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I recently started a Community Education class with my two-year-old. It's a non-separating class, where the moms and children play together upon arrival, children enjoy snack time, parents then sit off to the side of the room for discussion while children play, then parents and children reconvene for a final circle time. I love the class because I simply adore my two-year-old. I love watching her interact with her teachers, grab book after book for me to read, and simply explore the room. My two older children call it "baby school." They get so excited for N every Wednesday, "baby school day", and they ask her about her baby friends.
But, the class is also emotionally draining for me. So far, I've dodged the "how many children do you have" question, but I know it's coming. It's as if I'm walking in a land mine, trying to steer clear of any conversation that involves pregnancy, babies, or how to juggle multiple children. I'm typically a rather outgoing, gregarious person. Not now. Now, I say as little as possible so I'm not expected to be a regularly contributing commenter. But, I say just enough so that I don't get the "You've been quiet. What do you think?" It's an impossible balancing act.
Yesterday, in a different setting, I was asked "How many children do you have?" I know I got a deer in the headlights sort of look on my face as I blankly looked at the group of four other moms, a few of whom I'd never met. One, whom I've met a handful of times, said "You have three, right?" as she proceeded to name my children. I quietly said "I have four." She said, "Oh, you have another older child?" (She could clearly see two of my children were with me and she knew I had a first-grader at school. And, I obviously didn't have a baby with me.) I responded, still with the deer in the headlights trance, "I am sorry. I haven't figured out a nice way to answer this question. I have four children. My baby girl was stillborn in November."
I never want to deny or ignore E's life. She is my child. I miss her. I love her.
I don't worry so much about making people uncomfortable by talking about E. But, I haven't figured out a way to answer the BIG question without falling apart.
2.04.2009
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7 comments:
I have no answer, and really haven't been faced with this particular situation since we lost the babies. But I know its coming, and I'm terrified. I really hope someone else can share how they handle this situation - I'll be checking back! In the meantime, all I can say is I'm sorry we're even having to figure this out. ((Hugs))
I have no answer either. I have pretty much avoided this question. And you would think I would have a prepared answer by now but I don't. I have read another blogger that would say "I have 3 at home with me".
I know exactly what you mean and I only have one here and one in heaven and many times people are like, "you only have one child?"!!! and what do you say, no, actually, i recently had a baby and he DIED!!! "This is so hard!" Sending my love to you-
I don't think there is ever a right time for full disclosure. Partial or no disclosure sucks because I feel guilty for betraying Janaki, denying her existence, and essentially not counting her as our firstborn, which she is. But who do you tell? The random stranger in the elevator? The checkout operator? A curious client on the phone? I can never guess. I've attempted disclosure before, with disastrous results. Its shitty, really. The method I'd probably feel most comfortable with IF/WHEN I have a live child is "I have a son/daughter, and our baby girl died in 2007".
xx
When people ask "Do you have any children", I always answer "Three: Our twins, Nicholas and Sophia, and our youngest, Alexander." I try to leave it at that. But if they push and ask how old they are, where they are, etc., as gently as I can, I say that they were all born premature and only lived on earth for a little while. Like you, I can't deny them. They mean too much. I love them too much. They matter too much. People sometimes get freaked out. Other times people engage me into conversation about them. I figure, no matter which way they lean, I owe it to my children to give them a life, even if it is just in my memories and engagements.
I am sorry. Honestly, as I sit here, I struggle to find the words because I know really, there are none. I am thinking of you as you make this journey. Sending much love and many hugs.
I am so sorry you had to deal with this. I just had this happen last week at the library, "Is she your only child, have any more at home?" I just kindly looked at her, and said, "She is my only living child"...
Hugs to you mama!
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