my friends who have recently had babies. I avoid stores as much as possible (apparently shopping is good free entertainment for young kids because they are everywhere at the malls and grocery stores).
Unfortunately, these measures are not entirely successful and not without cost. I can't figure out how to hide Facebook posts all together, so if another friend, who is not unsubscribed, comments on a photo of someone who is, the photo will still appear in my news feed. And Facebook is so "smart" that it thinks I would like to see ads about babies. I feel terrible about distancing myself from my friends. I want them to be happy for me when my time finally comes and I feel like I need to be happy for them now if I expect them to return the favor, but when I think about how happy they are (or even how sleep deprived and frazzled they are), it reminds me of how not-happy I am. I believe that they are understanding and will still be happy for me when my time comes even if I can't show them now how happy I am for them, but I still feel guilty.
In addition, my bubble has recently been weakening. My workplace is now full of men adding children to their families (thank God there are no women currently expecting). Soon I will have an empty newsfeed when I log into Facebook because I will have unsubscribed from everyone at the rate new announcements are coming. I can't avoid shopping forever; eventually I will have to get back into a regular shopping schedule. But I am fighting as hard as I can to keep my bubble in tact at least a little longer.
I am sure that this bubble will become unnecessary once I have held our next (healthy) baby in my arms, and hopefully long before that. But I am not there yet. For now, I am fine*.
I say "I am fine" with an asterisk because all of the above is true only in my little bubble. Anytime my bubble bursts, my "fine-ness" falls apart. My bubble isolates me from all of the happiness of babies. I have "unsubscribed" on Facebook from all of my friends who are pregnant or who had babies after Caiden and Kaylie were born (surprisingly it doesn't bother me too much to see the babies who were born before Caiden and Kaylie - I guess because those were better times). I have distanced myself from all of my friends who have recently had babies. I avoid stores as much as possible (apparently shopping is good free entertainment for young kids because they are everywhere at the malls and grocery stores).
Unfortunately, these measures are not entirely successful and not without cost. I can't figure out how to hide Facebook posts all together, so if another friend, who is not unsubscribed, comments on a photo of someone who is, the photo will still appear in my news feed. And Facebook is so "smart" that it thinks I would like to see ads about babies. I feel terrible about distancing myself from my friends. I want them to be happy for me when my time finally comes and I feel like I need to be happy for them now if I expect them to return the favor, but when I think about how happy they are (or even how sleep deprived and frazzled they are), it reminds me of how not-happy I am. I believe that they are understanding and will still be happy for me when my time comes even if I can't show them now how happy I am for them, but I still feel guilty.
In addition, my bubble has recently been weakening. My workplace is now full of men adding children to their families (thank God there are no women currently expecting). Soon I will have an empty newsfeed when I log into Facebook because I will have unsubscribed from everyone at the rate new announcements are coming. I can't avoid shopping forever; eventually I will have to get back into a regular shopping schedule. But I am fighting as hard as I can to keep my bubble in tact at least a little longer.
I am sure that this bubble will become unnecessary once I have held our next (healthy) baby in my arms, and hopefully long before that. But I am not there yet. For now, I am fine*.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Avoiding THE Question
THE Question: Do you have any kids yet?
Recently I was volunteering with some people I haven't seen in a while. I was catching up with one who I was pretty sure did not know our story. I danced around the subject of children as much as I could - focusing on where we were working now and joking about old times. I was so afraid that he would ask the dreaded question, but luckily we did not have a lot of time to talk so the question did not come up.
Also during this volunteering session, I saw an old roommate from a distance. She was there with her young son. I turned my face away as much as I could to avoid her recognizing me because I was afraid that she would introduce me to her son and ask if I had any children yet.
The problem is: how do you answer that question? There are three choices: no, yes, or yes, but they are in heaven. If you say no, you feel guilty for denying your children, but avoid any further uncomfortable conversation. If you say simply yes, you open yourself up to more questions (how many, how old, etc.). And if you say "yes, but they are in heaven", the mood of the conversation totally changes and both parties are likely uncomfortable: the other person doesn't know what to say, you just want to move on to the next topic.
