I was asked for the thousandth time… “Awe how old is your daughter now?”
Me: She will be two in September.
Him: Oh right on, when are you going to have number two.
Me: Haha One day.
Me silently inside: “We already have two daughters.”
As a parent of loss.
I tell our story and I speak openly about it.
I speak openly about it, online.
Not everyone reads it.
Not everyone gets the chance to feel our every struggle, our every heartache, nor gets to experience the hurt within our eyes.
Still to this day I don’t know what to say when people ask “when are you having more kids.”
When Chad and I got married that was the first question that people always asked:
“When are you having kids?”
I wrote an entire post about our previous struggles, which I will link here in case you feel like journeying with us further. Having Kids
That, is such an open-ended question.
It’s a question that I wish, from one human to another… that no one would ever ask.
YOU, have no RIGHT to know anything about anyone else’s family planning.
Wait for the announcement and call it… fucking good.
I say this specifically because I am a Mom who struggled.
I say this because we are a couple who struggled.
And now sadly, I say this because I am a mom of loss.
We tried for years to get pregnant with our sweet Oakley and we had numerous questions, accusations, parenting and marital shame directly surrounding that open-ended question.
When we finally got pregnant with Oaks, I felt relief.
I felt relief that people would stop freaking asking me, when, who, why and how.
I cared at the time.
I cared about judgement, criticism, and being the modern-day family.
Now, to be blunt… I don’t give a fuck.
I was the mom who had an infant and got pregnant again…after having one singular period.
I was the mom who was going to have two children under two.
I was the mom who asked questions on “Mom Sites” about how to manage two kids in the grocery store.
I was the mom who got judged because I was pregnant while I had an infant in my arms.
Now I am the Mom that feels as though everyone looks at as being; unorganized, overweight and unmanageable.
I am a wreck.
And it’s okay.
Grief is a personal thing.
As a woman who struggled with infertility all you hope for, is the blessing of having another baby.
And when you see a positive sign, you get enlightened.
No protection ever, when it finally happens, it happens.
And then, when you go through 39+ weeks of pregnancy and don’t get to hear your baby cry, you get reborn.
The silence of your baby, makes you process things in ways you never thought imaginable.
You seriously stop giving a flying fuck about what anyone thinks of you.
You raise your baby, your animals and your household with a whole new perspective.
We know, life goes on.
We get it.
But when you ask us, “how we are doing?” and we respond, “good”…just leave it at that.
We aren’t good.
But one day we will be.
We will eventually find our new normal and be there for everyone and be able to answer all of the questions but for now…
We are “good”, we have two daughters, we will have another baby when it happens, yes we want more kids, no Chad is not disappointed by only having girls, yes we think of Willa everyday, we Do cry and yes Oakley will know every single thing about her little sissy.
“A Childs a child and love is love, but I’ll always be broken because. I never got to see your face a short time before you went away. I wonder what have might have been but I know one day we’ll meet again. We’ll never be too far away oh’ my Willa Hain”
ps. “If we could go and change gods plan, we would have watched those eyes of yours open, catch you on your hardest falls and be the hand right there for you to hold but like a little bird you had to fly away,
Oh my Willa Hain.”