This is the Fisher House at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. After Ethan died, I wanted out of the hospital. I had been there too long, and I couldn't deal with the constant flow of nurses and doctors anymore. Every second I was there was a painful reminder that our boys were never going to come home with us. I was discharged, and we were given a room at the Fisher House for the night. There was more paperwork that needed to be filled out, but it had to wait until the next morning.
We packed up our things and headed over to the Fisher House. The house was beautiful. We had a full suite to ourselves. It was a bedroom, private living room, and private bathroom. I am so thankful that we had that place to go.
The thing I wish I could forget about that place was waking up and realizing that my boys were no longer here. Everything was peaceful in my dreams. Joseph and I had been up for days, so we both just collapsed into bed the night before. That morning, I woke to the sun shining into the window. I had been in the same hospital room for the past 3.5 weeks. I had slept alone, with Joseph on the pull out couch (bless his poor back) for 3.5 weeks. I had my 5am medical student every. single. morning. while I was admitted. There is no sleeping in the hospital. This morning, I slept until the sun was high in the sky.
I opened my eyes and realized what had happened the day before. My stomach dropped, and I felt the intense grief of the previous days. I wish I could forget that feeling. Just thinking about it brings me right back to that room. I remember opening my eyes and wondering how the world was still turning.
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