I wrote this in my blog last year,.... Thought I would put it in today for their birthday

Sometimes in life, such tragedies happen that after they occur you divide your life into two. Before it happened,... and after it happened,.... Because life as you knew it ceased to continue. After a tragedy, you change. Your whole foundation tilts and you now look at life through different eyes.

The following is taken from a journal I wrote way back in 1989.

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Life certainly can throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. I never dreamed that in my life I would be sitting down writing this. For what has happened has thrown me into a world of grief, sorrow and loss that I had never felt before and to this day, have never felt again.

At 5:40pm on Wednesday November 29th 1989 my life changed forever.

I woke up that winter morning not feeling well. Nothing serious. I just wasn't feeling myself. I had promised J***'s Mum that I would drive her to a store that day to do some Christmas shopping. If I hadn't made that promise I'm sure I would have just stayed home in bed. But I didn't. Whether it would have made any difference or not, I'll never know. I just know that I can't change anything, and as I write this, I still can't forgive myself. I was having cramps by the afternoon. Being 29 weeks pregnant with twins it certainly concerned me but I continued on with my day regardless.

I finally arrived back home later in the afternoon. The cramps were getting worse now and I was starting to feel quite concerned. I picked up J*** at work and returned home. I changed into my pajamas knowing I would be spending the evening in bed. But the cramps had grown even stronger and I couldn't get comfortable to sleep. I got up to go to the washroom. J*** was in the spare room getting ready to go out Christmas shopping. He mentioned he would call his 8 year old neice A***** to see if she wanted to go with him. I heard them chatting away on the phone.

And that was when it happened. There was a tremendous 'pop', which is the only word I know of to describe it, followed by a gush of warmth that lasted way too long to be pee. Describing my feelings here is tough as everything happened so fast. What I do remember is sitting there for 3 or 4 seconds stunned. I didn't quite know what was happening. And then it hit me. My water had broken. I got up quickly and flushed the toilet without even looking into it. I did that on purpose although I don't know why. Maybe I was afraid of what I would see. I started to panic.

J*** had just finished talking to A***** and was getting ready to leave the house. I called out to him, but it sort of came out in a whisper. He didn't answer. The second time I called out it was louder and you could definitely hear the panic in my voice. He met me in the hall. I can't remember what I told him but the look on his face told me he understood, and now we were both stunned. Neither one of us knowing what to do.

I hurried into the spare room and crawled onto the bed starting to sob. I didn't know what this all meant,... but I knew it was bad. J*** was asking me what he needed to do. I was panicking,... he was panicking,... We decided to call my doctor instead of an ambulance. He left an emergency message with her and then we both just waited for her to call us back. I was sobbing and we were both terrified.

Although I'm sure it was just a few minutes, it seemed like hours before the phone rang. J*** talked to her for a few minutes, his voice shaking, but I have no recollection of what he said. He handed the phone to me. I was surprisingly calm as I explained what had happened. Her instructions were to get to the hospital and she would meet us there. I hung up the phone and that's when I realized just how serious the situation was.

As soon as I stood up to go, blood started pouring out of me, and I panicked once again. I shoved a towel between my legs, and still in my nightgown I threw my coat over top. Put my boots on and went out into the cold night. I sat in the car and shook. Of course the ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. It was rush hour as people clogged the roads trying to get home. I cried as we hit every red light. We made it there in about 15 minutes. I walked into the emergency doors and sort of collapsed on a wheelchair that happened to be sitting there. Admission seemed to take forever.

I was taken upstairs to labour and delivery. A lot of the next hour is just a blur. I was brought into a big room. I was told to undress and to lie down on the bed. Nurses starting putting in an IV. They hooked me up to fetal monitor. There were so many people in the room and things were happening really fast. My doctor arrived then and I could see she had this sympathetic look on her face ~ like she already knew what the outcome was going to be. I did not. At this point, things were happening quickly and I really didn't know what exactly was going on.

A specialist was called. It took a short while to locate him. In the meantime, the nurses and Dr. B***** were checking on the babies. They could only hear one heartbeat. An internal exam discovered the cord wrapped around one of the babies necks. As she was checking me, she let me know I was definitely in labour and had already dilated two centimeters. There was no turning back. This was it.

They started doing more things to me then. Blood was taken,... a catheter inserted,....And then the specialist finally arrived. He must have been told it was an emergency as he literally burst through the door. Newly gloved with his scrubbing gown flowing open behind him as the nurse tried to catch up and tie the ties for him. He had already done an internal exam before he finished telling me his name. Dr. J*****.

He explained the situation to me. He was going to have to perform an emergency Cesarean section. Because they were only finding one heartbeat, and that the cord was wrapped around the babies neck, he felt he needed to get in there and deliver these two boys immediately. As it was, he thought that one of them had died already. Everyone disappeared then. I guess to get ready for the surgery.

