What will people think if they know the depth of my grief. Will they think I’m crazy? Will they think I’m grieving too much…or not enough? If they knew I bought yellow tulips for Judah and pink/red/orange tulips for Emerson will they say I am going overboard? How about if they knew I bought a 10 dollar pack of earrings specifically for one pair of angel wings earrings to wear on Sunday. Is naming my babies something that is too far out there? Technically I didn’t know the gender of my babies. It was just a feeling I had. One boy and one girl. They only grew between 6 and 7 weeks. They grew to the size of a small pea. One quarter of an inch. The heart has divided into four chambers and is beating around 150 beats per minute. They had arm and leg nubs. I never got to see them on ultrasound. I never got to hear a heartbeat. I got two pink lines and some nausea.

But, grief isn’t logical. Grief isn’t something you should define as crazy. Grief is just grief and everybody grieves in different ways. I never in a million years thought I would grieve this way. I never dwelt on things such as this but I knew they happened in 1/4 of all pregnancies. I knew they were fairly common and very sad for the women they happened to. But I also know the reason they happen is because of a defect. That doesn’t really help now though, does it? Nothing helps…because the moment I saw two pink lines and the word pregnant I fell in love with the life growing inside me. And grief comes out of love. I loved my babies fiercely. I prayed for them every day. My husband prayed for them every day. We had hopes and dreams and plans for them. Even before we knew there were two. Even before we knew the gender. We loved them and we love them still.

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