I thought I had a plan. I was going to give birth at the end of March. Which would give me a month and a bit to recover, so that I could plant a (smaller) garden. Veggies to use for baby food.I would spend the summer outside, playing with you. We were going to the zoo, to The Carrot, Fort Edmonton Park, to the river valley for walks with the dogs. We would play. We would do some travelling with your dad, when he had to work out of town this summer. I bought a bassinet for when I gardened. It would be an idyllic year.
And then, at the end of the summer, when things turned into fall, I would see the end of this decade of my life, and welcome the next, with you by my side. I would enter my 30's as a mum. Your mum. I would be changed from a girl to a woman.
I pictured a birthday party, with you. A birthday gift, from you. I pictured your father plotting and scheming what you would buy me. You were going to be here. Last year, at work, they had cake for the birthday of the new mum. This year, it will just be cake for me, and no one remembers you. I will accept every one's wishes, their hugs, their congratulations. My oldest friends will ,perhaps, tell me how proud they are of me, and perhaps, if they are feeling particularly kind and expansive, they will tell me that I am growing into the remarkable woman I have always wanted to be - a woman who is kind and thoughtful and passionate and strong. And maybe I am. Because of you.
And I will be 30 on Saturday.
Without you.
