That Question

Tonight, I finally got to meet our new neighbours. They've lived over our backyard fence since December, and now that it's Spring and I'm out of hibernation I met them over the fence after work today. It was really lovely. Full of the regular neighbourly pleasantries. 

We introduced their little boy (maybe 2?) to Chase. He loved it. Apparently there's a striking resemblance to the Chase from PawPatrol. We even got to meet their 2 day old daughter. It was very sweet. 

Naturally, "the question" followed:

Him: "So, do you guys have any kids?"
Me: "Yes. We have a son. He passed away in September."
Him: "Oh no. I'm so sorry to hear that."
Me: "Thank you. His name is Ryan."
Him: "That's a great name. Thank you for sharing him with me."

It was great. Except it wasn't. Because that's not at all how it went. Instead it was more like this:

Him: "So, do you guys have any kids?"
Me: "Ummm..... No?"
Him: "Oh. Okay..." 
Her: "Oh, just wait. Being pregnant can be so tough!"
(Then all voices just started to sound like ocean waves, and I may have blacked out standing there).

Saved by Rich who entered the yard at that exact moment and another pleasant conversation about the secrets of green grass ensued. Leaving me to just stand there looking like a socially awkward mess of a human being.

Flash forward to 2 hours later, still beating myself up, wondering why on earth I can't just answer that question the way it is in my head. Why I'm always left stuttering and making things more awkward than if I were to just blurt out that our son died.

Rich always says it's okay. That sometimes, when you just meet someone for the first time, it's acceptable to not lead with our tragedy. And I guess to some point, I agree. But there's always this nagging voice inside me that shouts: "No! Tell people about him! You DO have a kid! It's okay!"

I have this other voice too that reminds me that Ryan's death, in the grand scheme of life, is still new enough. And in time I'll get to the place where I can just say the words in my head and my heart without fear. Without being so damn awkward.