Please talk about him.

Everyone is afraid to mention our son.

I have had friends shut me out, because they're afraid to talk about our son.  I think they feel like they don't want to remind me of him, but he's always there.  There are moments when I want to scream at them, "He is always with me, he took such a huge piece of me when he died."  …but I don't, because I know they're doing what they think is best.

That's the rub though, it's not what's best.

Please talk about my son, our perfect baby.  Please say his name; let me know that you will remember him.  I don't want him to fade from our minds and memories, just because he's not physically here.  We may not ever know his laugh or smile on this side of eternity, but he still counts.  His life still counts.  My husband and I had a relationship with him.  When I sang, he danced in my womb.  When his daddy talked to him, he would stop to listen, then start wiggling back at him (his own way of talking to Ryan).  He still counts.  He lived within me, and he counts.

Maybe other parents who have lost children want to shut down that part of their lives and keep it to themselves. (Obviously that's not really the case here, as my primary outlet of grief is a publicized blog.)  For me, I need to talk about Emmett.  I need others to talk about him, because as I said, he counts, and I want him to be remembered.  I love knowing the impact he made on people, regardless of what it is.

So don't feel as though you need to walk on eggshells around me.  I appreciate the sentiment and I can appreciate the fact that you may not know what to say.  (Seriously, if I were in your shoes, having not experienced something like this, I wouldn't know what to do either.)  I'm telling you though, I want to talk about him.  I don't need your whole world to revolve around my son, or even our whole conversation, but please don't act like this didn't happen.  I carried him for nine months, he lived within me, and I gave birth to him.  He still counts.