Due dates
I am a gal who adores a plan. And due dates are sort of a plan, aren’t they? (Admittedly not a very good plan, most babies aren’t born on their due dates which is not a level of punctuality I admire, but thats by-the-by.) The first three times I was pregnant I was petrified, and honestly, I don’t remember calculating due dates. They certainly didn’t get entered into my calendar with a baby emoji. I didn’t connect with those pregnancies in any sort of way.
But on the 14th August last year, I had my first positive pregnancy test that I was thrilled about. And instantly, I knew that baby. Instantly I worked out her due date. 21st April 2022. The plan was to carry that baby until the week before my own birthday. Until tomorrow.
I found out at 5.45 am, in a bathroom in a cottage nestled in the hills of the Brecon Beacons. It was the day before my sister’s 30th birthday and the day after I’d drunk a lot of red wine. I remember dancing in the kitchen while we cooked breakfast, and saying to Alex “I have literally everything I’ve ever wanted”.
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I started bleeding a few hours later, but somehow, I already knew that baby. We called her Rosie, after the rose bush we’d bought that day, the rose bush I insisted we buy because I knew I needed something tangible of that pregnancy. Of course, I can’t confirm with you that she was a girl at all, or anything about her. When I bled she would’ve been no bigger than a sesame seed. Tiny. But on some level, deep within me, I knew her.
In my mind’s eye, Rosie is quiet, sensitive. Not like her little sister Maris who from the moment I found out about her reminded me of my younger sister Victoria as a child; a tomboy with messy hair and scuffed knees. No, Rosie is gentle, like my goddaughter Izzy. She’s full of emotions like her mama and, I think, like her brother Robin, a boy who would’ve been consumed with Lego had he made it to whenever kids are allowed Lego (3? Seems reasonable.)
None of them made it past 6 weeks and 3 days. I got to keep Robin in my belly for a little while longer, but none of them grew past 6 weeks and 3 days. But the moment I knew about them, I knew them. I loved them.
The plan was never to let them go before the due date, but we had always planned to celebrate their birthdays. And so tomorrow, on Rosie’s due date, her dad and I will celebrate her. Our loved little girl.
