I still miss her. Every day. I got irrationally mad this past Friday because the cleaning lady moved Shannon's urn. They don't ever even dust my dresser, so why in the world would they have reason to move her? Super annoying.
Then, last week, exactly six months to the day that we found out that she was dead and I went to the hospital to deliver her, I get a call from the hospital where Shannon was born. Seems that they were doing some housekeeping and found all of the photos of her that they took. The ones that they told me were lost forever because they never got them because the camera wasn't working that day. Yea, guess they were wrong. So, they asked me if I wanted them. Hello? What do you think? Of course I want them. But, of course, I started getting upset and told them that there was no way in hell that I was going to go to L&D to get them. So, the nurse offered to bring them down to the parking lot for me. I can't go back there. I've been there 3 times in the past 2 years and I have no babies to show for it. Pathetic. If I hadn't had my son there, I'd probably believe that the building was cursed. But I can say now, six months later, that should I ever get pregnant again (please), I never want to go to that hospital again.
I never knew that just pulling into a hospital parking lot could make me sadder than I was. (who knew that the hospital would find that one last band-aid and yank it off?) (who am I kidding to think that was the last band aid?) But sure enough, there I was, holding an envelope full of photos and crying. And these weren't very good photos. Unlike living babies (correction - most living babies, some are just fug), dead ones don't get prettier as time wears on. Shannon will always be beautiful to me, but just the same, I recognize that, like my grief, there are some things that I will always keep for myself. Like my pictures of my beautiful baby from the hospital. But thanks just the same for the note cards with the matching envelopes.
I guess that's it. There are likely few traces of Shannon in the outside world, only in my heart and in the hearts of her dad and brother. No more photos to find, no more bills to fight over. But my heart still hurts. Every day. I guess six months is not really a long time after all.
1 comment:
Liz, it is so weird how our situations keep paralleling (is that a word?) I decided to call the hospital last week and see if they had any pictures of Tyler. I really didn't want them, but if they had them I felt like I should have them. They didn't, but anyway, I had to go to the hospital to review my records to take to the high-risk Dr and pulling into that parking lot made my heart ache. I couldn't believe the hurt that just seeing that place and walking in those doors created. Just when things start to get better, it seems like there is something new that hurts. 6 months down, a lifetime to go . . . {{hugs}}
Post a Comment