As we drove home from the hospital after the birth of our fourth child, a son named Max, I turned to my partner and asked, “What should we say when people ask how many kids we have?” He paused, reflecting deeply, before replying, “We have three. We only have three with us.”
That statement still rings true two years later. We have three children here on Earth, in our home, laughing in the living room, and singing in the car. Max was once alive inside me, only to lose his heartbeat just a day later. He weighed a delicate 3 pounds, 2 ounces when we held him for the first and last time. After four hours, his little body was taken away, and we were left with an unfillable void.
For many parents who have experienced the loss of a child, a seemingly harmless question like “How many kids do you have?” becomes a source of heartache. It’s a question often posed by new acquaintances—a neighbor, a fellow parent at school, or even a stranger in the grocery store, and it’s so commonplace that it often catches you off guard.
Initially, I grappled with how to respond. Other parents who had faced similar losses encouraged me to honor Max by including him in my count, to speak his name, and claim, “I have four children.” Many seemed to imply that failing to do so would be disrespecting his memory, regardless of the discomfort it might cause those asking.
However, my experience was different. A year after losing Max, we relocated from Colorado back to our home state of Oregon. We found ourselves in a new neighborhood, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. My eldest daughter was starting kindergarten, and we frequently encountered friendly, smiling individuals—potential friends or merely acquaintances. I thought carefully about my response to the inevitable question of how many children I had.
I wanted to be the mother who proudly declared, “I have three daughters and a son, but our son passed away.” I hoped I could embrace the discomfort that might arise for the asker, believing it was essential to acknowledge Max’s existence. But every time I tried this, it resulted in tears and an overwhelming flood of grief. I would find myself standing there, crying in front of someone I barely knew, sharing my heartbreak in what should have been a simple conversation.
Answering with “four” transformed what could have been a pleasant interaction into a painful reminder of my loss. Those who asked would leave feeling guilty or sad, burdened by the knowledge of my sorrow. I could envision them later saying, “I met a woman at the park who cried when I asked about her kids. I felt awful for bringing it up!”
I realized that Max’s name and his significance in our family were too precious to be mingled with feelings of pity or discomfort. When meeting new people, I needed to assess whether they were safe—someone I could eventually call a friend who would appreciate Max’s existence without needing to know him.
Once I established a deeper connection, I felt more comfortable sharing about Max and his place in our family. Those moments, when I chose to reveal my loss, were filled with love and compassion, shared with people who had come to know me and my story.
For now, we have three daughters with us. When someone asks me how many children I have, responding with “three” is an accurate answer. In the future, I may share about Max, or I may not—it all depends on the moment and the nature of the relationship developing between us.
In turn, I approach the question of how many children someone has with sensitivity. I recognize that this seemingly simple inquiry can have deep emotional implications and that individuals will share their stories at their own pace. This understanding has made me more cautious about how I ask such personal questions, respecting the complexity behind the answers.
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In summary, the question of how many children we have can evoke a range of feelings, especially for those who have experienced loss. It’s a deeply personal inquiry that can be met with varying responses, depending on the individual’s circumstances and emotional readiness.