My Baby's Not an IT
by Paula Long
Setting:
Birthday party for a young child at a public pool. This entire scene took part while in the pool.
Woman 1:
"Can I tell her about what happened with you?"
Me:
"Uh, yeah," wondering for a second what she was referring to. Then, of course, it dawned on me. People seem to like to talk about (as in gossipy fashion) tragedies that happen to other people.
Woman 1:
"Her son died 2 years ago. He was stillborn."
Woman 2 to Woman 1:
:::gossip tone on:::
"Did you tell her about Jennifer's baby?"
:::gossip tone off:::
Me:
"I heard that her baby died. That's all I know."
Woman 2:
After relating all the details of Jennifer's stillborn baby and telling me several times that Jennifer's baby was a daughter, the gossip continued:
:::gossip tone on:::
"It died because..."
and
"It wouldn't have died if..."
:::gossip tone off:::
I cannot recall what else she said because the words it, it, it were ringing in my heart.
Me:
Offended already by her tone, I spoke as civilly as possible to Woman 2 (aka Gossip Woman) to impart to her the importance of recognizing our baby's as humans, not things:
"I want to let you know that I am greatly offended by your calling our babies its. Our babies are not its, they are human beings. You would be so offended if someone called your son over there an it, wouldn't you?"
Gossip Woman began to stammer and left the area. Afterwards, I took my daughter and myself to another area and cried.
The Results:
1. Woman 1, who was my friend, never initiated any conversation with me again for several months (until we met at the library during story hour). I am sure it is because I offended her friend, respectively referred to as Woman 2 (aka Gossip Woman).
2. Gossip Woman never apologized.
3. I spent many hours pondering how offended women would feel if I referred to their live children as its. Actually, I think it's pretty funny; I mean, can you even imagine?...
"Honey, would you get IT a drink of water?"
or
"IT needs ITS diaper changed."
or
"Hey IT, let's go to the park!"
My son never took a breath, but he lived and he lives on in my heart, his daddy's heart, and his sister's heart. Not a day goes by that I don't think of HIM. And, the fact is I've never ever thought of, or referred to, my SON as IT. The grave dug for his body - yes, that's an IT. The casket he lays in - yes, that's an IT. The tiny boy I buried in the earth was a living human being.
My son is a HIM
Her daughter is a HER
THEY are not ITS.
"I had a hard time deciding the title for this article and thought another good title would have been When Pronouns Hurt. My life now means putting up with these types of scenerios, not on a daily basis, but certainly enough to test my tact at times!"
You may reach Paula at paula@honoredbabies.org for comments.
© November 2000 by Paula Long. This work is protected by copyright and may be distributed or published only with the express written permission from its author. You may, without permission, publish or otherwise provide the URL (web address) of this page.
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