When my husband and I were driving home from the hospital after the birth of our fourth child, I found myself grappling with a profound question: “How do we respond when people ask how many kids we have?” My husband thoughtfully replied, “We only have three. We only have three here with us.” This sentiment remains true, even more than two years later. We have three children with us on Earth, living vibrant lives in our home. Our son, Luke, was once alive within me but lost his heartbeat unexpectedly. We cradled him in our arms for four precious hours, yet he is no longer physically present in our lives.
For many parents who have experienced the loss of a child, the question “How many children do you have?” can be heart-wrenching. It is a seemingly innocuous inquiry that one might pose to a neighbor, a fellow parent, or even a stranger at the grocery store. For a long time, I struggled to find the right answer to this question. Other parents who have faced similar losses encouraged me to speak Luke’s name and to acknowledge that I have four children, in order to honor his memory. Many of them advocate for including lost children in the “kid count,” suggesting that failing to do so is a disservice to their memory.
However, I have a differing perspective. After we lost our son, we relocated from Colorado back to our home state of Montana, entering a new community filled with unfamiliar faces. Our oldest daughter was starting kindergarten in a new school, and each day presented opportunities to meet new people—kind, friendly individuals who could potentially become friends. I pondered how to respond to the inevitable question, “How many kids do you have?” I wanted to be strong and assertive, declaring, “I have three daughters and one son, but our son passed away.” I believed that honoring Luke’s existence was paramount, even if it made others uncomfortable.
Yet, each time I attempted to share his name, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. I stood before strangers, crying and grieving, compelled to provide an answer that had been encouraged by others. This approach transformed what could have been lighthearted encounters into painful reminders of my loss. Those who asked the question were confronted with my grief, and I imagined them later thinking, “I met this woman at the park and asked how many kids she had—she just broke down.”
Ultimately, I decided that Luke’s name is too precious to be tied to feelings of guilt or pity. I choose to share his story only when I feel a safe connection with someone, allowing me to honor him without burdening others with my grief. When a relationship is established, I can speak about him in a loving context, surrounded by understanding and compassion.
At this moment, we do not have Luke with us. We have three daughters who are very much present in our lives. Therefore, providing the answer “three” feels accurate and honest. In the future, I may choose to share more about Luke, depending on the circumstances and my emotional state.
I also approach the question of how many children others have with sensitivity. I recognize that this inquiry can elicit complex responses, and it’s important to allow individuals to share their stories as they see fit.
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In summary, navigating the question of how many children one has can be fraught with emotion for parents who have lost a child. The decision to include or exclude that child in conversations with new acquaintances is deeply personal and depends on the context of each relationship. The focus should remain on what feels right for the individual, allowing for a respectful and compassionate dialogue.
Keyphrase: Emotional Impact of Child Loss
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