I just got a call yesterday from a friend who is pregnant with what we hope to be her rainbow. She had an ultrasound and found out her due date. She's due on June 17.
Carpenter's due date.
I'll be honest. It slapped me across the face. As if sensing my grief, my phone dropped signal, and I was left alone.
June 17. It was supposed to be the day I held a crying baby boy in my arms.
This year, on his due date, I was going to make a huge deal. We were going to do so many things to celebrate our son's short life. I felt the worst for Mike, since this would also be his second Father's Day. Of course, life's curve ball surprised us with some extended-family drama. A few people decided to make sure the spotlight was on them that day.
Our big day was overshadowed.
But we did do a few special things, just for us. I had bought Mike something special for his first Indian's game coming up soon, and we had bought a tree to plant in my parents' yard.
We realized that day that June 17th may have been a big deal for us, but it probably wouldn't be for many people. It was really hard for me to accept, but we saw then that birthdays, due dates, anniversaries, memorial events--they would probably be private events, just for our little family.
And that's okay.
Because I know that the people who loved Carpenter the most will always remember him. Those that never left his side--they will help us celebrate his life. And that is exactly how it should be.
Remembering what's really important--remembering our Carpenter...this is my grief.
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