Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Do You Have Any Kids?

Do you have any kids?

To most this is a very simple question.  It is either yes or no. 

For me, it's just mostly complex.

You would think I would have a response to this question already prepared so when I am asked I can just say something and it would be done.  But every time I am asked, it surprises me and I stumble not knowing how to find the words to encompass what I would like to portray. 

Do I have any kids?
Well, yes, I do.  However, he is no longer with me. 
If I would say this then maybe the assumption could be that he was taken away from me, which he was.  Or maybe he is now living with someone else, which he is not. 

Do I have any kids?
No, I don't. 
This response feels dirty to me.  I did have a kid and he was the sunshine of my life for 13 years.  He actually still is.  This response is not fair to Tyler and all that he was and what we were together.
There was one time when I actually did respond with a no.  I felt guilty and teared up about for weeks.  During my darker moments, I stll feel regret that I said no.  I felt like I betrayed Tyler and swore to myself that I would never do that again, no matter how awkward my response is.

Do I have any kids?
Yes, however, he passed away a couple of years ago. 
This is the response that I usually go with.  It hurts to say it every time.  It was harder to say when I had to switch the time from one year ago to a couple.  Ouch...that will always sting.  After it is said, there is a long pause because the other person is processing or trying to find words of comfort.  I usually just smile and say something like, "Don't worry about it, I am just thankful that I was his mommy." 

And I am.















16 comments:

  1. I am very sorry for you loss; you are, and always be his mom. Assuming we all have kids that pop out and grow old with us is just that - an assumption. In the last days of my brother's battle with cancer, nurses often asked, as they changed his IV or something, if he had any kids. The whole answer is that after many years of trying, we almost were there - and then cancer took that chance away. He always just answered - No - it's easier.

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  2. That was beautiful. I have a 13 year-old and your story made me cry. What a wonderful mother you are. Just remember, it's not an answer to make the other person feel good or not to make them awkward - it's your answer. Your in-your-heart-totally-in-love answer. Thank you for sharing that today, you really gave me something to think about.

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  3. Thank you for sharing. We don't realize how even simple, common questions can sting. I have a friend who tells people she has an angel in Heaven. I especially loved the hope in your response and last sentence.

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  4. To Tyler's mom (and my friend),
    this is one of my favorite slices ever, and I have read a lot of them. I think you have found the just-right thing to say, and I just want to thank you for sharing it with us.

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  5. I'm so sorry for your loss, and I appreciate your insights into how such a (seemingly) simple question can bring up such difficult feelings. What a hard thing. Thank you for sharing this.

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  6. I believe you will always be a mother and 'have' kids & of course that's just my answer instead of yours, but it seems like you want to answer, so that's what you should do! . It feels similar to the same question posed to my husband & I when we were childless, but trying to have children. People would say things like "aren't you going to have any kids?" And I sometimes was rendered speechless, & sometimes had an answer. But, I realize, this only had to do with me and my husband, not another. I hear the respect & love for your Tyler & that you want to keep him in the midst of you, not behind. Thank you for sharing his story, and your response.

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  7. You speak from the heart with this post. Your son will always be with you. I believe you have a lovely answer to inquiring people.

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  8. You post is beautiful! I love the comments above and am tearful now. Yes, sad, but more at the down-deep love you have for your son. He will always be cherished. Thank you for being so real and sharing a part of yourself. It does help me as I am at a loss of words and really genuinely want to share my appreciation for their (your) bravery in sharing. As I read through your posts, I see that his laugh brought you joy. May that joy bring you much happiness.
    Mary Helen

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  9. Thank you for sharing something so near and dear to your heart. You have the memories of Tyler, and everything about them is special. So sorry for the tears that come with them, but mothers never stop being mothers. Keep writing. Writing is the best medicine around.

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  10. Wow, what a powerful post. Thanks for having the courage to post and raise our awareness of how painful a simple question can be. I had a brother who died when he was 2 days old (he was older than me so I never knew him), and usually I tell people I'm an only child, because that's how I grew up, but when I get closer to people I'll tell them about him. My parents included him in a wooden decoration of our family (there's a little wooden doll for each person) that hangs in our house. A lot of times people don't know how to react when they are told or when they see the decoration. I love that you reassure people who don't know what to say by telling them that you are grateful you got to be his mom.

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  11. I can't begin to imagine how hard it must be when this question gets asked, but I think you have come up with the perfect response. I'm so sorry for your loss, but thank you for sharing your story.

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  12. Such a simple question, but not such a simple answer. I'm sorry for your loss. You are and will be Tyler's mom. Thank you for sharing your story.

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  13. Thank you for sharing your heartache. I have a sister who died at 5 years of age through a freak accident. She would have been 7 years older than I am. My mom, dad, and older siblings rarely spoke of her and it wasn't until I began making a slide show and photo album for my parents 50th anniversary that I learned of her birth date and death date. I was unsure of whether to include her. Would it be too painful? In the end I did and it brought tears all around. Hubby read a book when a friend lost his daughter and it said people are often afraid of bringing up the loved one that has been lost. But, it isn't as though our friend is going to say, "Darn, I'd almost forgotten about her until you reminded me." Your son lived. You are a mom - then, now, and forever.

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  14. I can't even imagine trying to answer this question. And I think your response is perfect.
    For many years, before I adopted my boys, and when I desperately wanted children, I would tell people that I had thousands of children, the kids I taught, but that they went home with other people at night…Thank you for a beautiful, beautiful piece.

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  15. My heart aches for the guilt you felt over that one-time response. It was a necessary response, I think, necessary for you to know in the deepest part of your being that it is not the true answer. You are a mom. You will always have a son.

    Thank you for being so brave and open. Your words have certainly made me think twice about the answers I expect when I toss queries into the world.

    The world is a better place for those thirteen years of life you guided through this world. You will always own that.

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  16. Thank you for writing for-real. Thank you for sharing this little piece of your story that is such a big, meaningful part of who you are. It's the tiny details -- the sting of innocent questions, the guilt of "easy responses" the just-trying-to-get-it-right-each-day -- that really mean the most. Thank you for being a brave, beautiful writer.
    Ruth

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