Austin

When I found out that I was pregnant with twins, I was in a total state of shock. I didn’t believe the ultrasound technician. Even after seeing the print out that you receive, I was still in complete denial. It is hard to wrap your brain around the fact that you have more than one human being growing in you.
My mother- in- law had come with me on the day I found out. She had taken me to get my first ultrasound. When I walked back to the waiting room, she could see the dismayed look on my face. She immediately asked me what was wrong. I said, “There is two”. She was thrilled, and gave me a big hug. She thanked me for what she called a 'gift' of grandchildren. I was so dam excited, that I just had to share the news with Mark right away. On the way back to his parent’s house, Jane and I stopped off at Mark’s job. He was working for a title insurance company at that time. I wanted to tell him in person. I wanted to see his reaction.
When I went in, I asked for him. One of the girls working there went to tell him I was there to see him. I was bursting at the seams to tell him! When he came to the front of the office, I told him the news. “We are having two babies!” All the ladies in the office congratulated us. I don’t think he was able to wrap his brain around it either. He still looked like he was in a state of shock when I left.
I couldn’t wait to get back to the house to call my mother. I rushed to the phone, dialed her number at work, and waited anxiously for her to answer. When she answered the phone, I said, “Mom, are you sitting down?’ She was confused, said that she was, and asked why. I said, “There are two”. She said, “Two what?”. I said, “We are having twins. There are two babies.” Silence. She was stunned. She yelled to her co-workers that I was having twins. There were cheers in the background. The tone was set. Joy. Sheer joy.
To me, it was such a gift. Mark is an only child, and I thought was how blessed we were to be give an instant family. His parents would have two grand babies at once. I knew the chance of me having more children after this was not likely, so to give him the gift of two children thrilled me beyond measure.
The pregnancy went smoothly, nothing out of the ordinary, and the babies were, according to all the tests, completely healthy. I was huge! Seriously, huge. By the end of the pregnancy, each baby weighed over six pounds, which is big for twins, considering a single baby often weighs only six pounds. Roxy was baby 'A', and Austin, baby 'B'. That was the birth order. Roxy would be born first, then Austin would be born second.
When Austin died, the blow to my heart was so hard, I didn’t think I would ever breath again. That wasn't supposed to happen. He was fine. All along, he was fine. What happened?
I was in such a state of shock. To say I was numb doesn’t completely describe the feeling. The pain of a loss of a child engulfs you, smothers you, suffocates you.
When we were leaving the hospital, I remember being wheeled down to the front corridor, waiting for Mark to get the car. I was holding Roxanne, and then, like a tsunami, such intense grief overtook me. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave my baby behind. I knew he was on  cold table, in a drawer somewhere in that hospital, and I just wanted to go get him, and take him home with me. My child should not be in such a place. He should be with me, wrapped up, safely in my arms. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I needed more time. As we drove away from that hospital, a part of my heart was left behind.
My mom wasn’t sure, and debated whether or not to take his crib out  from their bedroom before I came home. I was glad that they left it. I went in to the room, shut the door, and sat in between both cribs. I wept. I did this for days. When I felt ready, I had it removed.
For days, I walked around as if I was in a fog. The grief was like a ragging horror. It abused me. I would spontaneously break out into wails of grief. I didn’t understand. I wanted to know, Why? Why did God take my baby. Why did he take my only son. I thought for so long it was punishment. Punishment for an abortion I had many years ago. One in which I felt tremendous remorse and guilt. I thought it was time to pay up. I know God doesn’t work that way, but I couldn’t help but feel that was part of the reason. I have come to know that isn’t it at all.
There is a scene in the movie Steel Magnolias, where Sally Field’s character, M’Lynn’s daughter, Shelby died, and she is at the funeral, standing alone at the coffin. The funeral is over, and the attendees have all dispersed. Her closest girlfriends notice she isn’t with them,  turn to see she is still standing alone, and return to do what they can to help her. They are trying to console her, but she is so inconsolable. Then, she begins to get mad. She is trying to make sense of why her daughter passed away. Why she went so soon. She begins to go into a rant, and one of the things she says, is “No! No! It’s not supposed to happen this way! I’m supposed to go first. I’ve always been ready to go first. I-I don’t think I can take this! I-I don’t think I can take this! I-I just wanna hit somebody ‘til they feel as bad as I do! I just wanna hit something! I wanna hit it hard!” I wanted to hit something, too. I wanted everyone to feel the pain I was feeling.
They say there are five stages of grief, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I know them all too well. Been there enough times, and you would think going through it so many times would make it easier. Well, it doesn’t. And it sucks. It really sucks. Whether it is a loss of a child, loved one, the end of a marriage, or a break up, it still hurts. And you can’t fast track each stage. As much as you want you. If you deny the process, it always resurfaces. You will eventually have to deal with it. Pay the Piper time….
These past several years have been a continual process going through grief for me. I read a quote in the book, “The Language of Letting Go”, “My feelings have been stored for so song they have freezer burn”. It really resonated with me. I have tried to avoid the pain of going through grief, and am dealing with unresolved issues.
I also feel tremendous guilt for my other children, Kristen and Kelley. I was so consumed with my own grief, that I don’t feel I gave them the time they needed from me. No one can prepare you for this. I didn’t know how to handle it. I could barely endure what I was feeling, and pushed everyone away. I wish now that I would have crawled into bed with them, wrapped them up in my arms, and cried together. Let them have the time they needed to cry with me. To let them know that I am here. We will get through this. It is ok to cry. You can still count on me. I wanted them to know I would be ok.
They were told to be strong for mommy. How could they possibly know how to do such a thing? They were just as confused. They just lost their brother, too. They needed to grieve. They were only little girls. I wish now I sent them to counseling. They needed a place to express what they were feeling. They needed a voice. And I didn’t give it to them.
Some people may think I have gone off my rocker when I say this, but for about three months after his death, I felt him with me. I would be sitting with Roxy on the couch, when I would feel the presence of a child running around me. It didn’t scare me. It was as if he was playing hide and seek. It was a playful feeling. At first it wouldn’t bother me. But, as time went on,  he became more intense in trying to get my attention. One day, I finally said to him, “It’s time to go. It is ok to go now. I love you. Now go.” From that forward, I didn’t feel him around me. Sometimes, now I wish I do.....

Austin
Floating, floating…
Still and quiet.
So close, too late.
Gone for now, but not for always.
Did you suffer little one?
In the darkness you weren’t alone.
There were no signs, I did not know.
I can’t seem to let you go.
Confused, bewildered…
Still in shock.
Angry at God.
I prayed for you, I praised god to have you.
My only son, and now you’re gone.
My mind won’t accept, I can’t put my heart to rest.
Goodbye for now, my sweet little one, until the day we meet again.
by, Kimberly Saxe