As a Parent Who Has Experienced the Loss of a Child, This Is the Question I Fear Most

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I never anticipated that an ordinary Sunday would turn my world upside down. But grief has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, even years later.

During our usual grocery store trip, my surviving triplet, Lily, and I were picking up our weekly essentials. After we checked out, Lily darted toward the horse ride that all kids love. While we waited in line, her friendly spirit led her to strike up a conversation with the family ahead of us. “Are you guys siblings?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied the warm-hearted mother.

Then came the million-dollar question — the one I dread the most: “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Before I could utter the word “no,” Lily proudly chimed in, “Yes! I have Jamie and Ella.”

How is it even possible for a heart to feel both pride and profound sadness at the same time? I nodded along with her, knowing that she does have a brother and sister, but unlike the kids in front of us, Jamie and Ella are in heaven.

Our home is filled with reminders of our triplets — from photos of Jamie and Ella alongside their miracle sister, Lily, to shadow boxes in her room containing little footprints and keepsakes, the few tangible memories of our beautiful children.

While the triplets shared a womb, they never got to share life together. Our daughter, Ella, passed shortly after birth, while Jamie fought valiantly in the NICU for nearly two months before succumbing to his challenges.

Over the years, I’ve grappled with how to navigate life as a parent to both living and lost children. It’s a delicate balance between mourning the children I’ll never see grow up and celebrating the joy of the child who did survive. There’s no manual for parenting when some of your kids aren’t here.

I often find myself in a quandary about how much of my story to reveal. If a stranger asks about my child, I sometimes choose to leave out the mention of my heavenly children. I love all three of my triplets, but society can be uncomfortable discussing child loss. A single mention of Jamie and Ella usually elicits pity, followed by awkward silences as the stranger hastily walks away.

That day in the grocery store, I did what I typically do: I engaged in light conversation without bringing up my other two children. But something extraordinary happened. For the first time in Lily’s life, she spoke about her siblings completely on her own. It became clear she understands that Jamie and Ella are her guardian angels watching over her from above, even while she knows how special she is here on Earth.

The friendly lady smiled at Lily’s response and then turned to me, saying, “How lovely! So the other kids must be at home with Dad.” I nodded and smiled as they walked away, realizing sometimes silence is the easier route.

Once we reached the car, the tears began to flow. I kissed Lily’s forehead, her bright eyes full of joy and innocence. The road ahead will be challenging as she grows and asks questions about her siblings and her survival. But in that moment, I was filled with love. Parenting is the toughest job, yet thanks to that grocery store encounter, I know I’m doing my best. If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this blog post for valuable insights.

In summary, navigating the complexities of parenting after loss can be both heart-wrenching and rewarding. It’s vital to embrace the joy of the living while lovingly remembering those who are gone.