The Drive Home

Lately these things keep creeping into my thoughts.  To be truthful, it is not like it is not ever-present.  Although, each day a different scene or memory may take center stage.

This particular memory is very close to the surface.  Most likely it was the anticipation of Twin 1 and Twin 2 and their journey home from the hospital that has sparked these thoughts.

The hospital where our son was born is 58 minutes from our home.  I have made that drive many many times.  Most good and some not so good.  The afternoon our son passed away.  We went back to our “room” which was a 6×8′ with a bed, a night stand and a local call only telephone to pack our lives up to return home.  Knowing, that we were leaving the one and only thing that mattered most, we packed and headed out.

In the next 90 seconds I was introduced to the life after.  My new life as a Mother with empty arms.  As we left our “room” we encountered a Prenatal group doing their hospital tour.  It was in those moments it hit me what day it was.  WEDNESDAY.  For last 3 weeks, a new group came through, every Wednesday.  I had just said goodbye to our son,  and am instantly faced with 15 couples, days and weeks from birth.  All I could stammer out was “Oh shit, it is Wednesday.  I need out.  Get me the H out of here”

Out to the parking lot we go.  Suitcase, purse, coats, cards and well wishes in tow.  We place everything in the trunk and got into the car.  I decide to drive.  It has been three weeks since my C-section so I am going to anyway and my husband looks shell-shocked.  Best if I drive.

I put the keys into the ignition and just sit there looking at the building.  There we sit for minutes upon minutes.  The back seat is empty.  The car seat is at home in a box.  It was shipped the day before he was born.  (it still sits in the same box unopened)  We head out.

No one ever discussed how to drive home alone.   We got home in record time that evening.  I could not stand the torture.  The utter pain and agony of leaving him there and driving our family home.  DH and I held hands and cried.  I will continue to relive that drive home for the rest of our lives.

Every time we head somewhere as a family.  We relive parts of that journey.  Our backseat is still empty.

 

 

 

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3 responses

  1. Oh dear God. My friend, I don’t know what to say except how forever deeply and achingly sorry I am that C never made that first or any drive home with you two. I cannot even imagine how awful being in the car must be. I had not thought of that (I’m sorry, please forgive me).

    September 18, 2015 at 4:54 pm

    • Jo

      It is odd, sometimes the things that stir the memories. It means much just to be able to share. I am the one that should say I am sorry for upsetting you with the memories!

      September 22, 2015 at 9:01 pm

      • You should never say sorry for remembering your son. It is an honor to share in your memory of him even though it hurts.

        September 22, 2015 at 9:09 pm

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