Yesterday, we went back to the hospital for our post-loss visit. It was yet another sign that life goes on. The doctor told me I could now go back to normal activities. The word “normal” has lost all meaning. There’s nothing normal about losing twin babies. But I no longer have to rest throughout the day, I can start working out, I can go swimming, and sex is one of the “normal” activities she mentioned. Actually she said “intercourse” which sounds much more clinical. It wasn’t a surprise since most of our conversation revolved around what to expect the next time I get pregnant. I had already started reading about the subject so there wasn’t anything new but it was difficult to say things out loud. Needless to say, we all will be much more cautious and worried the next time around.
And now it’s hard to think about anything else. I honestly don’t know if getting pregnant again sooner rather than later will help the grieving process or make it worse. This book has been somewhat helpful in answering some questions and reassuring me my fears and doubts are “normal”. Again, that word. Does normal mean that I’m experiencing what others have experienced so that makes it ok, accepted, expected? I’ve never wanted to be like everyone else. I prefer “different” to “normal”. So what then?
A part of me is angry. That’s normal for me. I carry a bag that says “I Hate People”. I have road rage. Perky people annoy me. Sometimes I have the urge to break something just so I can hear the sound of glass shatter. I smile easily but I wear a lot of black which is a more accurate reflection of what I feel than a closet full of pastels and brights. I’m angry that I even have to have this book in my library. I put away the “happy, healthy” pregnancy books because the next pregnancy will forever be known as the one “after”.