The other day I took the twins to an appointment. The tech helping us asked them all sorts of normal questions including, "Do you have any other brothers or sisters?" I always pause here to let them answer as they wish. They were both quiet a moment until one piped up, "We have a sister AND a brother." "How old are they?" "Our sister is 9." At this point we were interrupted by different tasks and the appt. continued. 10 minutes or so passed and the very kind tech came back around to it. "Did you say you have a brother too?" Silence. I could tell my sweet 7 year olds weren't sure how to answer this question, as I myself always struggle with it. Do we HAVE him? No, we don't. I've written about my position on this before. I usually judge each situation individually. In this case, I could tell this woman was genuinely interested and would be able to handle an honest answer. I spoke for the twins, "We had a baby boy that passed away 5 years ago." I said the words clearly and strongly, didn't break up with silent sobs or tear up at all. It was a clear, true answer and I said it with confidence and with conviction to a stranger- for the first time ever. The woman turned back to the twins and said, "What was your brother's name?" without any sorrowful looks or I'm sorrys. "His name was Beau! He'd be 4, almost 5!" they joyfully answered. "What a great name!" she replied matter-of-factly and carried on with the appointment. It was a normal discussion on a normal day. She has no idea how the normalcy of those words brought me so much comfort. Thank you to all who work to normalize grief and loss, even if they don't know they're doing it.