Ask anyone who has lost a loved one – grief creeps up at the most random times. It doesn’t matter how many months or years it has been, all it takes is one second for those memories and heartache to rush back. For me, all it took was an awkward moment to remind me that grief never goes away.
I was recently at a routine appointment. As the lady walked into the room, she smiled and said, “How are the kids?” I gave her a puzzled look, wondering if I heard her correctly. As a mother of one surviving triplet, I’m not used to hearing the plural form of “kid”. She repeated herself and that’s when I realized, she didn’t know that two of my children died.
My heart began to race and my breathing became faster as I explained that Abby and Parker had passed away within two months of being born. The tears erupted as my mind instantly flashed back to three years ago, when I said my final goodbyes to two of my children. The lady felt terrible and rushed up to hug me. As awkward as I felt, I know she must have been mortified. It was the epitome of a “foot in mouth” moment, and here I was, a grieving mother brought to tears.
I left the office in a daze, my mind stuck on that awkward dialogue. During the first year after my triplets were born, that was a common question. Some people weren’t aware that two of my babies had died and I often was asked how the triplets were doing. Because it’s been three years, this time caught me off guard. I assumed most people knew my situation, or if they didn’t, they thought Peyton was an only child. I may have been surprised by the conversation, but I wasn’t mad or upset. All it takes is a simple mention of my children to bring me to tears. That’s part of living life after loss: the grief never goes away. We may moved forward in life, but we never forget. I wear those tears with pride, a sign that a piece of my heart will always be with Abby and Parker.
There is no perfect handbook on how to grieve the loss of a child. The same goes for comforting a grieving parent. While a simple hug can go a long way, I was more comforted that day by how the conversation ended between me and the lady. After mentioning that I only had one survivor, the woman went on to ask about my two angels. She repeated their names as I told her about sweet Abby and her peaceful face. And she listened intently as I shared stories of Parker and Peyton in the Nicu. She asked about Peyton and I happily shared how strong and healthy she is today, a far cry from her Nicu days. I may have cried at my appointment, but I left that office with a full heart. As parents of child loss will tell you, one of the most comforting things people can do is to say your child’s name. Hearing the woman say “Abby” and “Parker” was a beautiful reminder that they existed and allowing me to share stories of them warmed my heart.
When I explain to people that my daughter is actually a triplet, their smile turns to shock, before a sad look takes over their face. It’s a common expression that I’m accustomed to seeing. A parent is not supposed to outlive their child, and when people realize that I’m the parent of two angels, it often becomes uncomfortable for them. Grief is a hard topic to talk about, especially the death of a child. The awkward encounter I faced is something so many of us parents of pregnancy and child loss experience and it’s something I know I will face often in my lifetime. While it can stir up emotions and memories that have been tucked away for years, there is something positive that can come out of it. I like to think that each time I’m asked about my children, it’s a sign from above. It’s Parker and Abby’s way of saying, “Hi Mom”, from heaven. And while the other person may feel uncomfortable, they are actually giving us the best gift of all: the gift of remembering and embracing our children who no longer here on earth.
So sorry, I have had foot to mouth problems before and felt about an inch high. She probably felt like an ant on the floor but I give you a big hug for handling it the way you did. She may not be following you like a lot of us but we love you and your family as if we are the best of friends and never have met you.
Wow! What a huge trial! I’m glad that even though the lady made a painful mistake for you, it turned into a healing moment. Thanks for sharing your experience.
I’m so sorry this happened. My parents lost a child when I was 7 years old. My sister lived 5 days and passed. I still to this day remember so much about her birth and death which will soon be 48 years ago. My Mom ran a day care in the town we live in and everyone knew her. I can still remember people asking where the “new one” was when we would be out and about in town. I’m sure this poor lady felt awful but you handled it so well. When your in the limelight you become part of everyone’s life’s. We all love you and your family! Thanks for sharing your lives with us! ❤️❤️????
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Hugs for you for Abbie, Parker, and Peyton : )
Hello Peyton! ????????
Sending you big hugs! It sounds like you handled this beautifully.
I can’t even imagine. I’ve never lost a child, but I did lose someone very close to me to suicide 7 years ago. To this day, something will catch me off guard and I’ll be a mess. Those who mourn much, loved much.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I haven’t experienced the loss of a child but I lost my mom suddenly a couple of years ago. Well over a year later someone from church asked me how she was doing. I guess they hadn’t heard she passed away and I just cried. I understand the little things that set you off when you don’t expect it. ????
So sorry that you had to pass this bump in the road, but I am certain that every thing that you overcome is making you stronger and even though there are tears, you are touching people’s lives with the very mention of your precious babies. I have experienced these moments first hand over the years with my mom. Losing my sister at the age of 3 months and 6 days old, she had to answer many questions about my sister. Many people think that I am an only child, because I lost my baby sister when I was 7 years old, but I always correct them that I have a sister in heaven and I love her dearly and I think about her everyday. The feeling of loss never completely goes away, but it does get easier with time. You are so blessed to have such a precious daughter in Miss Peyton and even more blessed to have 2 beautiful guardian angels. Tell Miss Peyton”hello” and encourage her as she grows up to always tell others about her brother and sister. Lord bless you all ????
I read this story on my Upworthy feed, and I had to comment because I had a very similar experience. A few weeks after my first child, Amelia, was born and died (for unexplained reasons), I went in for my postpartum appointment in a new city. Although I was new to the doctor/practice, I had written in big, bold letters, at the very top of my patient information form, “MY BABY DIED SHORTLY AFTER BIRTH.” Nevertheless, when the doctor finally breezed into the room, she asked “Why didn’t you bring the baby with you?” I instantly crumpled into that well of tears, grief and unreality in which I had been living; I couldn’t even speak. The doctor was clearly embarrassed, but covered it up with an officious look into my chart…FINALLY. That was 29 years ago, and although at that time I found her actions unforgivably careless and immediately left the practice, I have gradually crafted meaning out of my loss of Amelia, as you have clearly done with your losses also. It is so very true about hearing their names, and creating ways to remember them: I have three plates on the wall, one for each of my two subsequent wonderful children, and one for her. She was born and died in June, the butterfly month, and every year on her birthday I add a little something to my house that has a butterfly on it. Thank you for giving me another moment to remember Amelia.