The One Question I Hate

I'm not going to lie. It's been off and on rough for me the last few weeks.  Ever since Isaac's birthday was coming around the corner I realized that on the 28th, Micah would be 5 months old.  Five whole months. More importantly it's been 5 whole months since I found out the awful, no good, very bad news: that his twin brother, our son, Jeremiah was gone.  Sometimes I feel like that day was a very bad dream. I hate that Micah's birthday is blended with grief. I wish I could say it was one of the best days of my life. It wasn't. It was one of the worst and scariest.  Maybe if I were to look at it positively I could say it was the strongest day of my life. The day I had to face such heartbreak and fear for the life of my surviving twin, born so very early. The day I had to be strong for my son, for my husband, for my family. I had to rally people together. To be happy for Micah. To have enough resolve to be able to go into that delivery room and birth my two sons, knowing full well that one was gone and the other was still so early...well I knew there was danger for him and for me. 

I guess all those memories are flooding back.  They are compounded by the unavoidable reminders of what could of been. That viral video going around with the twin boys talking to each other or doing karate (I haven't watched it, I'm just going by comments) is one example.  Another are the friends who have twins that are experiencing everything there is to go with having twins.  It just breaks my heart. For Micah. For me. For what should have been.

I really wish this was easy to move on from. I'm not walking around in self pitty all the time. But I still hurt. I can't help but look at Micah and see double. For that I will always be grateful, that they were identical, because then at the very least I can try to imagine just what Jeremiah would have looked like during his life here on earth. 

And that leads me to my least favorite question, the one I've begun to hate.  "How old is he?" I hear that everywhere we go. I always sigh, and say something along the lines of it being a complicated answer. He's 5 months but he should *almost* be 3 months. Most people don't understand even after I have told them that just because he was born then and is now 5 months does not mean that he should automatically be the size of an average 5 month old nor should he be developmentally like one. It means he should have been developing into a newborn for the first 10 weeks of his life, and the it all grows from there.  And of course the worst part of the question is that it reminds me all over again about my story...his story---their story.

I wish I could kiss my Jeremiah's chubby little baby cheeks right now.  I'm glad he's in a better place though.

Micah & Jeremiah holding hands