I seem to be remembering pieces of the past recently.
The feelings are being recreated in burst of emotion
they disappear but leave a trace behind.
Like a string of light

My daughter was just over a year old
She was very sick and dehydrated so they admitted her to Children's Hospital.
My husband and I were separated
he was living with his girlfriend.
My family was there, thank God
but it was Christmas day and they were celebrating, together
I felt so very alone.

I was pregnant with twins at the time.
Just a few weeks after Christmas i went into labor, early.

I could hear both of their heart beats
loud and clear
as I heard the doctor say, I don't think they'll make it
they're just to small and I can't stop labor.

My biggest regret that night
was when the nurse said there could only be one person in the room with me.
I sent my dad out
and let my drunk, hickey filled and separated from me husband stay.
I consoled him as he weep with his head on my chest.

Oh how I wish I would have let my dad stay
be with me in a time where i needed someone else's strength
not to give what little i had.

I will never forget the tears that ran down my dad's face
as I repeatedly said this can't be happening, my babies.
He said, I know. I knew he did.

The thing is...i never allowed myself to feel any of these feelings
deep inside
I never allowed myself to scream
cause,
I knew it was my own fault I was here
in labor, way to early.
I felt i deserved every bit of the pain.
But they didn't. My girls didn't deserve this.

Jessica died at birth
Melissa lived in Children's Hospital for two and a half months.

One of those spurts of overwhelm and pain I've been remembering
driving down 405 through the S curves in my little Datsun B210.
The vision, the thought, the temptation to crank the steering wheel as hard as i could
I could see the guard rail so close and yet so far.
It wouldn't be fair though to those driving around me.
It wouldn't be fair to my beautiful daughter who was at home with my family
at just over a year old.
It wouldn't be fair to Melissa
my 1lb 11oz. baby girl who was fighting for her life.
so i kept driving
that drive to the hospital almost everyday for two and half months.

And then one day,
as I walking through the hall
I looked up and said quietly said
something has to happen here.
I am so tired.

Just a few weeks later
I kissed my little girl on the forehead and said good bye
She opened her eyes bright and looked at me.
She was dying and we made the decision to remove the breathing tube.
I went outside as they removed it and i just wanted to run
to run and run and run
but i din't.
The doctor must have told me three times that he had never saw anything like it
the way she opened her eyes when I kissed her forehead.
Never, anything like it.
Can they ever forgive me?

I wish I could say that is the only time I've felt so small in such a great big world.
So small that a meeting with the guard rail felt so right.
It's enough for today though.

I will embrace these feeling.
Dance with them, if you will.
Release and allow.

One thing I know for sure is
I am forever grateful that I didn't make contact with that guard rail
there's so much to live for.