The Question I Wish People Would Stop Asking

When my husband, Joseph, and I first moved in together, everyone asked when we would get married. When we got married, everyone asked when we would have a kid. Two years later, when I gave birth to our son Norrin, people asked when I was going to have another.

I hadn’t even been given the green light by my Ob/Gyn to get busy again. I was sleep deprived and my breasts were engorged and people were asking if I was ready to “try for a girl.”

The week that Norrin was diagnosed with autism my best friend had her baby shower. Norrin was two and half years old. Attending a baby shower, everyone wants to talk about babies and more babies. The diagnosis was so new. I was angry, heartbroken and confused.  And I wanted to scream each time someone asked, “My son has autism! And I don’t want any more kids.”

I struggled with whether or not to have another child. I knew Joseph wanted more children. My family kept saying we should have another. And every therapist that walked in and out of our home said a sibling would be the best therapy for Norrin. But autism was like this dark cloud hanging over me. I had fallen down this rabbit-hole and I was trying to figure out our new world.

After three years, I decided I was ready. And immediately I was pregnant. As I began to tell friends and family about my pregnancy, they all asked the same question: Are you scared this baby will have autism too?

For years people had asked when I was going to have another kid. Now that I was pregnant, everyone wanted to play on all of my fears. But during my second pregnancy, I was happy. Hopeful. Excited. And I told them that I wouldn’t worry until there was something to worry about. I wanted a baby.

And then during my 16^th week appointment, my Ob/Gyn discovered my baby had died. I had a miscarriage and I didn’t even know.

That was three years and eleven days ago. I haven’t been the same since. And I suppose I never will.

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