Yesterday, I found out that one of the babies didn’t make it. I’m not taking it well. Even though it was still somewhat early, I’d grown accustomed to the idea of twins, I’d grown attached to both of the babies.
They tell me these things happen, and its really not in my control, wasn’t my fault. They tell me at least you’ve got one healthy baby, (which, don’t ever, ever say to anyone who’s lost a twin at ANY stage. Seriously. Because, yes, one baby lived, but you know what? One didn’t. )
I called my mother to cry and she told me that my stepfathers brain tumor was the bad kind. The say-your-goodbyes now kind. It’s a grade 4 glioma if you care to google. Even having removed it, the prognosis is very bad.
I’m not taking that well either. I just… feel so helpless about all of it. There’s nothing I can do.
And that fucking sucks.