How Many Children Do I Have?

I have a new job. I work at the DMV. I like it much better than my old job at Hyundai. I like the customer contact. I like the benefits.

I am in training. We are in training in Oceanside. It was a rather pleasant one hour drive. I got there in plenty of time, had breakfast at McDonald's where they had 79c 42 oz drinks. The employees in Oceanside were friendly and showed me the ropes. There are only three of us training now, Susan, Rosemarie and me. I work in the same office with Susan and Rosemarie, and we have had many superficial conversations in the last couple of weeks. I try to avoid the big conversations like "How many children do you have?"

Of course, I never thought this was a big conversation before Rachel died. The answer was simple "I have 3 girls". After John and I married, I added "and two sons". Our trainer, whose name is Debby, started out with "So, introduce yourself, are you single or married, how many children do you have, etc. " I started tearing up immediately, and damn it, I was the last to answer. Rosemarie is single, but has a long time-boyfriend, no children. Susan is married, with two boys, and I am.... Well, what am I?

By the time they got to me, I was full-fledged crying. I hadn't gotten to the point of sobbing yet, but they were all staring at me uncomfortably. I said, "My name is Libby and I am married. The reason why I am crying is because my oldest daughter passed away about one and a half years ago, and I still feel very "raw". I also have two other daughters and two stepsons, and a grandson, who is seven." Debby and Rosemarie were sympathetic, but Susan didn't look at me, which I found odd. We were all uncomfortable. They said the usual 'Oh, I am so sorry" and "I can't imagine what it is like to lose a child" I always feel like saying "No, you can't, and you don't want to imagine it". If they had asked, which they usually don't, I would say "It feels like the earth has opened up and swallowed you whole. Escaping from the grief, which happens in bits and pieces feels like clawing your way up to the top of the hole, and then having someone sucker-punch you and falling back down again. Sometimes, you crawl back up, only to be slugged down, and sometimes you just stay there and welcome the dark, dank, cold earth.

I no longer know what to say when someone asks "How many children do you have?" The truth is I have 6 children, one of them is dead, one is schizophrenic and will probably never return to the United States, one never lived with me and I barely know him, one (grandson) is being kept from me by his vindictive father and I am not allowed to see him. Can you blame me if I sometimes tell the casual questioner, " I have two girls."?

I collected myself, and it didn't take too long. It usually doesn't take too long. I now belong to the dead child club and I don't like it, but I have learned to "compartmentalize". There is a time (like this blog) to discuss it, and there is a time (work) not to. Sometimes, grief overwhelms, and there is nothing I can do. There aren't many of us in the club, thank God, and I would never ask anyone to join. The job requirements are tougher than any other, the benefits are non-existent, and the dues are way too high.