The postman rang the bell early this morning – around 8am – to say that I had a package. I wasn’t expecting anything but who doesn’t love a package, right?!
When I got pregnant with our first one, I eagerly signed up for all kinds of email updates that told me how fast our little one was growing, etc. Well, I had to unsubscribe myself from those email updates pretty shortly after because I miscarried. Oh how naive I was to think that I could sign up for all of those email alerts, parenting magazines, etc. My enthusiasm got the best of me. Never once did it cross my mind that I would have a miscarriage.
Back to this morning, I open the door to our apartment and there is a shoebox-sized box of infant formula. Are you kidding? Is it a joke? I realize that I’m approaching my estimated due date and so yes if I were having a baby in a month I would be interested but instead that baby is gone. My tummy is flat. My uterus is empty (actually, hopefully it has one or two sticky little embryos burrowing inside of me but you know what I mean). My arms will be empty on August 30. We won’t be going to the hospital. I won’t be in labor. My water won’t break. We aren’t making final preparations.
This sample of infant formula is one of life’s cruel jokes. A reminder of what I don’t have right now. A reminder of my daily struggle. A reminder of our loss – a little one who I will never hold anywhere but in my heart.
I should find out where I can donate baby formula. I’m sure that there is someone out there who needs it and I will gladly donate it instead of tossing it into the garbage. Any ideas?