December 2nd

For a week I've been meaning to visit the cemetery. We have the Christmas poinsettias to put in the vase at the girls' graveside. I planned on going on Thanksgiving day, but the day was packed with activity and there was no time. Every day since then has seemed to be equally packed with things - just the daily things that take up nearly every spare minute of the day.

But, today I really wanted to go. While I was getting Hugh settled for his morning nap, I had a perfect plan of how my day would go so that I could squeeze in a little time at the cemetery. Almost immediately my plans went completely different than how I hoped. 

Hugh never did really go down for his morning nap (though I gave him an hour to try) and Ben initially only went down for thirty minutes. While playing quietly with Ben (& Grandpa), he kept crawling into my lap, so I finally took his hint for wanting more sleep and cuddled him until he fell asleep again, this time for an extra 75 minutes.

So, then I played with Hugh (after his failed attempt to nap), while Ben slept. And by the time Ben woke up it was lunch time. As soon as lunch was finished, diapers were changed and then I played with the boys on the floor for a bit. 

(There was a little scare at that point, just after Marc left for a meeting, when a homeless-looking man banged loudly on our door. I'm not sure what he wanted, since I didn't dare answer the door. It gave my heart a good race, though.) 

At that point it was afternoon nap time and I was determined to help Hugh get in a good nap. (Partly so that I could also squeeze in a nap myself - going on day four of stuffy-head-cold-flu-like symptoms.) Fortunately Hugh did cooperate and, with help from my Mom, Ben went down for a second nap. As dreaded fate would have it, though, Hugh was waking up just as Ben was going down - thwarting my plans for the umpteenth time today.

By this point, I started to realize that my trip to the cemetery wasn't going to happen. I tried to not feel guilty. Thinking of the girls all day has to count for something. My thoughts were reflective more than sad, and grateful more than mournful. No matter what, I'll always associate today's date with what would have been the twins' anticipated due date. As much as I wish they could be here now, I was reminded today that sometimes our plans just don't work out like we hope and plan for. 

And, in the end, it's all okay.

In my case, I would say things have worked out far better than anything I ever could have hoped for. Maybe life is just as much about making plans as it is about being open to changes in those plans.

(I'm still determined to get those poinsettias to the cemetery before the week's end.)