I have read as well as heard from many people that it really does not get easier. This seemingly innocent question will always be hard to answer: how do you handle strangers asking the question? Do you tell people about your loss when you first meet them? If not, when do you tell them?
I have yet to be asked this question, but I dread the day that it happens. I'm not sure yet how I will respond. I guess it will depend on who asks it and the situation we are in at the time. Only time will tell...
Recently I was volunteering with some people I haven't seen in a while. I was catching up with one who I was pretty sure did not know our story. I danced around the subject of children as much as I could - focusing on where we were working now and joking about old times. I was so afraid that he would ask the dreaded question, but luckily we did not have a lot of time to talk so the question did not come up.
Also during this volunteering session, I saw an old roommate from a distance. She was there with her young son. I turned my face away as much as I could to avoid her recognizing me because I was afraid that she would introduce me to her son and ask if I had any children yet.
The problem is: how do you answer that question? There are three choices: no, yes, or yes, but they are in heaven. If you say no, you feel guilty for denying your children, but avoid any further uncomfortable conversation. If you say simply yes, you open yourself up to more questions (how many, how old, etc.). And if you say "yes, but they are in heaven", the mood of the conversation totally changes and both parties are likely uncomfortable: the other person doesn't know what to say, you just want to move on to the next topic.
I have read as well as heard from many people that it really does not get easier. This seemingly innocent question will always be hard to answer: how do you handle strangers asking the question? Do you tell people about your loss when you first meet them? If not, when do you tell them?
I have yet to be asked this question, but I dread the day that it happens. I'm not sure yet how I will respond. I guess it will depend on who asks it and the situation we are in at the time. Only time will tell...
The D&C
The week after the walk I started bleeding heavily. I called my doctor and she told me it was probably just my first period after the pregnancy. She said it was nothing to worry about as long as the bleeding didn't get worse. But then it did...
The next morning I called my doctor's office at 8. They didn't open until 8:30 that day, so I called the on call number. Before I even explained my problem, the woman who answered the phone asked if it was an emergency. I tried to explain that it wasn't life threatening, but I did need to talk to someone. She said if it was not an emergency I needed to wait until the doctor's office opened a half hour later and call them. I reluctantly agreed and waited a half hour.
I called the doctor's office exactly at 8:30 and left a message for the doctor to call back. At noon, I still hadn't heard anything, so I called back. They told me that the message was on the top of the stack on her desk and she would call me back as soon as she could. Finally at 3:30, I got a call back. The doctor suggested that I make an appointment for the next day. The only doctor available at the time was one I had never seen before.
The next day, the doctor was not able to determine anything at the appointment, so she asked if I would wait around for the ultrasound machine to become available so that they could see what was going on. I waiting in the waiting room and watched a couple of happy couples go in for ultrasounds to see their babies. Then finally they were ready for me. One of the worst parts of the whole experience was laying there looking at a baby-less uterus. They did however discover leftover tissue and suggested that I have a D&C the same day. The doctor on call at the hospital happened to be the same doctor who had delivered Caiden and Kaylie a month earlier.
When I talked to the doctor before the surgery, I told him that I was supposed to leave for New York City the next morning. The day before Caiden and Kaylie were born, we were supposed to be at a baseball game. Since I was lying in the hospital, we were unable to go. The team had generously offered us four free tickets to any game in May to make up for the game we missed, but the upcoming weekend was the last opportunity for us to use the vouchers. The doctor said we would see how the surgery went, but if everything went okay, I could go on the trip as long as I promised to carry my cell phone with me at all times and know how to contact the nearest hospital.
When preparing for the surgery, the nurse asked for my weight to determine the amount of anesthesia needed. The last time I had been weighed was at my 20 week appointment, so I had no idea what to tell her. I made a guess and she asked how sure I was. I said "not very". (It turns out I was very generous with the amount of weight I thought I had lost, though I didn't find that out until a month and a half later when my doctor's office weighed me again.) The anesthesiologist came over and the nurse asked if he wanted to run any blood tests. He said "no, she looks nice and pink to me". I'm sure that he was very good at his job, but it was frightening how flippant he was being.
