After Jane passed, someone told me that they learned the best way to help someone grieving is to let them say the name of the one they lost. I have found this to be very true. Every opportunity I get to talk about Jane makes me smile. I feel happier and like 10 pounds of sadness was lifted from my shoulders. Others remembering her and saying her name has the same effect.
The further out we get in our grieving, the less and less I feel like I can talk about her. Like she is in past and it's too uncomfortable for others to bring her into the present. But she is MY present. She is my future. She is as much a part of my identity as my name is. Even more so actually, I can change my name. But I cannot ever change that Jane is my daughter.
Our mortal eyes may see this pregnant lady with two boys and think I am having my third child, but I am having my fourth. They may not see that I have already been blessed with a daughter, but I have. I have four kids; 3 sons and 1 daughter.
I am very fortunate to have many people in my life that let me talk about Jane in casual conversation. That when I talk about my children, or each pregnancy, each delivery, struggling with taking care of 3 kids, etc. they know that includes Jane. She is constantly on my mind and talking about her is just natural being her mom.
I have been more able to leave her out of our family count to passing strangers or in light-hearted conversations with people who don't know about her yet. It used to make me nauseous, my head spin and my skin would tingle when I was asked, "How many kids do you have?",
"Oh three boys! Maybe you will get a daughter next!",
"So you just have the two?"
Whenever I am hit with those comments now (and yes it feels like a punch), I am able to just respond "yep" and leave it at that. With Jane in the forefront of my brain during the whole interaction. It is sometimes not worth the immensely awkward bomb of, "I have a daughter. She died a year ago."
Thank you for letting me talk about her. Thank you for letting me keep this blog going so I have a place to share her with everyone. Thank you for not making me move on because the death of a baby is just too hard to talk and hear about. Thank you for asking me questions about Jane.
Most especially, thank you for having moments of letting her touch your heart. And when you feel appropriate sharing them with me. That is the greatest gift you can give me. Let her matter, let her change you for the better.
