Filling What Is Empty

It's June 23.

It's not really registering that I just gave birth, but my body feels and appears otherwise.

I still look pregnant, I think as I get dressed in the same clothes I wore to the doctors office just two days before.

I'm leaving the hospital...empty.

Empty inside and empty outside.

The babies, I'm sure, are being taken to the morgue.

What a horrible place for babies to go.

Seth helps me gather all the mementos and we exit the room.

A pregnant woman walks by, "Not time yet?", she says with a smile.

I'm taken aback, but respond, "Oh, no. We already had ours, but they died."

Her face went from happiness to surprise in an instant.

"Oh," she says and tries to hurry away.

I realize I'm jealous of her belly bulge.

I'm also jealous of the quick heartbeat I hear in the next room.

And the cries I hear down the hall.

I try to shake it off, and I take something out of Seth's arms so I don't leave the hospital carrying nothing.

...

We are home.

I walk upstairs while Seth leaves to grab more items from the car.

My eyes focus on the two car seats in our bedroom.

They have the car seat covers I made for them over them.

Just days before, I would picture my sweethearts inside as I would lift the cover...

I break down.

Through my tears, I grab everything baby-related I can see and throw it in the third room.

There's so much stuff, and I can't get it out fast enough.

I'm even angry because there's so much.

We were completely ready for them.

I give up and sink to the floor in the middle of the hallway.

I hear Seth rush up the stairs.

He sees me, I tell him what happened, and he shuts the door on the baby items in the room.

For whatever reason, because I can't see the items, I begin to calm down as Seth holds me.

...

It's July 5th.

The girls are in the ground in Wyoming, and the responsibility I feel toward protecting their little bodies is lifted.

They are alright.

I am still hurting, but am also alright.

I find that I'm having an easier time going into the third bedroom and facing the baby items.

I box up the items I made and the items we received from the hospital in temporary boxes so I can get them out of the way.

I want Seth to make a "millennium box" with everything in it so I can use it when my little sweethearts are in my arms again.

Will I need this stuff? I wonder...It doesn't matter. I want it.

...

It's September 23rd.

I want to take cookies to the doctors and nurses who helped me with the girls, so I spend the day baking.

Seth, Porter and I get in the car and travel the hour to the doctor's office once again.

We arrive right at closing time, so I leave the car with cookies in hand while Seth goes to park.

It's surprisingly easy to go back into the office.

Almost like nothing has happened.

I go up to the receptionist desk, but I don't recognise the receptionist behind it.

In three months, it's already different.

I tell her to give the cookies to everyone in the office and make sure they know 'Sierra' gave it to them...unsure she'll even remember my name.

After watching her take the cookies to the back room, I leave.

I don't want to bother the doctors while they are working.

Seth and Porter are walking toward me as I walk out the front door, and I tell them I've already dropped off the cookies.

We go back to the car, and right as I'm about to get in, I spot someone walking toward us and up the parking structure...

"Heather!"

She recognises me, smiles and comes over.

"I was just about to go to the Nurses' station at Labor and Deliver and give you these," I say as I hand her a plate of fresh cookies.

We chat for a bit about how I'm doing and how her family is.

It just so happened that she was taking a class that day and had parked in the same parking structure.

I tell her that she's someone I will never forget, and she tells me the same.

This is why I was supposed to come today...right now.

She is really the one I want to see the most.

After talking for a short while, we part.

Seth, Porter and I still go to Labor and Delivery, though, as we have a plate for Roxann.

A nurse informs us that Roxann isn't working today, so we leave the cookies on the desk with a note for her.

I don't think Roxann will actually get to have any cookies, I think as I set them down.

...

It is November 23rd.

Five months and three days ago, my girls moved for the last time.

I feel like it's time for everyone to know the story.

Every 20th, 21st, 22nd, and 23rd of the past five months has been the same--I think about and almost re-live what happened during those special days and what has happened since.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I want everyone to know that this life-experience is what I am the most thankful for this year.

I'm thankful for this experience because it has helped me realize what and who is most important in my life.

It has helped me to focus on spiritual things more, to be more empathetic, to be a better mother, to not take life for granted, and to be a better family member.

I would never wish this situation on anyone, but I'm grateful that my Heavenly Father has enough faith in me to be able to handle it.

If I do what I am supposed to, I automatically have two beautiful baby girls in the Millennium--something I love thinking about.

Frequently death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and gaiety. It visits the aged as they walk on faltering feet. Its summons is heard by those who have scarcely reached midway in life’s journey, and often it hushes the laughter of little children.
...There is one phrase which should be erased from your thinking and from the words you speak aloud. It is the phrase ‘If only.’ It is counterproductive and is not conducive to the spirit of healing and of peace. Rather, recall the words of Proverbs: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
-Thomas S. Monson