What do I say?

The biggest worry that I had about moving into a new area was having to tell people over and over again that one of my children died. When you meet someone a common question that is asked is "how many children do you have". That question is usually fine because I tell them three and leave it at that. It's the following questions after that one that are usually hard. They ask the ages and so on. Brock and I usually say a girl that is 4, a boy that would be 2.5, and a 6 month old. Some people catch onto the "would be" part and some don't. Some do catch on but pretend that they didn't hear it. Usually the conversation ends quickly after that because it gets awkward and they don't know how to handle the situation after that. Every time-every conversation is just as hard. It's still stings every time. It is something that I dread going to church because of. Going to the park, or just seeing someone outside. I will never leave my son out, but every time I get into a conversation with someone the question I always think in my mind is "what do I say?". Am I strong enough today to go into detail about Corby. Can I handle that conversation today? It has really taken a toll on me lately, but I still put on a smile and act like my life is just as normal as the person sitting next to me.
Ledger had his 6 month well check today with a new pediatrician. I have been dreading today since the minute I made the appointment because I knew that I had to tell him about Corbyn. I was dreading talking to him or his staff about my utter terror to get Ledgyr vaccinated and why. Would he understand? Would he be compassionate or just chalk Corbyn up as another SIDS case and brush it off because that just happens. ( yep people have said that to me) I wanted to, so bad, cancel the appointment and call our old pediatrician and tell her that we will be traveling an hour to her because she understands. She lived our horror right alongside us and gets it. She knew Corby personally from the time he was born and fell in love with him just as we all did. I didn't have to explain to her all my fears because she understood already. I didn't have to talk to her about my dead son and not having any answers because she was the one calling the medical examiner daily for weeks asking her questions and trying to find answers herself. She was the one that went to seminars with Corbyn in mind trying to find some path to go down to hopefully get answers.
I went to the appointment and the minute the medical assistant walked us into a room the first question she asked was about Ledgyr's vaccinations. Through tears in my eyes all I could say was that I would talk to the doctor about that. The appointment was already starting off on the wrong foot. I wanted to run out and not even see the doctor. When he came in it started out fine because he didn't know yet. He asked if there was anything that I or our other pediatrician is worried about with Ledgyr. The conversation immediately went down hill from there, but I had to tell him about Corbyn and my concerns about getting Ledgyr vaccinated. I wasn't strong enough emotionally today to go into detail about it all, and it felt like he was unsure on how to handle the situation anyway. I had just let a bomb off in the room and he wasn't prepared for it. He told me that he was so sorry, but I didn't feel like he really understood. Like he really got the depth of pain that Corby's death has caused. We hurried through the appointment and I quickly left.
All I wanted to do was cry and scream and hit something over and over again until I mutilated it the minute I walked out of that office. I'm tired of this pain. I'm tired of always having that conversation and feeling that sting over and over again. I hate more than anything that I have to have such a horrible conversation. Why me? Why my perfect son? Why can't I be overly excited to move into a new neighborhood and meet new friends without having to have this storm cloud follow me everywhere I go striking lightning bolts at me reminding me of my constant pain? I hate always having to ask myself when a new conversation starts "what do I say this time?".

"How will my dead son come up in this conversation?" "How will I emotionally handle it this time?".