Conversation in the bathroom between my four year old daughter and I regarding the loss of our baby:
HER: (perplexed look) "Why is your potty red, Mommy?
ME: "It's not red; it's blood."
She goes to bed. Later she comes back to use the toilet. I am in the bathtub.
HER: "Mommy, why do you need to get clean in the bathtub?"
ME: "I don't feel very well so it's helping me to feel better being in the nice warm water."
HER: "Why don't you feel very well?"
ME: (deep sigh, look of indecision) "Well... we were going to have a baby but now we're not because the baby died."
HER: (sighs, sounds sad) "MMM-mmm... What baby? Where was the baby?"
ME: "It was in my tummy. it was only about this big (holding up fingers to measure about an inch) but it died."
HER: (face lights up) "I have an idea, Mom! I have a mouse! It can swim! The mouse can go down the toilet and get the baby out!"
(we had been listening to the story of Stuart Little, the mouse, on CD earlier)
ME: "That's a good idea, honey, but it's too late - the baby already died."
HER: (sadly) "Oh-h!" (pausing to think) but why do babies die, Mommy?"
ME: "I don't know, honey."
HER: (contemplative) "Sometimes that's just the way it is, Mom."
ME: "Yep. That's true."
HER: (lighting up again) "But, Mom, my mouse can swim! It can swim down there - it's a girl one, not a boy one - and it can swim down there and take care of the baby!"
ME: "Okay, honey!"
HER: (scampers out of the bathroom) "Good night, Mommy!"
ME: "Good night, sweetheart. I love you!"
These are the best days of my life and the sweetest moments, regardless of the pain.