The Conversation

A few months ago, my niece Mia ran up to me and put her hands on my tummy.  "Where is he?  Where is he?", she asked with twinkles in her eyes.  I was struck dumb.  What do I say?  My brother told her what happened, she knows he's dead...doesn't she?  I finally muttered, "I don't know...go blow your nose."  She smiled and ran off.
Recently, we were in my car where I have a photo of Owen hanging from my rearview mirror and I also have one of his sonogram pictures attached to the passenger sun visor.  When we lost Owen, I told my brother’s children (ages 14, 11, and 6) that they could ask me anything about him and what happened – I would always be straightforward and honest with them. 
Mia: what are those? *pointing to sonogram*
Me: those are from when he was still in my tummy.
Mia: oh, and then he came out?
Me: yes, and then he came out.
Mia: and he looked like that. *pointing to ohc picture*
Me: yes, and he looked like that.
Mia: and then he died...
I was stunned by her blunt statement.   Usually people avoid talking about Owen; I can see them become physically uncomfortable when I mention his name or my pregnancy.  She was just saying what was on her mind.  I respect her for that.  To be honest, it was a breath of fresh air to have this sort of conversation, even if it was with a six-year-old. 
Me: *stunned silence* yes, Mia, he died.
Mia: why didn't I get to see him when he came out?
Me: I thought it would be too sad for you. Did you want to see him?
Mia: yes, I wanted to see him, but they didn't let me.
Me: I'm sorry.
Mia: then he went up there, right? *pointing her tiny index finger skyward*
Me: yes, he went to heaven.
Mia: did you see him go?
Me: no, but we know that's where he went.
Mia: do you know why he passed away?
Me: no, we don't. I think it was just an accident.
Mia: what if you have another baby?
Me: what do you mean?
Mia: what's going to happen if you have another baby?
Me: then we'll have another baby and Owen will be a big brother.
Mia: I want you to have another baby.
Me: so do I, Mia.
Mia: I'm sorry he died.
Me: so am I.

It was as if we were talking about something completely different; shooting the breeze, chatting about school, not talking about my dead son.  I was amazed at how okay she was talking about this. She wasn't uncomfortable, she was fine.  She had questions and she wanted answers.  I wish more people were like her.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous5/09/2012

    Thanks Melly. I hope we will always be comfortable talking about sweet Owen. I want to talk to you about him. I love you guys dearly. Granny