I miss them

I took out the boys things last night. I haven't touched them or held them in a long time. I looked at their pictures...and I remembered that the pictures don't look anything like them. I looked at their noses, and their toes, and little ears. I miss their little noses. I had forgotten what they looked like. What kind of mother forgets what her children look like?

I had forgotten that it was impossible to tell if it was the weight of the blanket or the weight of them when I was holding them. They were so tiny. My tiny boys...how I miss them. I got that familiar ache in my arms again. That heaviness in my heart. I have it now as I type this. My chest aches for them to be near me. I had a dream the other night that I was breastfeeding them. Like if I just kept feeding them, they would be alive because it was me that was keeping them alive. And in my dreams, when I have them of babies...more often than not the babies look just like them except pink and alive.

I touched Riley's foot molds. I traced the arch in his foot, inspected his tiny toes...I miss those toes. God what I would do to see those toes one more time.

Here I am blessed with one more chance, and all I keep thinking about are the chances that I've missed. I was thinking this morning about what it would be like to bring home a living baby. One that cries because s/he needs me as much as I need them. And I can't see anything but tears. Maybe because that's what I'm used to. Endless, body consuming grief.

I gotta go now, my old familiar friend Grief is knocking at my door.