It's a cold, drizzly, uninspiring day today, so My Beloved and I decided to wander out and see if we could find some way to amuse ourselves. After picking up a prescription at the drug store, we decided to head over to a mall not far from my Mom and Dad's house to wander about for a bit.
There's always something to see at the mall. If it's not window shopping it's people watching - and both are pretty amusing on cold, drizzly spring days when you can't bear the sight of your own four walls anymore.
Anyway, we got chatting in the car about something or other, and missed the turn off. Not a tragedy since the next major intersection also takes us right past the mall.
The problem is, that street also takes us right past the hospital where Thomas was born.
As soon as we made the turn, I started to feel a little panic welling up in my chest. I hadn't driven up that road and past the hospital since the last time we made the trek there - the day before Thomas was born.
My heart started beating faster the closer we got...
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I can vividly remember the countless trips to the hospital (my OB was in the office right next door) and all the happy chattering I did to My Beloved or my Dad on the way home once I knew all was well with my little Peanut. My Dad dropped me off and picked me up when My Beloved couldn't make it to the appointments to spare me the expense and agony of parking in the always jammed parking garage. In fact, my Dad was the second person to find out that Thomas was a boy. It was on one of those happy rides back to their house that I proudly exclaimed, "I saw testicles!!"
It's like it was yesterday.
Driving along that road and past the hospital today brought back so many memories, and with them so many awful feelings. As soon as I saw the big blue H I thought, "that's the place where Thomas died."
It only took a few seconds to drive past. Just a few seconds. But the agony that I now associate with that building will stay with me for an entire lifetime. I don't know if I can ever look at it with anything but horror and anxiety again. My baby died there. How can it possibly be anything more than a giant morgue to me?
I hate this. I hate what this has done to me. I hate the sorrow and pain that I know I can never escape from. I hate that I'm different, I hate that I'm sad, I hate that My Beloved is sad, I hate that Thomas is gone and I hate that a street and a building can throw me into this much turmoil after more than a year.
I hate it all.