Skip to content

Home of the Past

See that counter top? It’s where my 7 month old sons lifeless body lay, as my husband performed CPR. While a 911 operator coached him through it. While I paced every inch of our tiny two bedroom condo pleading for my son to come back to life. While my screams filtered out of our open windows and into the ears of the neighbors who would rush to our aid. While our 3.5 year old sat on the sofa mere feet away, watching. While emergency responders were dispatched to our home.

I can still hear the sirens approaching, still see the emts running up the stairs. As birds chirped, and the sun shined outside the big picture windows. A beautiful, bright, and warm July morning that didn’t at all seem to suit the circumstances unfolding within those walls.

I remember feeling completely disconnected from myself, those deeply contrasting sights and sounds pulling me away from my own body, unable to grasp how something so horrific could be happening in our world as everyone else’s kept spinning.

We couldn’t stay, it was too painful. My family packed up our things over the next few weeks. We returned only to stand in its somber emptiness one last time before signing it over to someone else. It’s been nearly 4 years since those walls held our family within them. While we love our big, beautiful house with a view, I think about that tiny condo all the time. It was where Rowan had so many firsts, where we got engaged, where I miscarried, where we struggled with infertility, where we brought our rainbow baby home to, the only home Sloan ever lived in.

That sweet little condo, forever marred by our trauma, would never be our home again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: