Four years ago this month…

I was blissfully pregnant.  I was in my 2nd trimester, enjoying being pg with twins.

Around this time was when I first started feeling the girls, but didn’t realize it was them.  I remember it feeling like ‘the gurglies’ or little bubbles inside of me.

I know that people can’t believe that I still think about my girls.

I know that some people think that I should have ‘moved on’ by now or that I should ‘be over it’

I’d like to share something that a friend of mine wrote:

That timetable [of grief] seems to be more for how long it’s acceptable to talk about it aloud. And I don’t talk about it aloud much anymore. But oh God I hope he knows that I never stop loving him, thinking of him, wishing he were here. EVER. We speak his name a lot. Mike and I, here at home. Here it is okay to just be in the middle of just, well, life or anything like it, and stop and say “God I miss Logan” or “I wonder what they’d be doing right now” when we’re watching Ella playing. It’s okay here, and that’s why I like it here. I thought about it today. I like my home, I like my innermost circle here. Me, Mike and Ella. Because he’s here. It doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable here. It doesn’t stop a conversation dead in its tracks. It doesn’t derail the whole day or even the whole hour. It all can keep going. It just IS. It’s truth. If I miss him, I can say it and it doesn’t send anyone into a fit of worrying about me and how I’m ‘handling’ things.

I wanted to share this because this is how I feel sometimes.

I feel like sometimes, the only times I can talk about my girls is with Nick or certain people.

Death is real, people.  It happens.  And yes, it happens to children, and babies.

They may not have lived for long on this earth but they were real.  We love them.  We grieve them.  We remember them.  And now, I HONOR them with my photography business, named for them.

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