“I drove by the hospital you were born at the other day.
Isn’t it strange how places hold our memories too?
That girl, that belly, those aches.
That ‘we’re doing this’ feeling.
The ‘baby’s coming now’ rush.
It all came back.
The parking garage; your dad with bags.
The waiting and the wonder.
All in those walls.
The nervous departure and the clean car seat (is it in right?).
My body rearranging, contracting; yours sleeping so new.
Summer is just starting.
Then two years later, a soft snowfall when we met your sister; when everything was new again.
The apartment we called home for so many years, just around the corner from that hospital; a king sized bed that held so many long sleeps.
So near and so far.
Who were those kids?
Who are these parents?
Now, we go home to our home — the only home you know so far, besides me and that body, before we went into this hospital that day.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Cassie Shortsleeve of Dear Sunday. You can follow her journey on Instagram and join her mom groups on her website. Submit your own story here and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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