Today we were out running an errand and E wanted to get lunch. We went through my usual "I have no appetite, you need to decide where..." discussion, and he finally pulled up in front of one of our favorite spots. We haven't eaten there in a while, it seemed innocuous enough. I went in, put our name in, and stood waiting for our table.
All of a sudden. Explosion. I flashed back to the last time we were there. It was E's birthday. We had just gone to our first ultrasound. Saw the baby's heartbeat. My little gummy bear. We ate lunch, smiling with our joy and expectation. Afterwards we drove over to my mom's house to show her the first photographs of her grandson.
And just like that, I was brought to my knees. The tears started to fall, slowly at first. E asked what was happening, I tried to tell him. I couldn't breathe, I could barely speak...I got out enough of a description for him to realize what I was remembering, and he grabbed me and walked me out of the restaurant. I grabbed him outside, and started sobbing. (Right outside a baby store, it's like some cruel trick that they seem to pop up whenever I'm having an incredibly hard time.) We decided to walk somewhere else for lunch. Of course at this point there was no way I was going to be able to put anything in my mouth - eating has become so difficult even when I'm doing okay...in those hard moments I can't even swallow, much less actually eat anything.
The second place we ended up was a place I went with two old high school friends for a minireunion last spring. Again, a place I totally associated with being full of hope and excitement and anticipation about my pregnancy. I sobbed while E ordered his lunch to go, and we silently walked back to the car to drive home, to our home, where at least I can more or less anticipate where the landmines will be and choose to visit them only at times when I feel particularly strong....
I've managed to handle being at my "regular" haunts pretty well lately. It's the less-frequently traveled-to spots that seem to hold the bigger bombs, the ones that rip me to shreds so instantly. And I've talked about this with other BLMs, or seen it written on others' blogs, that it's so often the shocks that we don't anticipate that hit us the hardest. I never would have thought that going to this area in town for lunch today would have hit me so hard. I couldn't anticipate it. And just like that, I am blown to pieces, all over again.