When the OR was ready for me, they tried to reach my doctor. He had told them he was going into a meeting and they should call him on his cell phone when the OR was ready, but then he turned off his cell phone. They ended up paging him over the hospital intercom. Meanwhile, I was trying to reach my husband who was still at work because I wasn't supposed to go in for surgery for another couple hours (another reason the anesthesiologist's flippant attitude terrified me, since they told me I couldn't go in for surgery until after 5 because I had eaten breakfast, and now they were ready to take me in at 3). I started crying and told them I couldn't go anywhere until my husband arrived. Luckily he only works just down the road from the hospital, and he arrived before they found the doctor.
In the end, they removed the "residual products of conception" and I came out of the surgery just fine. We left for New York City the next morning and had a very nice and totally uncomplicated trip. I carried my cell phone and the phone number of the nearest hospital with me, but never needed to use either.
The next morning I called my doctor's office at 8. They didn't open until 8:30 that day, so I called the on call number. Before I even explained my problem, the woman who answered the phone asked if it was an emergency. I tried to explain that it wasn't life threatening, but I did need to talk to someone. She said if it was not an emergency I needed to wait until the doctor's office opened a half hour later and call them. I reluctantly agreed and waited a half hour.
I called the doctor's office exactly at 8:30 and left a message for the doctor to call back. At noon, I still hadn't heard anything, so I called back. They told me that the message was on the top of the stack on her desk and she would call me back as soon as she could. Finally at 3:30, I got a call back. The doctor suggested that I make an appointment for the next day. The only doctor available at the time was one I had never seen before.
The next day, the doctor was not able to determine anything at the appointment, so she asked if I would wait around for the ultrasound machine to become available so that they could see what was going on. I waiting in the waiting room and watched a couple of happy couples go in for ultrasounds to see their babies. Then finally they were ready for me. One of the worst parts of the whole experience was laying there looking at a baby-less uterus. They did however discover leftover tissue and suggested that I have a D&C the same day. The doctor on call at the hospital happened to be the same doctor who had delivered Caiden and Kaylie a month earlier.
When I talked to the doctor before the surgery, I told him that I was supposed to leave for New York City the next morning. The day before Caiden and Kaylie were born, we were supposed to be at a baseball game. Since I was lying in the hospital, we were unable to go. The team had generously offered us four free tickets to any game in May to make up for the game we missed, but the upcoming weekend was the last opportunity for us to use the vouchers. The doctor said we would see how the surgery went, but if everything went okay, I could go on the trip as long as I promised to carry my cell phone with me at all times and know how to contact the nearest hospital.
When preparing for the surgery, the nurse asked for my weight to determine the amount of anesthesia needed. The last time I had been weighed was at my 20 week appointment, so I had no idea what to tell her. I made a guess and she asked how sure I was. I said "not very". (It turns out I was very generous with the amount of weight I thought I had lost, though I didn't find that out until a month and a half later when my doctor's office weighed me again.) The anesthesiologist came over and the nurse asked if he wanted to run any blood tests. He said "no, she looks nice and pink to me". I'm sure that he was very good at his job, but it was frightening how flippant he was being.
When the OR was ready for me, they tried to reach my doctor. He had told them he was going into a meeting and they should call him on his cell phone when the OR was ready, but then he turned off his cell phone. They ended up paging him over the hospital intercom. Meanwhile, I was trying to reach my husband who was still at work because I wasn't supposed to go in for surgery for another couple hours (another reason the anesthesiologist's flippant attitude terrified me, since they told me I couldn't go in for surgery until after 5 because I had eaten breakfast, and now they were ready to take me in at 3). I started crying and told them I couldn't go anywhere until my husband arrived. Luckily he only works just down the road from the hospital, and he arrived before they found the doctor.
In the end, they removed the "residual products of conception" and I came out of the surgery just fine. We left for New York City the next morning and had a very nice and totally uncomplicated trip. I carried my cell phone and the phone number of the nearest hospital with me, but never needed to use either.
The Walk (and a new friend!)
