But, no. She is not my first. She's actually my third. There are two that came before her. But, no one wants to hear about baby death. No stranger wants to be met with my reality when really all they want to hear is a young, exhausted mother happily speaking of the adorable newborn cooing in her arms. So, there I am met with a dilemma. Do I fake a smile and exchange small talk as to avoid the look of sadness and the stuttering of apologies from someone who doesn't know what their questions truly asks? In a society obsessed with babies, we are stricken with the stigma of silence when it comes to miscarriage and stillbirth. Do I smile meekly and quickly say "yes" as to avoid the awkward exchange, Or, do I tell the truth? Do I respond, "Actually, she's my third. We lost her brothers in 2017. But, they sent us a sister and we are so grateful"? I have chosen both responses. By saying "yes" I have caught myself in a panic of betrayal to my first two children. Guilt could quite literally choke the air from my lungs as I avoided making someone else feel uncomfortable. By saying "no" I am instantly sorry for making this person feel awkward. They quickly apologize and stumble on broken words. I watch as they flounder for the right thing to. I feel bad for making them feel like they do. I am swift to put to ease any of their fear and sympathies. I want to apologize for putting my heaviness onto their shoulders. I do not say that my rainbow is my first anymore, because she is not. I have carried two little boys in my womb. I have created tiny babies that carried the tell-tale family nose that so many have come to recognize as only belonging to my family. My rainbow is not my first. Logan came first. He was too small to survive outside of my body. A cruel joke it seemed since my body's ineptitude is why he was born. Just shy of 20 weeks he was born in panic in an ER. He was perfect. His life counts. Marek came next. We knew of my incompetent cervix and had taken all the medical precautions. Still, his heart stopped beating at 30 weeks and 1 day. He had a shock of strawberry blonde hair. He was perfect. His life counts. Third, came Nora. Our rainbow. Not my first, not even my second. But, my third. I do not say my rainbow is my first because she is not. Despite what you see, I have three children. One I hold in my arms, and two in my heart. So, when you ask your question and are met with the answer you were totally unprepared for, do not apologize. Do not fear that you brought up something that I wasn't already profoundly aware of. Trust me, you're not reminding me of a truth I have forgotten. It is an ache I feel every moment of every day. Instead, ask what their names are. Include them. This will bring more happiness to a loss momma's heart than you could possibly realize. |
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