Yesterday we had a customer at the store with what I will swear on a stack of Bibles was the world's most polite 11-year old ever. I was complimenting dad, asking how he managed to raise such a great child.
His question to us? "How many kids do you have?"
Me? "Just one......"
I hate that that was my gut reaction. No, I don't have "just one". I have three. Andrew, Leila, and one I never give a second thought - my seven week miscarriage. Which Jess has really opened my eyes that (s)he was a life, too. And then discrediting my baby girl, too. What's wrong with me?
You know how you replay the conversation in your head afterward? What I wish I'd said is "I'm raising one, Jesus is raising the other two." But wouldn't that make the other person uncomfortable? Would it require a lengthy explanation? Is there such a thing as TMI when it comes to our heavenly children?
How have you handled this? Did you go for broke and let it all out? Did you do what I did, then feel that immense guilt?