This may seem Strange,

Unless you've lost a child.
There are days I'm in denial. I choose to be there and it feels nice. Nice to acknowledge my boys without the pity of others. Let me explain.
I joined an exercise Boot Camp. Our trainer came up to me after the first day--My butt was clearly kicked and at one point I think he was worried about me. I told him that I tend to push myself pretty hard and forget that having 3 kids in 15 months is going to change my fitness abilities. Of course he asked about the twins, and because it was just us two, I decided to be openly proud of my boys' lives and not include that they had passed on. It seems that when others find out, they (understandably) seem to feel a bit uncomfortable and give off pity. The fact that I am a mother of twins gets overshadowed by the detail that they are not living. You may be wondering how I could exclude that "detail". Easy. They don't ask. Typically, "are they living?" is not a question one would say aloud. And sometimes the moment isn't right to share that they passed away, and before you know it, the window of opportunity is gone and they have this perception of your life and somehow letting them in on reality seems cruel. Bottom line, that day I didn't feel strong enough to go there with a stranger. And, I didn't think it would come up.
Well, it's come up.
The thing is, I don't really mind. I'm not lying about my day to day--claiming to have the challenges that twins would bring--but when asked their names, I tell them. When asked when they were born, I tell them. I just needed that place to be one where pity didn't define my life for others.
I understand that the thought of your child dying in your arms is beyond comprehension unless you've lived it. But I don't want that to separate me from other people, like it's contagious-- I've got leprosy and they don't wanna get it. Of course these are all just emotions and I don't mean to project them onto anyone, but this is how it feels sometimes-this delicate balance to strike of wanting to forget the pain, yet remember their lives. It's extremely hard to do both.
I know this must seem schizophrenic. One day I'm shouting "I lost my babies!" from the roof tops and the next, hiding that very same fact. Such is the roller coaster that is now our lives. Anyway, I've been begging 2009 to be a little kinder than it's predecessor. '08 was kind of a bully. I was needing to write this for awhile and knew you would listen.
Thank you.