I went to get the mail today after work. It was hot, because this is Texas and Texas is hot. The wife got a box and there was some spam. I flipped through the small stack, finding the bright Enfamil coupon for my toddler.
I don't have a toddler. But in a few days it'll be my birthday, and Emma would have shared it with me if the due date had been met. A year and 3 months ago, we went to one of those baby stores and registered for all the typical baby stuff on a Friday night after work. That Monday, for her start of the 3rd trimester ultrasound, there was no heart beat. My wife endured a C-Section and I had to choose a name for our unborn daughter's birth and death certificate. I carried Emma Louise Forslund to the room where she would lay until being taken to the morgue.
I'm glad the spam didn't have her name on it. It's not their fault we got on their database and they didn't know the bad news. Recently a friend received an ad for driver's education for their daughter. Who is special needs and will never need it. Getting that reminder in the mail, hits each of us differently. It hadn't dawned on m that I would be getting mail that would remind me of this loss. But there it is, in the recycling bin outside the house.
I like my birthday. Seeing friends, getting presents, eating cake. Last year, I didn't celebrate my birthday. It was a reminder of the one presence that wasn't there. We'd tried for five years and then a miracle happened and was taken away. This year, I'm having a party. The wife is arranging it. I expect I'll have a good time. This piece of spam is just another reminder that a special somebody couldn't be here to share it with.