Remebering Faith and Hope

Two years ago today my life was changed forever. Two years ago today my greatest joy became my greatest sorrow. Two years ago today I lost my twin daughters.

And all that I am left with are memories, mementos, musings.

Memories . . .

Seeing a plus sign on my home pregnancy test the day before my 27th birthday. Being surprised during our first ultrasound with the news that we were having twins. Embarrassing Mike by asking the doctor if they were Siamese twins. Taking our babies' first picture around to family and friends to share the exciting news. Hearing the sweet sound of two little heartbeats. Throwing Daddy a surprise party for his 30th birthday. Going shopping with my mom for maternity clothes. Attending several of my sister's wedding showers and signing the cards for the gifts "Love, Lori and the Babies". Craving Chick-fil-A lemonade and buying it by the gallon. Going to the Texas Ranger's home opener and eating two hot dogs, one for each baby. Anticipating the "big" ultrasound where we found out we were having identical twin girls. Picking out cribs and bedding for the nursery. Wondering if I really needed two of everything. Trying to decide on the perfect names. Having my water break at 21 weeks. Rushing to the hospital, only to hear the doctor say that there was nothing they could do. Leaving the hospital with empty arms.

Mementos . . .

A blue bunny and bib from my mom when we announced I was pregnant. Borrowed books on pregnancy that I never finished reading. A black belly band that I wore during the first trimester when, already, my pants wouldn't zip. The first ultrasound picture of our two little peanuts. Two gowns from Mike's mom with fuzzy little lambs on the front. A "Guess How Much I Love You" board book. My first maternity outfit, a red t-shirt and khaki pants, that I bought right after we heard the babies' heartbeats. A photo of me at Mike's birthday party sticking out my pregnant belly. "The Perfect Pair" onesies from Auntie Tracy. Two white bears in an Easter basket. A brown dress with pink and white polka dots that I wore to my sister's bridal shower. Yellow rubber duckies for bath time. An ultrasound photo that says "I'm a girl". Another that says, "I'm a girl too". Two precious pink outfits that my parents brought back for the girls from their trip to New York. Birth certificates and death certificates. Sympathy cards with encouraging words from family and friends. A Precious Moments figurine of a mom and a dad, each holding a little baby.

Musings . . .

How were we going to handle two babies? Would I be able to hold them at the same time? Feed them at the same time? Carry them to the car at the same time? Would I even be able to take them out of the house without help? Would we need two of everything? Would two of everything even fit in our little house? Would they have Mike's red hair? Or my blue eyes? Would they look just alike? Would we be able to tell them apart? What if we mixed them up? What matching outfits would I dress them in for the holidays? How would we celebrate their birthdays? What costumes would they wear for Halloween? Would they like the same things? Or would they have their own little personalities? Would they inherit Mike's athletic ability? Or my creativity? Mike's sense of humor? Or my determination? Would they want to do everything together? Or would they have separate interests? Would they want to participate in sports or dance? Music or art? Would they have the same friends? Would they get along? Would we survive their teenage years? Would they try to switch places on us? Would they go to the same college? What would they want to be when they grew up? Who would they marry? What would it be like planning their weddings? Would they one day make us grandparents?

As time passed and the pain lessened, I began to realize that these things are not all I had left of my daughters. The Lord had blessed me with so much more.

Faith I did not even know that I had. Faith that was tested and stood firm. Faith in God who promises to never leave me nor forsake me. Faith that in my darkest hour let me proclaim the goodness of the Lord.

Hope when I did not understand His plan. Hope that persevered through suffering. Hope in Jesus Christ who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Hope for better things yet to come.

When we left the hospital, the babies did not have names. For several months they remained Baby A and Baby B. It was during this time that the Lord began to heal my broken heart and I was able to see past my grief, my sorrow, and my loss. As I began to understand what faith and hope truly meant, it dawned on me that we finally had the names of our daughters.

Precious girls, you will forever be our Faith and Hope. We miss you so much, but it brings us so much comfort to know that heaven is your home and you are safe in the arms of Jesus. Daddy and I love you and look forward to the day we will be with you again.