We received (as I'm sure most, if not all, of you did) the U.S. Census paperwork in the mail this past week.
And there it was, that familiar pang of grief.
How many in your household? How many living in your place of residence? How many... ?
It should be such an easy question. It should be. But it's not.
The correct answer (for us) is two. But I'm tempted to respond three. I don't even know how many I'd be responding if Owen was alive. Three? Four? Five?
For their purposes, the government doesn't care about or count Hannah Mae.
It feels wrong not answering three. There are three of us living in our house. One of us just happens to be a baby, living in my womb. As I type, she's pushing her sweet little butt out. She is living here with us.
And sweet Owen... our son. The baby boy I carried and lived with for 36 weeks. I can't count him in the census. He's not here. He lives in a vastly different place. Chipmunk and Sunshine too...
Just another sucky reminder.