I mentioned the walk and our success before. Here are the details of the walk and the beginning of my relationship with March of Dimes.
The day we got home from the hospital, I found out about the walk and started thinking about walking in it. After recruiting some family members to participate, I signed up about a week later. We formed our team and started fundraising.
About a week before the walk, the Family Teams coordinator at the local chapter of the March of Dimes called me. She was calling all team captains to find out why they were walking. I gave her a brief synopsis of our story. I also indicated that I was interested in volunteering with March of Dimes doing something behind the scenes. She suggested we meet after the walk to discuss.
For our team walkers, we ordered matching shirts online at the last minute. There were six shirts, four different sizes, all the same color. I paid extra for rush shipping to make sure that they arrived in time. What I received was five shirts, three different sizes and four different colors. I called to have the order corrected and they informed me that they could not have them here in time for the walk. In the end, I was able to buy shirts at a craft store and have a local jersey maker screen print the design (and I got a full refund for my online order, but was not required to return the shirts they sent). On the back of the shirts we printed the quote "they gave so much for being so little, but Angels always do".
On the day of the walk, everything was so overwhelming. I felt like we were newcomers to a group that had been getting together for years. (I don't know why I felt this way - it wasn't like we were on the outside of a big circle of friends, I think it was just my emotions.)
My husband had to be to work by noon and we were concerned about him making it on time, so we got to the front of the line and walked very quickly. At the start of the walk, a marching band lined the walkway and played music to kick off the walk. All of the emotions of the past few weeks, paired with all of the effort coming to a head, welled up inside me and spilled over in tears. I cried the first quarter mile or so.
After the walk, we gathered to eat the food that was donated. The Family Teams coordinator came over to meet us in person. She mentioned that there was another mother at the walk with a very similar story to mine. She had lost her son at 20 weeks and 2 days less than two weeks before we lost our twins. She suggested that I try to find the mother to connect with her. I did not find her before leaving, but I found a teammate of hers. We were later able to connect by e-mail. It turns out that we both used the same funeral home for our babies' funerals. We found a lot of similarities in our stories and comfort in each other.
The day we got home from the hospital, I found out about the walk and started thinking about walking in it. After recruiting some family members to participate, I signed up about a week later. We formed our team and started fundraising.
About a week before the walk, the Family Teams coordinator at the local chapter of the March of Dimes called me. She was calling all team captains to find out why they were walking. I gave her a brief synopsis of our story. I also indicated that I was interested in volunteering with March of Dimes doing something behind the scenes. She suggested we meet after the walk to discuss.
For our team walkers, we ordered matching shirts online at the last minute. There were six shirts, four different sizes, all the same color. I paid extra for rush shipping to make sure that they arrived in time. What I received was five shirts, three different sizes and four different colors. I called to have the order corrected and they informed me that they could not have them here in time for the walk. In the end, I was able to buy shirts at a craft store and have a local jersey maker screen print the design (and I got a full refund for my online order, but was not required to return the shirts they sent). On the back of the shirts we printed the quote "they gave so much for being so little, but Angels always do".
On the day of the walk, everything was so overwhelming. I felt like we were newcomers to a group that had been getting together for years. (I don't know why I felt this way - it wasn't like we were on the outside of a big circle of friends, I think it was just my emotions.)
My husband had to be to work by noon and we were concerned about him making it on time, so we got to the front of the line and walked very quickly. At the start of the walk, a marching band lined the walkway and played music to kick off the walk. All of the emotions of the past few weeks, paired with all of the effort coming to a head, welled up inside me and spilled over in tears. I cried the first quarter mile or so.
After the walk, we gathered to eat the food that was donated. The Family Teams coordinator came over to meet us in person. She mentioned that there was another mother at the walk with a very similar story to mine. She had lost her son at 20 weeks and 2 days less than two weeks before we lost our twins. She suggested that I try to find the mother to connect with her. I did not find her before leaving, but I found a teammate of hers. We were later able to connect by e-mail. It turns out that we both used the same funeral home for our babies' funerals. We found a lot of similarities in our stories and comfort in each other.
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