I never anticipated that an ordinary Sunday could turn my world upside down. Yet, that’s the nature of grief — it strikes when you least expect it, sometimes years later.
My surviving triplet and I were at the grocery store, going through our usual routine of picking up essentials. After we’d finished at the checkout, my daughter raced over to the toy horse, a beloved free ride for countless kids. While we waited in line, she struck up a conversation with the family ahead of us, curiously asking if their children were siblings.
“Yes,” the warm-hearted mother replied.
Then came the question I dread the most.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” the lady inquired.
As I opened my mouth to say “no,” my daughter’s gentle voice interjected confidently, “Yes! I have Lucas and Mia.”
It’s remarkable how a heart can feel both pride and profound sadness simultaneously. I nodded as my emotions swirled. Yes, she does have siblings, but unlike the family before us, her brother and sister are in heaven.
Our home bears witness to our triplets — framed photographs of baby Mia and baby Lucas sit alongside images of our miracle child, Lily. Shadow boxes in Lily’s room hold tiny footprints and keepsakes, remnants of our cherished children.
While they shared a womb, Lucas and Mia never got the chance to live alongside their sister. Lucas fought valiantly for nearly two months in the NICU, but ultimately, his fragile body couldn’t withstand the challenges. Mia, too, passed shortly after birth.
Navigating life with children both here and in heaven is a complex journey. It’s challenging to grieve for the children you’ll never see grow up while celebrating the joy of the child who is here with you. There’s no manual for parenting when some of your children are no longer alive.
I often find myself pondering how much of this story to share. When a stranger asks about my child, it can feel easier to gloss over my children in heaven. I love all three of my triplets, but society often finds the topic of child loss uncomfortable. A mention of Mia and Lucas often evokes sympathetic glances and apologies, leaving me teary-eyed as the stranger walks away.
On this particular Sunday, I did what I typically do: I engaged in small talk without mentioning my other two children. But that day held a surprising moment. For the first time in Lily’s 3 ½ years, she spoke about her siblings without my prompting. We often discuss how fortunate she is to have guardian angels in heaven, while ensuring she understands her special place here on Earth. Yet, I hadn’t realized the depth of her understanding until that moment at the grocery store.
The kind lady smiled as Lily shared her thoughts and then turned to me, saying, “That’s wonderful! So your other kids must be at home with Dad.” I simply nodded and smiled as they walked away. Sometimes, silence is the easier path.
I managed to hold back my tears until I reached the car, where they began to well up. I kissed Lily’s forehead as I buckled her in, her joyful eyes full of innocence. As she grows older, the conversations about her siblings will become more complex, but in that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of love. Parenting is one of life’s toughest jobs, but thanks to that grocery store encounter, I know I’m doing my best.
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In summary, the experience of navigating life as a parent who has faced loss can be both challenging and rewarding. Every moment, even the unexpected ones, can bring opportunities for connection and understanding.