Tough Conversation

Last night, my husband and I decided to tell my children something that we have always wanted to tell them, but never really had a reason to do.  I got a phone call yesterday from my parents saying my uncle is very ill.  He has had cancer in the past, but is now in the hospital.  They have found spots on his liver and pancreas.  It doesn't look good.  After I hung up the phone, I told my husband that we need to tell the children.  I've said it here and there over the years if someone has become sick, but we would decide not to.  Time would pass.  This time he agreed. 

Soon after we were married, I became pregnant, carried the baby seven months, went for a routine check-up and the doctor could not find a heartbeat.  I was induced and delivered a perfect, tiny baby boy that had gotten wrapped in his umbilical cord.  We were devasted.  We held a small funeral with immediate family and his name was placed on the tombstone of my family's plot.  My children have never been to the cemetery.  It's in NY.  My husband and I would visit it occassionally or I would go when the kids were little and we were there for a visit.  Our oldest son was born ten months later and time went on.

It's always been right there - the two of us wanting to tell them, worrying that they would be mad and upset when they found out.  Our oldest will be sixteen.  Being a neurotic female, I thought it might change their lives, worried they would become depressed, etc.  They were great.  After a really nice conversation and many questions and many realizations ("I would be a middle child, not the oldest", "I'm the fourth, not the third", "was he cute?", "how sad were you when you had him?", "when was he born?", etc.), life went on.  More questions will pop up I'm sure - one was "will we be buried with him someday?" - which turned into a conversation about when they get married and have a family of their own. 

I'm relieved it's out there now and thankful they appeared fine with the news.  

A weight's been lifted,
NeuroticMom