I remember lying there. Shivering uncontrollably. And so scared. It had taken us 3 years of fertility treatment just to get pregnant with these babies. I was so terrified we would lose them. They were throwing pieces of paper in front of J*** to sign and I could tell that he didn't care what it was he was signing. He just wanted them to get on with it. As they wheeled me away to the operating room, I can't remember seeing J***. But I must have done as he was there in the room with us. I hope I told him I loved him.

Once in the operating room, there seemed to be lots going on. I was lifted onto the operating table. My arms were put onto boards which stuck directly out beside me. They were strapped down. A mask was placed over my nose and mouth. Everything around me started swimming into a dreamlike fog. Then there was nothing.

I heard a voice, weak and barely audible. My throat was so dry. "Are they alright?" "What are they?" Was I dreaming? What was going on?My eyelids were so heavy I had to fight to open them. It was then that I realized the tiny voice was mine. I was waking up. Someone answered they were boys and they were alive. That's all I needed to know before I fell back to sleep.

Next I remember being back in the first room. J*** was there beside me. I don't recall much of the waiting, except that at one point, Mom and Dad were there too. We actually waited in there for over four hours, but to me it didn't seem long at all. I mostly slept. J*** convinced my parents that nothing more could be done and they reluctantly agreed to go home. Now it was just the two of us.

We were waiting to see our babies. Apparently when they were born it was quite critical. A team of four neo-natoligists were working on each boy to try and stabalize their conditions enough to move them. Their little lungs weren't fully developed, making it impossible for them to breathe on their own. And they were very, very, small. One was 490 grams and the other 560 grams. Approximately a pound each.

So we waited, discussing names. Two were chosen. "Shawn Robert" and "Ian Gordon" Now it was complete. They were two little people. They were our sons. We were now a family.

I still couldn't believe that all of this had happened. It was all just so over-whelming. Doctors would come in every so often and give us updates on their progress. Once they were stabilized they were going to airlift them by helicopter to "Toronto Sick Kids Hospital" where they were much better equipped at dealing with their needs. But, before they left, they were going to bring them into us for us to finally see them.

At this point, I had not yet seen my baby boys. All I knew was that they were alive. I also did not realize how critical they were. Not really. The doctor used the word 'critical' every time they spoke of them. But to me, that was just a word. A medical term that hospital staff used. It didn't have anything to do with Shawn and Ian. Not in my mind anyway. To me, this was just a crisis. Something that would scare and worry us for awhile, but would soon pass and things would all be okay eventually. I knew that somewhere down the road J*** and I would be bringing our baby sons home. All I had to do was be patient. I honestly felt that from the bottom of my heart. These were my babies. No one, not even god, was cruel enough to take my babies away from me.

When they finally brought them in for us to see, many emotions filled me. They were both in the same incubator. Both were covered up completely in this shiny paper, like thin aluminum foil to keep as much heat in as they could. I remember thinking to myself before they uncovered them. "How can they breath? Take that paper off of them so they can breath!" But the nurse reminded me that they had been intubated and machines were doing the breathing for them.

When they did uncover them my heart nearly broke. There they were. Our sons! Shawn and Ian. My poor sweet little babies. They looked nothing like I expected them too. They were so tiny. Their skin wasn't fully formed yet so it was still transparent. They both had cleft palettes and their eyes still hadn't completely formed so they were still shut. They were so still and looked so vulnerable. One of the boys was on his back and the other one was on his side.I couldn't believe they were real. Now the dream of bringing them home looked less likely.

As I sat there looking at them a tremendous amount of love welled up inside of me. It was instant. And deep. It overwhelmed me with emotion. Tears fell. It pained me so much to look at them. With tubes and machines hooked up to them everywhere, I wanted to reach down and pull them all out. This was no way for a baby to come into the world. One minute their both safe and warm inside my womb and the next they are in the world. Machines all hooked up to them. It wasn't right. It looked like they were in pain. My heart ached. It literally felt like pain. This was just not what I wanted for them.

Someone told us to go ahead and touch them. At first I was too afraid. They were so fragile that I thought they might break. But I did. And that changed everything. I reached down and touched one of them. I held his tiny little hand. It wasn't any bigger than my thumb nail. But it changed something deep within the core of my being. A Mother's love. This was my son and I was touching him for the very first time. Then one of them moved. A leg I think. And the reality of the situation hit me then. I never wanted to let go of that dear little hand. In fact, I wanted to scoop him up and hold him really close to my heart. I wanted to feel him next to me. Skin to skin. To feel him breathe. I just knew that if I could hold him close enough, he would know that his Mommy loved him and everything would be alright. I ached inside for him to know that. But I couldn't pick him up. Too may tubes and machines. And they didn't want them out of the incubator even for a minute or they would lose too much heat. So I had to resolve myself to just holding their tiny little hands. And, to this day, I deeply regret it. I will never forgive myself for not picking them up and showing them they had a mommy who desperately loved them and wanted them to get better.

