Hello, friends. It's been a while, and I apologize. I went on a painting spree in the house, redoing two bedrooms (one to go), which kept me busy for a while, but for the last week I've done very little. With anything. I'm just undermotivated in the extreme. However! It has gotten bizarrely warm in these parts (hello global warming! welcome to Vermont!) and I just started to get some outdoor gardening done today. Nothing beats dirt under the nails to keep me (wait for it) grounded. ba-dump ching!
So, in the last three days I've had to confront variations on the same question three times -- twice today alone, which frankly about kicked my ass. The question? "How many kids do you have?" Now, the answer is obvious -- even I can count to one -- but when it's couched in a "Hey! Haven't seen you in ages! Whatcha been up to?" kind of conversation... well.
I've been trying to teach Sarah that Jane will always be a part of our family; she's not with us anymore, but that doesn't mean she isn't her sister any more, or my daughter, or a cousin or granddaughter or niece. But when a stranger or friendly acquaintance making small talk asks about my family, it doesn't feel appropriate to bring her up. Which doesn't entirely sit well with me, but I'm not about to volunteer the whole "Well, I had two daughters but one died" thing in a casual conversation.
I don't know. I mean, obviously, I say that I have one kid, that Sarah's an only child, but it's not quite accurate, is it? Maybe I'm still too close to it to have a grasp on the social niceties. Or maybe we've gotten so far away as a society from being comfortable with talking about death that I have no vocabulary for discussing it. I'm stuck.
So, this is one of the crappier days, in a somewhat crappy week. Oh, and we got an invite from the Boston hospital to attend their annual memorial service. Um, no thank you?
Okay, so can those of you with mad etiquette skillz just give me a holler and tell me how to handle this stuff? I'm tapped.
10 comments:
I attended a support group for pregnancy/infant loss, and one of the facilitators talked to us about this issue. Whether or not you talk about Jane to a stranger/casual acquaintance, you are honoring her no matter what. You don't have to put your heart out there to people who casually ask these questions (and have no clue what you've been through)-- it's just too hard.
But I know exactly what you mean. People sometimes ask me if I have kids, and I just say no. And it kills me every time.
Whatever answer you feel is right at that moment is the perfect one.
Tia, those are some good questions. Thinking as the person you would be talking to, I am thinking if someone said the truth to me and I didn't know them that well - I would feel stuck finding something to say back that didn't feel insensitive. I would probably say something weird because I was nervous and scare you away. Yet, I got to say - I am finding honesty so refreshing these days. it's exhausting trying to figure out what you can or cannot say in certain social environments. Simply exhausting. One time a gentleman said to me, when I asked him ho wmany kids he had because he was talking about his kids, "I had 4 children, but one passed away. But my three sons are 'name', 'name, and 'name'" I got the point, said I was sorry to hear that and we kept on talking. Maggie
Shit, Erica. It's just awful, isn't it? The casual, accidental cruelty of every day life. I'm sorry.
Thanks, Tasha and Maggie.
Surely there is no one rule. Its nice when we can help people stay in their comfort zones, but the main thing is for you to always know that Jane was here, and should you feel like talking about her - in any given situation - the world is better off for that.
This is heartbreaking, Tia. I second Cindy's comment. While some people might not know what to say, I think they will still be grateful for your honesty and forever changed by it. And Jane will have touched yet another someone. The "Forget Me Nots" from Jane's memorial service have found their way to the upper midwest where they are poking through the dirt already. A little "Jane's garden" on a little horse farm in Wisconsin.
Oh Tia, this is a cruddy situation for sure. Erica my heart breaks for you that you feel you can't claim your child/ren. Somedays you may feel able to share and others may not lend themselves to the open and frank discussion of your loss. Sarah may help on occassions and tell of her awesome sister Jane leaving you the opportunity to share your experience. What I do know is that I seem to share more often than not and I have found more healing in the sharing than in managing others fears and keeping quiet about loss. We have seen the power of Jane let her be the guide. As always prayers of strength and healing to you all.
These are really thoughtful comments from everyone. Tia, I think you just need to trust your gut and take this on a case by case basis. I've confided in many people about my pregnancy loss over the past year. But sometimes if the subject about kids comes up in a casual way and I don't feel comfortable talking about my loss, I don't.
So, my brother died very suddenly a few years ago. One of my co-workers is really superficial and only half-hears things (we have work place disputes due to this fairly often). In the case of my brother, he half heard that he'd had a cerebral hemorrhage and missed the part where he was declared brain dead and taken off the respirator. So, every so often, this co-worker "bonds" with me by passing me in the hall and shouting out, "Hey, how's your brother?"
The first time he did this - about a week after I'd returned to work - I was too stunned to have an answer, so I just said "He's fine."
And you know what? That's still my answer. My brother IS fine (just, you know, sadly not alive, but co-worker doesn't need to know that), and that's my story. I'm sticking to it. You only owe yourself an explanation. Do what feels right to you.
When I lost my first child to a pre-term delivery, my doctor addressed this issue. She said this experience would change my family map, that my son was now part of the tree. She said that if we went on to have a(nother) child, we would not be a family of 3, but a family of 4. Just having lost one. Still, I don't share this with others very often. It feels personal. Go with your gut.
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