Due Dates are never set in stone, they’re estimated, a rough idea of when you get to meet your baby.
A countdown to meeting a brand new person, fresh and new, a person to watch and grow into their own. Made by you. It is I guess a blind date, you know you’re meeting your child, but have no idea on what they will look like, you may not even know the gender, a complete blind love.
The date that could change your life.
Not everyone remembers their baby’s due date years down the line, others use it a conversation starter, an ice breaker or something to giggle about at their son’s 18th birthday, when he is late for a party and he was 13 days over due, “He’s always been late, he’s never changed with his poor time keeping.”
I remember all of my children’s Due Dates, my eldest born 12 years ago, was due 29th April, but due to pregnancy issues, we made it to the 8th with an induction. My son had a due date of 19th January, but I had a c-section on the 14th, he was born on my husband’s due date, my husband born on his due date – they had switched. Baby four, her due date was 1st April, but that too was changed for a c-section 15th March, baby five was due 4th July was born 15th June. The dates are all special, and a part of their life beginnings.
Melody’s first Due date was 20th May, this is actually our wedding anniversary, but the date was put back to 28th May, a date which became our official due date, as the pregnancy progressed we were then given a c-section date. She was due to be evicted on the 22nd May, a Monday.
We had everything planned, even a lift to the hospital as my husband wasn’t driving at the time, we wanted to keep the date secret to people around us, to keep it a surprise.
Her life, her journey had begun and ended long before we ever reached May.
We’ve hit that day today, yet it seems so long ago since we had her birthday, of course it is, nearly 13 weeks ago.
For me it is the last of the dates, where I feel I can remember her in her own right, it is a date I hold tightly on to, a day which is connected to her.
Another date that in an ideal world should have been so very different, as with the other dates I hold on to dearly.
Her burial date,
Her discharge date,
Her discharge date,
Her due date.
They’re so significant, and are what make her feel to me like she existed.
These dates are somewhat official.
They’re recorded, they’re on paper, even in stone, they all prove that she existed.
Because sometimes, very rarely, I am scared I am forgetting her, that she is just a part of my imagination, that sometimes aside from our family unit and occasionally other people who remember and speak of her, it can feel like she was never here.
These are the bad days, the days when it hits like I have lost her all over again.
As if it was all just a dream.
It has been far too long since I have seen her, and cuddled her.
Since I breathed in her smell, stroked her soft hair and kissed her tiny head.
Since I felt the warmth of her body against my skin, since I last told her I loved her.
Since I said goodbye.
Today is another of those, should have been days.
Yet instead today is just another day.
Another day without our little girl.
She was perfect,
her tiny little fingers,
her gorgeous little toes,
she had strawberry blonde hair,
and the cutest button nose.
She was so feisty during her 35 days,
my only wish is
that she could have stayed and played.
Our little Mayflower
Please don’t forget her.