The trick

The trick to making it through, I've found so far, is to not really think about it. Don't get me wrong, it's always there, just beneathe the surface, and it comes to mind many, many times a day. But to keep my composure and sanity, I can't REALLY THINK ABOUT IT. If I let myself remember the details or get caught up in fully appreciating the loss, then things get really, really hard. Today, I'm having a hard time not thinking about it.

Like a punch in the gut

I doodle while I talk on the phone. Mostly, I write down random words that I or the other person says during the conversation. The words are disjointed and don't mean anything if I read them later. I'm not sure if it's a nervous habit or what, but I've done it for years.

Tonight, I found a piece of paper with a diaper tally on it. Before the twins were born, I was stockpiling diapers and Kyle and I were trying to keep track of how many of each size we had and still needed. We don't need the diaper tally anymore, having used most of the diapers we had counted. I turned the paper over to find some random words written in my handwriting, things like Cl and saline and overnight and seizures. I froze at the last word. All the sudden, these weren't random words anymore. They were what I had written when I spoke with one of the NICU nurse practitioners the day after Marin got sick.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut---I couldn't breathe and my knees felt weak.

I had forgotten about the seizures.