"Is this your first?"
The question caught me off-guard yet again. This time though, I wasn't used to answering it in front of an entire class, so I panicked and said the first thing that came to my mind:
"Uh, yes."
Then it hit me what my instructor had actually asked me and I realized I had lied. So I immediately thought about back-tracking...
"Well, um..."
But somehow I couldn't bring myself to change my answer when all eyes were on me.
So I said, "Well...yeah..." and nodded.
It is BYU-Idaho's tradition to say a prayer before the beginning of every class, and it is my instructor's tradition to "interview" whoever is giving the prayer for that day. When it was my turn and he asked me that question, I had no idea he was going to ask that. Most people just assume if you are still in college and having (or have had) a baby that it's your first one. But looking back, how could I have possibly said stillborn in front of a whole class full of college students? Maybe someone in that classroom could have related to me. I guess I'll never know now that I stuck to my guns and awkwardly lied and said that Aidan is my first child.
I know that I'm going to get asked that question throughout the rest of my life. Whenever I get pregnant again, people will probably ask if Aidan is my oldest or if it is my second pregnancy. And I have realized that Aidan is going to get it his whole life too:
"Are you the oldest?"
And how is he going to answer that question? If he answers yes, it's a lie because Alma is my oldest child and Aidan's older brother - death can never change that fact. But then if he answers no and explains that his older brother died it just creates an awkward situation. It's tiring constantly having to answer that question and explain about Alma. It seems I have to fight to keep Alma in our family.
In my online class we are studying different poets and their works. Usually poetry is hard for me to understand, and I have to admit that it's not my favorite thing to study. But I also have to admit that I have loved this class and last week I read a poem that really hit me hard. I was able to totally relate to the little girl's perspective, and I found her optimism and persistence powerful.
We Are Seven
By William Wordsworth
———A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.
“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?”
“How many? Seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.
“And where are they? I pray you
tell.”
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother.”
“You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be.”
Then did the little Maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree.”
“You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five.”
“Their graves are green, they may be
seen,”
The little Maid replied,
“Twelve steps or more from my
mother’s door,
And they are side by side.
“My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
“And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
“The first that dies was sister
Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
“So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
“And when the ground was white with
snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side.”
“How many are you, then,” said I,
“If they two are in heaven?”
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
“O Master! we are seven.”
“But they are dead; those two are
dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!”
’Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, “Nay, we are seven!”
www.poetryfoundation.org
As hard as it is sometimes, I am going to keep fighting to keep Alma alive in our family. How could a mother ever forget her child? I carried Alma inside of me for 9 months and was able to bond with him during that short amount of time. I have felt his spirit and his love, and I know that he is real. I really was pregnant with him, I really gave birth to him, and I really had to say goodbye and watch my firstborn child be buried in the ground. It was all real. It all happened. For now death separates us, but I know without a doubt that I will get to see my baby again someday.
Until then I hope I can be like the little girl in the poem and proudly say that we are a family of four.
I know that the next time someone asks me, I won't hesitate to say that Aidan is our first child we are raising here and his older brother is watching overhead in heaven - even if that means changing my answer in front of an entire classroom filled with college students.
“Joseph Smith taught the doctrine that the infant child that was laid
away in death would come up in the resurrection as a child; and,
pointing to the mother of a lifeless child, he said to her: ‘You will
have the joy, the pleasure and satisfaction of nurturing this child,
after its resurrection, until it reaches the full stature of its
spirit.'"
Families Are Forever
