Today I got triggered. I didn’t even see it coming. Since Ava died I’ve been asked no less than a dozen times about my children. It is never phrased quite the same but its usually something like, how many children do you have? or Do you have just one? or Are you going to have more? or Don’t you think Logan wants a sibling? Mind you, these aren’t questions from friends who know about Ava and are asking the informed question of if we are going to try again (which is another blog post and another topic entirely). These are the innocent questions from my patients or random strangers and acquaintances that most women, myself included, get asked every day. Typically I’m ok with these questions. I try not to take them personally because people mean well and I brush it off as simple naivety when they ask me. But today something just set me off.

Today it went like this, an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a long time saw me with Logan. She asked how old he was and then said, “getting to be time to have another?” This is usually where I take pause for a minute. There is never a good answer. The easy thing to say would be, “yes,” but I can’t bring myself to do it, because here’s what happens when I do. When I simply answer, “yes,” my head starts screaming the rest of the story and it won’t be quiet until I acknowledge my daughter’s existence. When I give a simple, “yes,” I spend the next few hours finishing the sentence. “Yes! It was time for more kids! And we tried and we did and she was perfect and beautiful and she died and I’m sorry every day that I failed her!” My head screams it over and over and I can’t focus and I can’t move on with my day. I cannot go on like everything is fine when I don’t acknowledge her existence. It’s the same reason that I can’t simply respond with, “no.”

A few weeks after Ava died an old friend who didn’t know what had happened asked Travis if we wanted more kids and he abruptly said, “no.” We were at a party and he didn’t want to be a downer, and it was his friend so I let him answer. I didn’t say anything but I was screaming our story in my head. It hurt me too much to hear him say no that now over four months later I still feel like calling that guy up and telling him about Ava. I cannot let people think that we don’t have another child because we simply don’t want one. That is even further from the truth. It is more of a lie than saying, “yes.”

A lot of times I respond with something like, “yes, we did have another baby and unfortunately she died.” This usually ends the conversation pretty quickly. The person will mumble condolences then find a reason, any reason, to get as far from me as possible. And then I feel bad. They were just trying to be friendly, just trying to make conversation with me. From the outside looking in, I imagine it looks like kind of an asshole move for me to make them feel bad for trying to talk to me. And like I said, most people don’t want to talk to me much after that so once again I become a leper, alone in my grief. None of these scenarios give me a great result. I either come off as a downer or jerk for mentioning my dead baby, or I deny my own truth in a desperate attempt for friendship. Neither option leaves me happy.

Today I tried the middle road, the in-between option. When she asked if it was time for more I didn’t really answer. I kind of just made some strange noise that sounded like, “ehhhh, I don’t know.” I thought maybe she would just let it go but she persisted, “not so sure, huh?” All I could say was, “we did but it didn’t end well.” I walked over to Travis and when she was far away I told him what had happened then said, “I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to make people feel like assholes.” A few minutes later she approached me again, this time apologizing profusely. She told me she didn’t realize who I was and she had heard what happened. Then she added that she had her own losses, “not as far along as you, but I’ve been there and I’m sorry.” She showed me her rainbow baby in an attempt to give me hope and show me that I could have another. This is a scenario I have experienced so many times since Ava was born. It is not unusual for people to apologize for my loss and to try to relate to me then give me some words of encouragement or hope. There was nothing different about this woman or her words or her baby but for some reason, she completely set me off and I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw my head back and yell, I didn’t have a fucking miscarriage! I had a baby. I gave birth to her. She was cut from my womb and kicked her feet and opened her mouth and tried to breathe. I’m sorry for your losses but don’t try to tell me you understand. You have no fucking idea because if you did you would never, ever, for the rest of your life ask a woman when she was going to have a baby or if she wanted to have a baby. You would know that the answer to that question is so unbelievably personal and complicated that even though you are trying to be friendly it is a horrible thing to ask a person you don’t know well. And I’m so happy to see you had another healthy baby but please don’t try to give me hope. You don’t know if I’ll be able to have any more, no one does, so seeing your miracle baby doesn’t give me hope for one of my own. Besides, maybe I don’t want to try again. Maybe I don’t have the strength, the energy, the desire, or the courage to put my family through any of that trauma again!  Of course, I said none of that. I think I kept telling her it was ok but I was also distracted trying to tend to Logan so I didn’t say much or make eye contact with her.  She ended it by awkwardly saying, “ok, I’m going to walk away now.”

It was awkward and painful and I tried to brush it off. Travis said he thought she heard me talking about her so that was why she came back over. I told him I really didn’t think she heard me. I honestly think she felt bad after our first conversation and then when she realized who I was she felt worse and felt the need to say something more. Besides, I didn’t say anything bad for her to overhear, but annoyingly enough I started to worry that maybe I did say something wrong. Maybe she did overhear me. Maybe I made her feel bad. I still feel guilty thinking about it. I don’t want people to feel bad for talking to me or for trying to be nice. She didn’t do anything wrong. If it were a different day I might have even enjoyed talking to her about it, but today was not that day. The more I think about it the worse I feel and this is the part that really enrages me. Why should I feel bad? Why should I care if I made her feel bad? She made me feel bad. I can continue going in circles like that until I lose my mind so it has to end.

I cannot live my life managing everyone else’s emotions because when I do that it is always to my own detriment, and quite frankly its exhausting. This whole stupid situation happened because I was trying to make everyone comfortable. I don’t want to mention my dead baby because heaven forbid I make someone feel uncomfortable for a minute or two! I should have answered her honestly when she asked the first time but I was so afraid of making things awkward that I just managed to make it worse. I need to realize the world is not going to implode if I don’t constantly exude sunshine and rainbows. I don’t have to hide my daughter like a shameful secret, nor do I need to explain myself to every person I meet. I think I just need more practice, and there’s no doubt that strangers and acquaintances alike will continue to ask their well-intentioned questions and provide me with ample opportunity to say, “yes, I had a daughter. Unfortunately, she died.”