8th October was the due date I was given for Effy-Mae to arrive.

I know that it might not have been the date she finally arrived, but it’s all I have, all I know.

I’ll never know when nature would have delivered her to me if things had gone differently, so it’s the date I hold on to, the date I use to judge how old she should be if things had gone differently.

Today my daughter should be one. It should be her first birthday. An occasion for family to gather to celebrate with cake and presents. She should be toddling around, babbling to her family, enjoying her day.

Instead my body didn’t keep her alive and growing for the 9 months it was meant to. I was induced and delivered her asleep, far too early, her tiny body the final size it would ever grow, never to walk, talk, laugh and love.

And it seems like everyone, even her dad, has forgotten, has forgotten her.

I don’t know how to deal with this any more.

If she hadn’t died I wouldn’t have my son, born two months ago. He was conceived a month after her due date (although maybe biologically possible extremely unlikely) I wouldn’t give him up for anything, but I would give anything to have her back.

Today should be a happy occasion, instead, with everything that has happened, I am left confused about what to think or feel.

All that is left to say is Happy (should have been) Birthday to my gorgeous daughter.