Category: Parenting

The 3rd anniversary of our twins’ passing happened a few months ago and in a moment of grief/madness/genius, I got their pictures out from the abyss of my computer and started photoshopping away the grislier aspects of the pictures. I added floral crowns, vignettes, and some clever filters in an attempt to breath life into them so to speak. While deep in my work, Liam came across the pictures on my screen and began to question me about the babies.

The husband and I believe that children are more capable of processing theories and digesting information than given credit for, so whenever “tough” topics arise in our conversations, such as this, we do try to explain to him as clearly as possible without any dumbing down or sugarcoating.

While he already knew that he has siblings that have passed away, this was the first time he had actually seen their faces. To be honest, I had no intention of showing him any picture well until he’s at least a teenager but since it had happened, I didn’t think it was wise to skirt around it.

So I told him, yes, these are Levi and Lola and to my relief, he said that they’re cute. He also said that he’s sad that they are dead. He asked me how they died.

I explained to him how babies have to grow for 9 months in their mommies’ bellies before they could be born but Levi and Lola came out of mine before they were ready. I also mentioned how lucky he was that he managed to grow just enough to stay alive eventhough he also came out of my belly early. He asked me if they had turned into stars and I said, yes they have turned into stars and planets and trees and rivers and mountains – because I do believe that after death we are all literally fed back to the universe.

Now Liam is only five years old and I have no idea whether he absorbed any of what I said. But for a child, he seemed respectful with his questions and also remarkably empathetic. Later that night, while reading to him at bedtime, he suddenly said that he missed Levi and Lola. I laughed and told him that he couldn’t have missed them as he has never met them. He answered, “But mummy, I miss playing with them!”. Well, me too, buddy.

Recently, a mother cat and her two newborn kittens sought refuge in our backyard. I’ve never been a cat person, but for some reason I felt something for the cats. Seeing the two little ones suckling on their mother, I guess I identified with the nursing mother, so much so I didn’t have the heart to shoo them away. I gave the mother water and plain scrambled eggs so that she didn’t have to find nourishment away from her babies. I wasn’t going to adopt them but I guess I could be somewhat kind?

I checked on them daily but one day, from my window I spotted one of the kittens crawling very slowly towards the drainage hole, away from its mummy and sibling. It was very weak; I knew that it was dying. A few hours later, I found the mother licking and grooming it so I held some hope that maybe the kitten was going to make it. However, by nightfall, it was dead.

I didn’t expect to feel as sad as I did. With teary eyes, I insisted on giving it a proper burial and I wanted the kids to be involved. Gareth told me that he thought I was so affected because it was a symbolic act for me since we didn’t get to bury our twins. As soon as he said that, I bawled even more.

We had signed them away to be dealt with by the hospital and to be honest, I have regretted that decision ever since. We were in such terrible shock that our first instinct was to avoid doing anything pertaining to them. There wasn’t anyone who took the initiative to sit down with us and talk things through with us. Everybody walked on eggshells around us and expected us to make the best decisions after we just lost our kids. I wish someone, anyone would just say, look…you have to give them a proper send-off, they’re not hospital bio-waste. Alas…

I digress.

I found a box and lined it with kitchen towel. At first I was worried that the mother cat was going to attack us, but she actually watched quietly while Gareth picked up her dead baby.

We told her that we’re sorry for her loss and that we would bury her kitten in a nice, peaceful place. Liam drew a picture that he wanted to bury together with the kitten, though he forgot to bring it with him so it’s now on our fridge. I did promise him that I’ll bring him to the grave again so he could leave it there.

We found a nice shady spot near our house, just off the walking path to the park in our residential area. With Liam and Lily watching, I dug a hole as deep as I could with a tiny trowel.

Then we tipped the kitten over into the hole and buried her. The kids chose some heavy rocks, we placed them over to mark the spot and called it a day.

I guess Gareth was right, I did feel a wave of relief washed over me as soon as the act was done. I may not have buried my own but this will do.

My dearest Apollo and Artemis, 

One year has passed since you both left me. It’s interesting how I perceive the memory of what happened to us. Remembering, at times feel really foreign, as though it’s just one of the dozens of sad stories of strangers I read on the Internet everyday. There’s a fleeting sadness but I feel hardly any attachment. 

But sometimes, sometimes I feel like everything happened only yesterday. It feels so fresh and raw. My chest would tighten and tears would start flowing freely. This often happen in the middle of the night while I am in bed, when it’s dark, quiet and all I could hear are my own thoughts and your dad’s breathing. 

Well-meaning people tell me that I am still young and that I can give birth again. True, but telling me that does not comfort me. Not in the least. What it sounds to me when they say that is, you both didn’t matter. 

But you both mattered, so much and you still matter to me. Despite your untimely departure, you have made me a better person. I take care of myself better now, and because of that I am a better mummy to your brother, a better wife to your dad (at least I think so). I may still be reduced to a blubbering mess sometimes but it comes with the territory. 

My loves, before this, I used to believe that when people die, they just become extinguished. Finished. That there’s no heaven or hell, no afterlife. The only things left were just memories when somebody dies. However, guess what, I couldn’t reconcile my belief with your deaths, especially when we never even got to make any memory together. What was I to do? 

In desperation, your mummy went to see, wait for it…..a tarot card reader! Hoping to make contact with you guys and all that. Well, of course it was a colossal waste of money but it gave me a taste of comfort I had not tasted for a while since you both left. That encounter made me realise that I needed something in my life, nope, not cake……spirituality! Long story short, say hello to your new crystal-admiring-sage-burning-mummy-formerly-known-as-the-nihilist. I also have an app called Angel Energy Cards on my phone that I may be using a bit too much.

My dearest babies, what a year you had given me. Because of you, I’ve experienced turmoil like nothing I could ever have imagined. Also because of you, I have experienced true joy. The kind of joy that expands my heart and fills me with a sense of contentment, just from something as simple as seeing your brother conquering his fear of coming down a slide. Or seeing your dad walk through the door, sweaty and panting after a night run. 

Thank you for teaching me how to tell the difference between stupid, frivolous things and the important ones. You both have given me the greatest present of all, the gift of clarity.

Thank you my babies. I love you forever and always.