Sarah's death came two months after Jonah started Kindergarten. He was terribly proud that he already had one sister, Rachel. And he was so very excited to tell his class that he was going to soon have TWO sisters.
I never did get the hang of his Kindergarten school year. Figuring out the school culture, the special sharing days, the school spirit events. Even things like birthday parties and play dates, I just avoided. Socializing and making small talk was the last thing I wanted to do.
Luckily, my better half is much more socially adept than me and did manage to get Jonah to several birthday parties, where they both had a blast.
But Jonah's now in first grade, and he's made it abundantly clear that he is an Aspiring Social Butterfly. If there is a chance to play with friends, he wants IN.
So I summoned my courage, and I escorted him to a classmate's party at the Y this evening. I was hoping to drop him off and run out, but he insisted that I stay. And while it was likely good that I stick around (holy boy party craziness) it left me in the not-so-enviable position of having to chat with folks I really don't know well.
Telling people that Sarah died makes me die a little inside, each time. And sure enough, when I introduced myself to the lovely mama who was hosting the party, there were several awkward moments where she wondered where the baby was - and me trying to not die as I explained that yes, I was pregnant last time she saw me, but no, there is no baby.
It's only the second time it has happened. And yet I feel like I brace for it every day. Because it's the most innocent of conversations - the basis for all conversations with a fellow mom: how many kids do you have? How old are they?
Sigh..
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