For our family, the one bright spot of Eva's illness, was Ronald McDonald House. The boys were welcomed there. The House is bright and cheery and kid-friendly. The staff is generous with their time and love. The House is for families with seriously ill children. Children like Eva.
When we went to get our fetal echo done last week we stayed there. We stayed there because we were in town for baby's heart and because of our history. We got good news at the echo. Baby's heart looks good. When I relayed that to the the house manager, she was so happy for us and she brightly said "good, now you can't stay here anymore'. And I know it's good news that we can't stay at RMH anymore. But it's another loss too. The loss of our bright spot.
I feel closer to Eva at RMH than I do anywhere else. RMH, for us, was all about Eva. There was no gardening, or piles of laundry, or schooling to do. It was RMH and the hospital. The hospital and RMH. The staff at RMH knew our daughter better than most of our friends did. And also, I had the expectation of visiting RMH on a regular basis, with Eva, for heart checks every few weeks, for a long, long time.
And, not least, we were staying at RMH when Eva's heart stopped. She collapsed in the bathtub at RMH. Resuscitation was attempted on the floor of the front hall of RMH. The ambulance that took her to the hospital where she died in ER picked her up from RMH. RMH is full of Eva's Life and her Death. So, saying good bye to RMH is hard. Harder than I thought it would be. It's another loss. Small compared to the magnitude of losing Eva. Of course, we are welcome to visit-and we will. But it hurts to say good bye to the only place that was truly just for Eva.
I can't really explain it but I know that many of you will understand the loss of the people, places, groups that belonged to our children. The little losses amongst the biggest Loss.