I just pulled from scratch strawberry cupcakes out of the oven. We bought pink heart and green star balloons. Tomorrow we will bring out the box of hospital mementos, their bears, and the book of all their photos.
Tomorrow marks the third year since we lost our twins. Tomorrow is their third birthday. These small traditions unfolded organically but purposefully. Ways to celebrate in the midst of sorrow.
This year we also began a new tradition. We picked a charity that felt symbolic to the twins’ missed year. Three years old … they’d be wanting their own space, to decorate with their own style, big kid beds.
I looked at so many bedding sets. Let tears flood my eyes. Closed the computer. Came back. Tried again. Maisie’s bedding jumped out at me. It felt perfect. Girly but sassy. Strong somehow. I haven’t had a chance to know her, to know what her favorite animal is, or favorite color, but this foxy orange and pink felt right. Daniel agreed with a huge smile. “That’s for her.”
Finnian was a little harder. I immediately was drawn to the sharks. The deep green and blue. But I worried if it was because Lochlan would love it (he did, he wanted it right away). Daniel believed they would like the same things. I wanted it to be just for him though, so it sat in my cart for a week before I bought it. Then I went back to look again and noticed it was named “FINN” … not like a shark fin but like the nickname of our boy.
They arrived perfect. I opened the box and felt a flood of emotions. We also picked up two twin mattresses similar to the one we use for Lochlan’s floor bed. And Daniel’s company generously matched our donation in dollars.
On Friday, we took the bedding and mattresses to Sleepy Head Beds. This amazing organization ensures that regardless of income all children have a place to sleep. A bed of their own.
“These will be in a home by next week,” they told us.
We gathered ourselves in the car, Dan slipped my hands in his, and we sighed. In a home by next week, tucking in little bodies, in memory of Finnian and Maisie.
We wish desperately we could tuck them in tonight, or just have another moment, or even just a glimpse of their faces as they grew. We can’t have these things and the rawness of that pain has not eased in 3 years. But we will always pause in our grief to celebrate the first son and daughter that made me us parents. I’ve got some cupcakes to go frost now …
Happy Birthday Finnian …
Happy Birthday Maisie…
We love you more than we could ever show.
Hi, I'm Tiffany. I believe in the power of stories to connect us to each other. I write about life after loss and all the love, longing, and learning that comes from it. Grief is big, love is bigger. My newest stories are about motherhood (after both infertility and loss). In my experience, love doesn't get bigger than motherhood.
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