This all happened so quickly. In a matter of minutes. And before we knew it, they were whisked away to the waiting helicopter on the roof. Sadly, I never saw my sons alive again. That incubator held a piece of me in it. And now it was being taken away.  And I will forever have an emptiness deep in my heart that can never be filled.

When they were gone, I lay my head back down on the pillow. That was when I noticed . No more movement. No more kicking. In fact, when I placed my hand lightly upon my belly, it was gone.

Before today, I would feel my swollen belly and smile.It wasn't a dream. God had blessed me with not one, but two little babies. And every morning when I felt my belly ~ I would thank God. Now there was nothing but the sore raw scar. All I could do was shed tears of pain and wonder why?

I was taken up to my room after that. So far, there was no one else in it. Good. I needed to be alone. J*** left to go home then. He was tired. I had to remember that he had been through this too. He was hurting just as much as I was. He too needed some time to process all of this.

When I was alone, I started bargaining with God. If he would keep my babies alive, I would do whatever he wanted. I prayed that night. And fell asleep with tears of hope sliding softly onto my pillow.

The next morning was confusing. All the nurses were asking me about Ian and Shawn , but I didn't know anything. None of the doctors were around to tell me anything. J*** would know ~ but where was he? It was unusual for J*** not to be there. It was agony. Waiting and not knowing. I couldn't reach the phone as I couldn't sit up yet from the surgery. Where was he? I needed to know how my babies were. I felt very alone.

Finally, later in the morning J*** walked through the door. And right away I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. Now I know why he was avoiding me. He was trying to spare my feelings by prolonging the news. It couldn't have been easy for him. So when he told me, I wasn't surprised. Ian hadn't made it. He died around two o'clock in the morning. As much as this hurt me I did not give up hope. Shawn was still alive. I just knew he would pull through. He had too!

My room mate had arrived by then. That was very hard on me. There she was with this beautiful healthy baby. Everyone coming in to congratulate her. And here I was, sore and weepy and filled with fear for Shawn. My breasts were filling up with milk yet I had no baby to feed. Every noise of my room mate's baby feeding left the front of my nightgown wet. My breasts were gorged and telling me to empty my milk. It wasn't fair. J*** arranged for me to have a private room that evening.

The next morning I was feeling a little bit better. I had a sponge bath and that seemed to help. I had also not only sat up but had taken a few short steps to the chair. It was extremely painful. Because it was such an emergency to get the babies out as quick as they could, I had had to perform what is known as a 'classic Cesarean'. Which is quite rare. I had an 8 inch cut form the top of my belly right down to the hairline. And it was quite painful. But again, I was bargaining with God. If I took good care of myself, and pushed myself to get better quickly, then God would take care of Shawn. I had even had mine and J***'s Mum in to see me. I was feeling quite optimistic.

So when J*** came in, and broke the news, It hit me like a lead ball. At first there was silence. And then a painful, gut-wrenching scream. No! No! This couldn't be happening. Why? What had I ever done that was so terrible that God had taken away my two little babies before I could even hold them? I just didn't understand. J*** and I clung to each other. So close. I held him desperately. We both sobbed. "I want my babies back!' I was almost hysterical now. "I want my babies!!" I lost control and slid to the floor. The pain was nothing I had ever experienced before. My world had just imploded around me. Six months of carrying them inside of me. Feeling them move. Holding my belly and waiting for their kicks. Talking to them. Singing to them. Already loving them so deeply it hurt. And now ~ they were gone. I couldn't cope with this. I just wanted to die.

You always hear the expression 'it broke my heart'. But you never fully know what that truly feels like until you lose a child. It's a pain. Deep in your chest. It's relentless and unbearable. And you know that nothing will ever be the same again.

I cried every night almost all night long. I wanted to see them. To hold them. I wanted my babies back. It was a physical pain. I needed them. I couldn't live without them. I was a mess. My recovery got much slower after that. It hurt so much just to sit up. Taking 5 to 10 minutes. Now it took longer. I would give up sobbing. I didn't see much of a need to get better now.

But, during the day, I hid my tears. Smiled for my visitors. I'm strong. I'll get through this. I had everyone convinced. But the moment that room grew dark and everyone had gone. I would think of my little Shawn and Ian. Where were they now? What would happen to them? I wanted to see them ~ just one last time. And I would cry because I never got to hold them.

We had a funeral for them a couple of days later. I don't actually recall much of it really. I just remember looking at those two tiny white coffins. So sad. So tragic.

I would never be the same person I was before all this happened. Death. Especially of a child is so all-consuming you don't think your ever going to survive it. But the grief slowly subsides and life does go on. We went on to have two more children. Two beautiful healthy daughters. But there will always be a hole that can never be filled for the loss of my two boys. Shawn and Ian.