For the last seven weeks, I have been smiling half smiles. The kind of smiles that only affect the bottom half of your face making it look, to the casual observer, like you are actually smiling, but leaving your eyes vacant.

Smiling real, full smiles is too painful sometimes.

I didn’t know what that felt like before.

I have been rationing smiles and laughs lately. Secretly, they have made me feel guilty. I notice that on the rare occasion when I actually have enjoyed myself recently, I suddenly will feel like I’ve been slapped by reality and I think, What kind of a terrible person ARE you? A good mother would be mourning still, not enjoying herself so close to losing her babies.

And then, there I am…inevitably surrounded by people who have no idea of my internal conflict, and can’t understand why I suddenly stopped laughing and have that tacky pasted-on smile again.

I wasn’t sure if this whirlwind trip to Iowa was going to be a good idea. I thought maybe I’d spend more time looking at the inside of a tissue box than spending time with my favorite people, but that’s not what happened. Not at all.

For the first time in seven weeks, I laughed so hard I was doubled over…but I wasn’t doubled over in pain. Not a single moment for the entire weekend did I feel like a guilty, terrible mother for enjoying myself and my family. Never once did I force a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

I thought it would be the opposite. I thought I would feel our losses more acutely than ever before, but I didn’t.

Tonight as we drove I was scanning through our pictures, and I was actually surprised by how many candid shots Joey caught of me, and in almost every one I’m…SMILING.

And it was then I realized how good it had felt to laugh, to smile, and to heal, all while surrounded by my family.