I Miss My Girls

Most days are pretty normal, but sometimes something clicks that makes me want to physically cradle my girls in my arms and comfort them, even though I suppose it's really to comfort me since they aren't here.  These moments frequently bring some heartache and tears, and sometimes I will even physically do the motion of cradling them, like I cradled Simon in my arms when he was tiny.  I realized today in one of those moments that I really just miss them, deeply.  They were only here for a little while--I only felt their kicks through their mom's belly and only really saw them alive through ultrasounds, but every time we looked in on them and and watched them interact with each other and with the ultrasound probe, we got to know them a bit more.  The emotion I am really feeling now is that I want to see them and be with them more.  I miss them.  I think that's why the ultrasounds after they'd died felt so empty and barren and why they hurt my heart so much when looking at those images.  It was like looking in on Simon's bedroom when he is at his grandparents.  Yes, the house is quieter, but it's also emptier--missing a vital life and energy that was once here.  It is less.  That's how the ultrasound images containing the girls' bodies were.  They were clearly no longer there.  They are also clearly no longer here, and I miss them.