A generally pleasant question, so easy to answer.

I used to think so anyhow.

Having lost a 2 year old child, Richard, our second born son, I can say that the first year was the hardest without him. Harder still, and surprisingly to me, were the questions total strangers asked. "How many children do you have?" My mouth would drop open and I’d stutter a bit, stammer out, "Well, I have two children, but one just died." Yeah, pretty clunky, and you could hear their breath get knocked out of them – and that was just the telephone solicitors! About six months after Richard died, it suddenly occurred to me that there was a word missing from that question! Do you know what it is? It’s the word "living." If you stop and think about it, that is what people are asking: "How many living children do you have?" It’s an unspoken assumption.

Twelve years now after Richard’s death, I generally can answer that question with a "normal sounding" voice, "One." Depending on the circumstances, I may say, "Two, but one is in heaven. He was with us for only two years." Further details either come if they seem truly interested, or nothing more is said if they demurely murmur, "Oh, I’m sorry," with no further comment or question. There are times when my voice might crack, or you’ll hear a bit of hesitation as I answer, "One." The end of April is the hardest, and here it is the end of March as I write this… My thoughts are already steering toward these landmarks. You see, Richard was born on April 30^th, 1992 (6 weeks early with lots of problems), and he died on April 22^nd, 1994. That was a week and a day before his second birthday. He would have been 14 years old this year. He died while we were waiting for his special wheelchair to be made. He had been measured for it the beginning of March, as he was getting too long for the stroller. He had such a "tight" form of cerebral palsy that he didn’t look like a toddler. When he was laid out in the casket, he actually looked like one, though… his body, no longer a prisoner of CP, relaxed and stretched out… just as his spirit escaped the tight shell it was in. He was and is now able to run and dance on those Gold Streets with His Master and Lord. My arms are empty and sometimes I weep, but deep down I am encouraged and I can rejoice in our Hope… Hope which is Jesus.

I welcome questions about Richard. It’s been so funny that those who are scared of causing the bereaved pain, are so reticent to speak his name or ask questions about him. The bereaved, I have found, must be the educator to those around them. The pain is there whether you speak or do not, it causes no further pain. But it is painful, when no one will speak his name, remember that he existed, give me a chance to cry on their shoulder missing him. I’m sure those who have suffered a miscarriage hurt very similarly. It’s easier when an adult dies, in a way. It is the way of the world for a child to bury their parent, but does not seem right when it is the other way around. Besides, when a parent dies, they leave a spouse, children… ah, children. Children prove the existence of the parent. You know they existed when there are children. Or when an adult dies without spouse or children – usually there is something that is left behind showing they existed on this earth. If an artist, their artwork; if an engineer, their bridge or buildings – tangible ways that say, "I was here." But when a child dies, or a wee one who never drew breath of air, they only leave a hole in their mother & father’s hearts. A hole that will never be replaced. That individual, as unique as a snowflake, existed. But if no one acknowledges that existence, allowing the parents to grieve and be comforted with friends who can embrace them, it is as if that child never existed. It’s as if my son, Mike, was truly an only child. He wasn’t. He was a big brother: two and a half years old when Richard was born, four and a half when Richard died. His memories have faded so he is happy that we have photographs documenting Richard’s life.

Family size: it’s not always what it appears from someone looking in from the outside. There are so many different circumstances of why someone may only have one child. Infertility. Difficulty in bringing a baby to full term. Choice. Health issues whether from the mother or the father. Loss of a sibling. You can not easily come to the conclusion of why a family has however many children they have.

After having two children easily conceived (within days with Mike and within 2 months with Richard), I have truly learned that the Lord opens & closes the womb, as I’ve never been blessed with another pregnancy. Birth control, or family planning in any form, has a certain amount of "illusionary power." A + B does not always = C, no matter how diligent the couple. We have to walk prayerfully with the Lord to guide us in what we are to do. He doesn’t always tell every family the same thing, nor does He give multiple children to every family. Children are a blessing and a reward! Scripture tells us this.

Psalm 127:3-5 says: "Children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them."

But the number of children are not mentioned. A full quiver will mean a different amount of "arrows" to each individual family. I rejoice for those with many children. I rejoice with the one that was sought for and finally received from the Lord. My heart goes out to the couple who have never been able to conceive, and I give as much comfort as I can, referring to Isaiah 54:1-5. Verse one of that passage states, "Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD."

God is sovereign. We praise Him, blessing His Name because He gives and because He takes away – because of Who He is, He is to be praised.

Don’t assume you know the whole story when you see a family troop by with only one child, or with 16. Don’t judge; just rejoice with them over the reward which the Lord has graced them.

See, "How many children do you have?" isn’t as simple a question as you might have thought.