Embracing Grief and Strength: Honoring My Twin Sons Through Trauma-Informed Fitness

Trigger warning: Some of this blog mentions of child loss and pre-term labor. Some may find it difficult to read.

On September 24, 2016, I awoke to use the bathroom. I was in the labor and delivery unit because my water had broken the previous day. I was pregnant with twin boys, due in the following February.

When I went to use the bathroom, I looked down in shock and saw two tiny, helpless feet, each no larger than my thumb. My body had gone into labor while I was asleep. Anthony J. was delivered half an hour later, but sadly, he was stillborn.

Just 12 hours earlier, I believed it was a false alarm and that I would be heading home with the twins. At that moment, their father was in Virginia. It was then that my mother had to deliver the heartbreaking news that one of his sons had passed away and the other was not expected to survive. The pregnancy I experienced was Di-Mono, involving two separate amniotic sacs but only one placenta.

Approximately 12 hours later, Frank Thomas arrived. We spent just 3 hours and 49 minutes with him. His heart beat strongly, and his fingers held on with the same tender strength he had as a 20-week fetus. The following day was a haze, and we left the labor and delivery ward without our twins. We wouldn't see them again until they were returned to us in an urn.

I only see them in pictures and memories, both the good and the bad. What continues to puzzle me is why? Why did this happen to us?

Eight years later, I find myself in a used bookstore and come across a handbook titled "When a Baby Dies: A Handbook for Healing and Helping." How does one process such a topic? I've encountered many handbooks before, but dealing with the death of a baby? I decide to purchase it. This book empowers me to write this message, to let others who have concealed their grief like I did know that it's okay and that there is no time limit on mourning.

Grief ebbs and flows but never truly disappears. It is one of the most challenging experiences one can endure, serving as nature's method for mending a broken heart. There are four stages of grief: shock and numbness, searching and yearning, disorientation, and reorganization. Currently, I am in the final stage, reorganizing my life.

The most important lesson I've learned on my journey is that it's okay to not be okay. It's alright to cry and to express emotions. Anger, irritability, and all the core emotions are part of this. Emotions are our body's way of battling grief. Just like when we have the flu, we need to let the infection run its course. It's okay to suppress emotions, but not entirely. This is all interconnected with our emotions, and as you can see below, there are many.

There really is no right way to grieve. I've been doing it for 9 years now. Facing it for 8. I've found my way to bittersweet grief. Grief that comes in waves, or on special occasions or dates. The grief you can finally accept as "normal". Grief and trauma made me say what I said. It tore their father and I apart. The thoughts I had and the actions that overcame me is from grief and the loss of our children.

People experience grief in unique ways, and no two individuals grieve identically. We examine the different roles of males and females in the context of grief and the stigma associated with it. What does society truly expect from men and women? The way we grieve, miss someone, and cope with loss should not be influenced by whether we are male or female.

I tend to be a people pleaser, prioritizing others' well-being above my own feelings. I find comfort in protecting others, as I appreciate when others protect me. Although this may not be the healthiest approach, I consistently care about others' emotions and place them before my own. Grief should never be measured, compared, or judged.

Some people aren't able to do this, so they move on and reassure themselves and others by saying, "I'm okay."

With both babies gone, there was a poignant pain—a sharp, intense, emotional, and physical pain. You are handed the process of birth, but it is swiftly snatched away. When we lose a child or, in some cases, experience the loss of multiple births, numerous emotions collide.

Love and grief, life and death. We often place the blame on ourselves and sometimes on others, including those closest to us. In grief, our bodies enter survival mode. Even when we lose our children, we remain parents. We continue to feel pain and a protective instinct. Our grief makes excessively emotional.

Excessively affectionate.

Excessively protective.

Excessively harsh.

Excessively hurtful.

Rest assured, it's all normal.

Trauma serves as a means of adaptation. We possess the capacity to thrive and adapt. Act for yourself. Act for others. I aim to achieve this eventually, although it takes time. Someday, I wish to honor them with the respect they deserve, permitting their family to mourn. Allowing myself to grieve. Reassuring myself that it's okay.

Anthony J. I am sorry we had to say goodbye before we could say hello.

Frankie boy, we said hello but had to say goodbye.

I live for you. I pass it forward for you.

I'll love you my whole life.

Mommy.

9-24-2016