Monday, 5 November 2012

It's Just A Building,,, It's Just A Buidling

It's been just over two years since my son died and was born.

In the beginning of my grief journey I was plagued by flashbacks. Sometimes the smallest thing would trigger a memory in me. A memory of something that would then flood back into my head, playing behind my eyes like a film at a cinema. The smallest thing would transport me right back to that time and place. Transport me right back to that pain, as if it was happening again in the present.

I hated the flashbacks. They had a way of ruining what could have been a pretty good day. Or ruining what I was hoping would be a really good day. They ruined a lot of days. Some days they ruined me too.

One of the more vivid flashbacks I had was back in February of 2011. I wrote about it here. It was triggered by a building. Not just any building of course. It was the building where I had to go to register the stillbirth of my son. It was a horrible day and I think I did a pretty good job of explaining my feelings in the post I linked to so I won't go back into detail here.

I've been back to that building. As you've probably guessed, I had to go back to register the live birth of Frostina. I didn't write about it at the time because I was in my new baby haze and lots of things slipped through my mind. But it was quite a surreal experience.

It is so different walking in to register the birth of your living baby. Of course, most people have nothing to compare it to,,,, but I do.

I braced myself for the occasion. Preparing for the flood of emotions that I was sure would come. In kindness to any potential dead baby parents, I opted to leave Frostina home with The Hubby. I wouldn't want to put anyone through what I went through. Plus, I didn't really want to have to drag her down there and be around people who could have colds or the flu or some other "icky" germs.

I also wanted to brave it on my own because I had gone the first time on my own. I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.

And I did.

I went down, registered her birth, and made it home in one piece. I held it together (pretty much) and was very proud of myself. This time I didn't cry in the lobby, or in the room, or in the taxi on the way home. I went down, faced my demons, and headed back home to my beautiful baby girl.

That was that... or so I thought.

Just this past week I had to take Frostina to the doctor for a check up. I've been playing around with the best way to get her there. I tried taxis but they get expensive. The tube is out of the question because it's not at all baby buggy friendly. So that leaves the bus. It's not a direct route and it's taken me a couple of times to figure out the easiest way. The most direct way.

The way that makes me walk past "That Building."

I didn't even realize it at first. I was so lost in thought and trying to find the bus stop that I didn't notice where I was. Until I was standing right in front of it.

Cue flashback. Well to be more specific, cue flashback of a flashback.

I was transported back to that day when I was trying desperately to keep myself together. To try and get from the tube station to the restaurant to meet my friends without crying. My unsuccessful attempts to cry and not have everyone who walked past me notice. The strength it took for me to pull myself together so that none of my friends would know I had been sobbing minutes before.

I thought my flashbacks were a thing of the past. I guess I was wrong.

This time I did not cry though. I just kept reminding myself, it's just a building,,, it's just a building.

I hope at some point I am able to walk past this building and believe it. But for now, it's always a painful reminder of days gone by.

1 comment:

  1. I'm so sad for and proud of you. You are a brave Mama