A Hard Question

With tears dripping down her cheeks, she asked how I handle the question of how many children I have. After hearing from many people after the death of a child, this appears to be the one of the most challenging questions among these parents.

“How many children do you have?” Who would imagine such a basic, getting-acquainted question could knock someone off their feet? 

Only someone who has lost a child.

Navigating the death of a child—living life after such a loss—is complicated. The emotions are too many for these pages. Strangers don’t mean any harm, but the questions still hurt. 

Asking how many children one has is a common way to become acquainted with someone. When your children are all living, the answer is straightforward. However, as with everything else, it changes after a death.

For me (this is an important distinction since there is no right or wrong answer), I have six children. I had six children before my son died and I still have six. The fact of his passing does not take away the fact of his being my son.

I would never deny his existence for anyone. For me, it is that basic. I will never say I have five children.

However, it’s not that simple for everyone. The question itself seems easy, but it becomes more complicated with follow-up questions.

How old are they? And if they are adults . . . “Where do they live?” “Do they have children?”

This becomes uncomfortable because if I tell the person I have six children and I those questions follow; it leads to an uncomfortable conversation for all involved.

If I think I will never meet this individual again, I might just give ambiguous responses. However, if I suspect I will establish a relationship with them or see them regularly, I jump in with the full answers to prevent awkwardness in the future.

For many, though, it is painful to explain something that is inconceivable to comprehend, let alone tell others about . . . and that is perfectly fine. It is a personal choice and one that needs to be respected.

Grief is unpredictable and often hits when least expected. You may be years out from the death when that question comes at you, and suddenly it seems like yesterday you stood at the gravesite saying goodbye. It could be a gut punch.

Today’s response might sound very different from what comes out tomorrow. That is grief in a nutshell. Different moment by moment.

Certainly, I would never know this had I not experienced it for myself. Have I ever been the one asking the question? I am sure of it. Did the light ever go out of someone’s eyes as they contemplated the response to give? Perhaps. I hope I showed love and offered kindness. But maybe I missed the shadow crossing their face. I hope not.

How many children do you have? It is an innocent question, and we will continue to ask it. That’s okay. But if you notice a shifting or hear a hesitation, give grace. This may be a moment that breaks a heart.

To my new friend who asked me how I handle it, I shared my heart for what works for me, but explained she will discover what works for her.

No judgment in grief!