As many of you know from reading Cecily's blog, tomorrow, March 1, would have marked the first birthday for our twin boys, Nick and Zack. And as you also know, tomorrow also marks the exact point in this pregnancy where the last pregancy ended. 22 and a half weeks.
So, as mileposts go, it's huge.
Today we were both a little crazed. We listed for an extra-long time to the baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. Twice. Cecily worried all day that there wasn't enough movement (the baby's been flipping like a pancake in there lately). I suggested we check in with our doctors. Which we didn't. Because the reality is that there's really nothing to do, except wait it out. So far, all the canaries in the coal mine are still alive... BP, blood sugar, ketone tests, baby's heartbeat, all have been basically good.
Cecily tends to handle these things with more grace than I. Rather than seeking lessons from loss, I go looking for a fight. Pain is pain. For me, there is no kindly watchmaker in the big blue to pat us on the head and sing us a lullabye. I think perhaps the poet Robinson Jeffers was right. That if there is a deity at all, it is indifferent as a granite outcrop, merciful as the hawk to the mouse, enduring and beautiful as the sea's assault on the cliffs.
And our dear boys....they are not lost. But rather two cups of water scooped briefly from the sea and too soon returned to it.