I was recently at a medical appointment with my seven year old son. The friendly doctor leaned in and asked my son, “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
My son hesitated and said, “No.”
“Just you? No brothers and sisters?”
“No”, he answered again.
I felt like jumping in but left it.
“You’re the only child then?”, he continued.
“Yes”, said my only son, shyly.
The doctor was only being friendly and kind. He could’ve stopped after the first question, though.
Little did he know with that question comes pain. Pain for me, a longing, a memory of insurmountable loss.
We’re beyond grateful for our incredible son. We’re also incredibly grateful for having had a daughter.
This July will be eleven years since our beautiful and precious daughter Luka Jane Bickis-Florizone was born. Three days later, she was no longer with us. She was born with a rare genetic disorder called Trisomy 18. We had no idea this was coming. She was born full term, a mostly normal pregnancy.
It was beyond tragic. It felt like we lost everything that meant anything. Our world collapsed.
But I’m not here to tell you the whole story today. At some point, I will. I appreciate you reading my blog. Allowing me to share with you.
But what I do want to address is the language we use.
When someone asks, “Only the one?”, they are making a terrible assumption. They don’t know about our loss. They don’t know about our seven miscarriages in addition to Luka and our son. They don’t know I cried for two years straight.
Language is a powerful thing. Something that can rip off an old scab, be a punch in the gut, or on the flip side be fuel to our spirit, giving hope, love, and kindness when one needs it the most.
What’s strange is how often this question comes up. From strangers in grocery store lines, at parks, in airplanes while travelling. Early on it used to bother me more, but now I realize the person who asks this question has not had the same kind of loss.
It’s a signal of sorts, a code phrase used unknowingly for never having lost a child.
And that’s ok. Because I would never wish such a loss on anyone.
And nor would Luka.
She was one amazingly beautiful spirit.
Luka would be going into grade six next fall.
Our bringer of light.
“No, doctor. Not just the one.”
With Gratitude,
PS. If you think someone might enjoy reading this, please feel free to share. Thank-you.
"You just have the one?"
I agree! People ask questions based on their curiosity and have a hard time reading the situation when they don't get their desired answer. Society hasn't learned to be sensitive to the pain each if us go through and will always have.
I can relate to your story in a very different way. But I know pain and questions do not help.
I am so sorry your family has this pain.
I think a lot about how to respond with a question that will encourage self-awareness.
I think of Luka often .... I wish she was still be here with you all.