The circle of life

H and I have been trying to decide on the most appropriate way to mourn, and simultaneously commemorate, those poor babies that I lost. I honestly wasn't expecting this feeling to stick with me for so long, but it's nearly never left my mind since the whole thing(s) happened. I've heard of a lot of people doing things like burying the fetal tissue or something like that, but I have to admit that it's always sounded a bit weird to me. Even now when I think about it, it's hard to imagine me doing that, especially since it would have involved keeping the tissue, or recovering it from the toilet. I mean, it's just not for me.

We did say a (very tearful) prayer over the tissue before I flushed it, so I guess that counts a little. But the thing that has been haunting me endlessly is this idea that there are two children whose lives will never come to fruition and whose faces I'll never get to see, even though they belonged to me. It's hard to accept, and it torments me. Every time I see a baby I just get this feeling deep in my chest, similar to the sensation of hearing nails run down a chalkboard, it just sends shivers down my spine and makes me dizzy and nauseated all at the same moment.

So, after talking about it for a while and trying to figure out how to get some sort of closure (at least SOME), we've decided to plant a couple of trees. I guess it works out, though, because if those little beans had grown to be full adults, and then they died one day after a long life, their bodies would have most likely become food for plants, just like all the rest of our bodies will. So I guess we're just commemorating their contribution to the circle of life by growing trees, it's just unfortunate that their circles were so prematurely closed. I can't think about it too much or I start to get upset, so instead I'll talk about the trees.

We decided to buy citrus trees, since they could flower and bear fruit, and they could most likely live for quite a while...maybe not as long as a human, but a while....longer than my little ones got to live anyway. So here they are:

They haven't been potted yet, so I'll have to make another post for that, but it makes me feel good to have them. It sounds stupid, but it sort of curbs my sorrow and disappointment about the miscarriages to know that there are still two new living things in this house, and that they represent those other two non-living things that were never able to begin their lives here. Maybe it's a little weird, but I feel like I can put all the energy of caring for them and watching them grow that I would have put into my little beans into these plants...and the fact that they bear fruit makes me even more excited.

I realize that it's just a symbol, but it's a very important symbol to me, and it's helping me to cope with these feelings of insignficance and depression that I feel like I'm fighting daily. Each one of the plants is beautiful in a different way, and I've given them names. The taller one is Louis...he's a Key Lime tree, and guess what? He's already got two limes on him (photo to the right)!! The shorter and prettier one (sorry Louis!) is called Virginia and she's got pretty little pink tips on her, with yellow and green leaves. She's a Pink Lemon tree and her fruit will be striped green and yellow, with pink flesh. I'm really excited about seeing what her fruits look like. She doesn't have any yet, but you can still see how pretty her leaves are from the picture to the left. They are both very small plants right now, but I'm hoping that once I transplant them, they'll be able to stretch their legs and grow some. They should do well indoors, but I'll probably put them outside during the day to let them feel the sunlight on their leaves.

I'm not sure what a psychiatrist would tell me about all of this, but honestly, I couldn't care less. Right now, all I'm worried about is doing what I need to do to keep myself sane and to get some closure...and I'm just trying to focus on a future filled with good, sweet fruit.