As a single Mom of an angel son, who also chose not to have other children, many have met me at different stages of my life and do not know about the journey I have with Kendall, nor the love I will always carry for, and with, him. Some of these people pass through briefly and some are longer-term presences. Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to share my journey with an amazing human who was not around during the loss but who is a very important person in my life.
As any of you who have read my posts know, I am very open about my journey with Kendall and all that entails. I share almost everything and the same is true in 3-D real life. Yet, every single time I share, I wish no one had to know that babies die. I briefly hesitate because I sometimes simply do not want to be the one who bursts that bubble. But with adults, I choose to speak almost every single time. With kiddos, however, it is different. When they lose siblings or have a sibling that died before their birth, I am all about parents and loved ones sharing that truth. It is an important piece of their own family and a key piece of their parents’ parenting style and experience, so spoken or not, it is a huge part of their lives. And speaking it is always the best option, instead of hoping kiddos navigate it on their own.
But not all kiddos are siblings of lost little ones. Some are cousins, or aunts and uncles even. And those kiddos do not necessarily need to know that babies die. When my niece was 4 or 5 she saw my “Kendall & Me” box and asked what it was. So, I answered. I knew when the time was right she would ask and she did. It was a sad but direct chat and she was very matter of fact about it all. Her brother was an infant then. A few years later, I changed the box to reflect a more mature display, as a baby blue brightly painted box no longer reflected who Kendall would be, and a darker, plain treasure chest did. This shift was not intended to disguise the box, as it always is predominantly displayed in my home, but it did exactly that, so my nephew never asked.
Time goes on and there never seemed to be a natural time to say “Oh by the way, before you and your sister were born…” Yet, it felt unfair and secretive to not talk about it, since I am open about Kendall and because he and I are not only close but also similar. I realized there will never be a moment that feels natural, because although babies die far too often, there is nothing natural about the loss or the aftermath. So, I simply said I wanted to chat with him about something and the two of us walked the beach and talked. It was oddly easy, yet very emotional. Two empaths joined in a chat about deep loss and the gifts that have grown in the space created by loss. He was kind and sweet (as he always is), and I told him that I did not want him now to know babies die, never mind when he was little. But that I would never have been able to be the aunt I am if I had been raising a son on my own. He got it. He gets it. And it still sucks to have to share it.
What I realized through this chat and my experience in it, was that even though I was single and completely alone from a partner’s perspective, I have never been alone on this journey. Sure, I have experiences that no one knows about, but that is my choice not to share. But when it comes to who will listen or love me, I have never been alone in that. I have been blessed with kindnesses and gifts that others will never know. I am an aunt to the greatest kiddos on the planet and I get to do that in ways that no one else gets to. I am available for them in ways many aunts cannot be because they have their own living children they have to prioritize. I GET to be focused as an aunt with these two kiddos and I owe that to Kendall and the way I get to be his Mom.
- Sharing My Truth - August 27, 2019
- Giving Back - April 1, 2019
- One Day, It Will Feel Safe To Begin To Peek Out & Explore - February 18, 2019