We babyloss mamas all have (at least) one place we avoid like the plague. Because it's filled with memories. And those memories have teeth.
Yesterday I had to walk through those doors, right into the assault.
The bill for the yearly license for the store was due. I tried to focus straight ahead to the window I needed to go to.
But as I passed the left-turn I'd in the past made for the WIC department. The Help Me Grow door. Where I took my official pregnancy test and applied for Medicaid because we had no maternity coverage.
I remembered the last time I walked that hallway. When I returned my WIC coupons. When I'd told the office clerk that my baby had died.
For a moment, she was speechless. I pushed those vouchers into her hand. She insisted on talking to me about their postpartum program. I fled the room, the office, the building.
Our worlds are seeded with emotional landmines.