One year ago, I went to the doctor for my first check up. It was that moment when the technician put the monitor on my stomach that i saw it for the first time. Two tiny heart beats. I remember it like it was yesterday. I began laughing hysterically, as I realized what that meant. I was carrying twins. There were two babies in my stomach, not just one. Two good, strong heartbeats. There are no twins on either side of our families. While I never dreamed it would happen to me, my husband had been teasing me since we found out we were pregnant that it was twins. But now I had it before my eyes. I could not deny it any longer. God had blessed me with two more children. This is the beginning of it all. While the memories of that day are ones of joy and happiness, and a little panic. OK a lot of panic, they are good memories. But, they are also the beginning of really bad memories. They are the beginning of the story. Those good memories will soon get drowned out by the horrific memories that will soon come. This day marks the beginning. It marks the beginning of joy, and pain, and hurt, and brokenness. I am dreading this coming year, as I pass all those major days that defined my pregnancy. Soon will come the day my water broke, and the day we were told to abort both of our children. The days of hope that came after as our children hung on to life and didn't give up. Those days of joy realizing I resealed and Jacob had a normal level of fluid again. The day my water broke for the second time. The day I went into the hospital and the days that followed. The day they were born, and the day Jacob died. They are all coming, and coming faster than I want them to come. But time moves on, and I've been told wounds heal. I just pray for healing to come quickly. This pain is just too much, and it is only the beginning.
