Going back in time

Yesterday I went back to the maternity center where I had Ryan.

It certainly wasn't an ideal plan, but I needed to speak with my labor and delivery nurse, Robyn, and since she was still on her shift, I didn't have a lot of say in where we met.

The one redeeming thing about my visit is that it must've been a slow day: There were no laboring women wandering the halls; there were no newborn cries to be heard; and I didn't see a single baby.

Thank God for small miracles.

Still, there was that overwhelming wave of sadness that washed over me as I pulled into the parking lot and remembered everything from Ryan's birth day. I was sad, too, because I knew I would be walking out of those doors once again empty-handed and with a heavy, heavy heart.

Maybe going there was something I needed to do before - God willing - I have another baby, since it will more than likely be delivered there. Maybe overcoming this obstacle was yet another step in the healing process that needed to be taken. Or, maybe it was none of those reasons and merely coincidence and nothing more.

Just as everything else I don't understand, I'll probably never know why. I can only guess.