Lately I have been having a hard time with the idea of the world forgetting about my boys. I don't fault anybody for doing so - people have their own lives and their own children and the world moves on. But for me, their loss is so real. I am healing and moving on, but they are still part of me. The memories are so real. I still remember feeling their kicks inside of me. I remember holding their tiny bodies and singing to them while they passed away. I remember praying and wishing that they could stay. I look at their picture every day and miss them. I try not to dwell on the what might have beens, but in the back of my mind I know that had they been born on their due date they would be just over six months right now. I would have two crawling boys making messes in my house and keeping me up at night. Instead, I sit home alone every day while my other son is in school, and I feel the emptiness of a life that is missing those two boys. It still hurts. Not in the same way as it did at first, but sometimes it hurts deeper now since I have so much time to sit in the quiet of their absence. As we are struggling with fertility treatments and hoping to get pregnant again, it makes it even more real that they are not here. Sometimes I feel like I am carrying the weight of their memory on my shoulders. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, "They lived! They were here!" They may not have been here for long, but they are still my sons. I love them and I miss them, and they weren't just a sad thing that happened to me. I can never forget about them. I have three children, and I love them all. I know that as time goes on, the rest of the world will forget that I have twin boys up in Heaven waiting for me, and I am going to have to find peace with that. But Chase and Cooper will never be forgotten in our home, and they are forever part of our family.
