The Hardest Question

"So, you have any kids?"

I froze.  Five seconds ago I was laughing and drinking wine and hoping my flight wouldn't be delayed any longer, and then it was like the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe or think or speak.

Earlier this month I was in New York for work.  It was the first time I saw many of my vendors, and they were wonderfully supportive.  It was a great trip, and I actually found myself enjoying the city for once.  Naturally, the salad days never last.  I got to the airport and my flight was delayed an hour.  Then another hour and a half.  So now I had four hours to kill.  I grabbed a seat at the bar and ran into an old co-worker from a previous job.  We caught up and had a great time, and I was able to be someone besides the woman who lost her baby.  An old vendor of his showed up, and we started chatting.  And that's when he asked me.

This is the thing that I never thought about before it happened to me.  It's a simple question.  But is it? I have no simple answer or solution to anything anymore.  The most basic of questions can no longer have an easy answer.

I stared at him for a moment, and then I finally said, "Um, I'm sorry.  I just...I just went through a stillbirth six weeks ago and I don't know what to say.  I guess, I did - I do have a daughter.  Sorry, you're the first person who has asked me and I'm not prepared to answer it."

He looked at me for a second and said, "No, you do have a daughter.  You're right."

And I felt vindicated and validated.  And then today I had someone else say casually, "So, do you have any kids?"  And I said no.  Because I was in a room of four other people, and I didn't want to make her feel bad, and I didn't want to get into it.  So I said no.  And I didn't do it because I'm ashamed or embarrassed or I want to forget my beautiful baby girl.  I did it because it was easy and I didn't want to deal with the sad eyes and sympathetic head tilt.

I keep hearing that "No one can parent your dead child better than you can."  I just don't know.  We're in an odd spot, we parents of the dead.  We are shepherds with no sheep, teachers with no students, artists with no canvas.  I don't think anyone can honor my child better than I can, but unfortunately my role as an active parent was as short as her all too brief life.  I am a parent, and a mother, but what can I do without my child here to execute it?  I live it every day in my soul and heart and mind, but I yearn to live it in experiences and tangible moments with my baby.

So, do I have any children?  Yes, I do.  I have a beautiful daughter.  But the answer really isn't as simple as that, is it?  It will never be simple again.