It was late at night as we headed to the hospital. I called my mom to sit with my kids. We drove in the dark to the emergency room. We walked in and told them what was happening. It felt hauntingly like the last time.
But thank heavens there was no tragedy this week.
We were only there to fix my son’s right thumb – he got a fishing hook stuck deep into his flesh.
This time I wasn’t going to have to hear that my unborn baby had died.
I couldn’t help having flashbacks Monday night as my husband and I took a trip to the ER. I was taken back six and a half years to when we headed there April 22, 2010.
That’s when, in the early, early, morning hours, we found out that our little Luca had died; and that I would have to deliver him stillborn.
The human mind amazes me. Some things it won’t let me remember, others it won’t let me forget. Then some forgotten things resurface at the most peculiar times. That’s when I remember things I thought I had forgotten.
Like how dark, cold and lonely it felt in the middle of the night driving to the hospital to be checked with Luca.
Like how terrible I felt calling my mom to come sit with my kids when I knew she needed her sleep.
Like the look and feeling I got from the nurses when I told them I thought something was wrong.
All of that, and more, washed over me as I sat in the emergency room waiting room this week.
I’ve been melancholy ever since. Did that all really happen? Did I have to say goodbye to my baby boy?
Losing a child has forever changed me. The farther away I get from his loss, the more I realize I will never be far enough.
No matter how well I’m doing, no matter how much I have to look forward to in life, deep down there will always be an immense heartache that is constantly healing inside my heart. And sometimes that heartache will pop back up and surprise me.
Sometimes when I least expect it.