Welcome to One Busy Momma! The Blog for Busy Moms by one Busy Mom.....

Welcome to my blog. One Busy Momma is my space to rant about my life and the things that happen in it. I have a crazy life - and instead of focusing on the crazy - I like to focus on the funny. Because if I focused on the craziness - well, I'd have been shipped off to an institution long, long ago. And while, I'll admit, there are some days when being institutionalized sounds PRETTY GOOD compared to making ANOTHER diorama at 1am - I'd rather be right where I am - in my messy house with my not so perfect kids making crooked dioramas in the middle of the night.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

An Open Letter to Nationwide Insurance

Warning: This letter is not written in usual Busy Momma style. It is serious and not funny and gruesomely honest and real. If you don't need a visit to the dark and twisty forest that lives inside of Busy Momma -stop right here. 

To: The Marketing Team at Nationwide Insurance
From: A mom who represents thousands of potential customers

Re: Superbowl Commercial

I am writing in response to your multi-million dollar Superbowl ad. I realize that you are receiving a barrage of letters from parents who have lost children as well as parents who might not have lost children but were equally horrified, confused and offended by your ad.

I lost my son, Aiden Brian, on January 1st, 2011. He was our surprise baby - our gift from God. He was actually one of a twin, but I lost his twin very early on in my pregnancy. Aiden was a very active boy while in utero. I would often say that he was destined to be a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars - he was just so active in the womb. It did feel like he was tap dancing - especially at night. His brother and sister would read to him every night. They would read "The Cat in the Hat" and "Where the Wild Things Are" and "Cars and Trucks and Things that Go!" and all of their other favorites. They would read into my belly button so that he could hear them! My son told me that he was reading into my "pothole" so that "Baby Aiden can hear the story." My husband and I would often say that Aiden wasn't "our" baby - he was "their" baby. When we told them that I was pregnant - they both burst into happy tears. When we found out that "sweet pea" was a boy - we filled the house with blue and white balloons so that they found out as soon as they walked in the door from school.

My pregnancy was picture perfect after we got over the initial miscarriage of his twin. I wasn't nearly as nauseous as I was with the other 2. I felt great, I worked and traveled and all was well. I did everything right. I took my vitamins, I drank my water, I made sure that I was taking in enough folic acid, vitamin C, iron, calcium, vitamin e. I cut out the sashimi, the soft cheeses, my wine, I exercised and got plenty of rest. I was your model pregnant lady. I thought that I was insuring a healthy, happy baby.

But here's the thing I learned; you CAN'T insure health or happiness. Aiden died in utero at 24 weeks. I was 6 months along and he just died. One minute he was there and the next - poof - he was gone. I felt his spirit leave my body. I was the one who told the doctor that he was gone. I was the one who warned the tech at the sonogram that she would not hear a heartbeat - and that it was ok. I actually told her not to feel bad when she told me - because I already knew. I didn't want her to feel bad - especially on a holiday.

See, that was how we learned that there is NO insurance that can be purchased that will insure your child's life. If there was - we would have bought the Cadillac version of the policy. Trust me. We'd have been your best customer.

This is why your Superbowl ad so disturbed me. I'm being honest - I was only watching for the commercials and the snacks. The other commercials were GREAT - best I've seen in a few years. Some of them were real tear-jerkers...but in a good way. Your commercial was NOT a tear- jerker. It reminded me of the scare tactics employed by Dick Cheney and company after 9/11. It made me ANGRY. See - here's the thing: you decided to capitalize on the worst thing that any human being can go through. Oh, I know, I know, your intention was to "start a conversation".

OK - so let's converse.
Me: Oh, you want to discuss what happens when a child dies? Ok - well for the good of the order, I can give you a bit of insight. No one knows what to do with you or what to say. Oh, wait, I take that back. Did you know that there are nurses who actually go to school to help patients and parents of patients who die? Did you know that there are certificates that a nurse can get to become a specialist in neo-natal death? Sound gruesome, right? But let me tell you - they are angels. They know, for example, that you need to contact a funeral home - and they aren't afraid to tell you. They tell you exactly what is about to happen - without flinching and without sounding like an emotionless robot. They remind you that you have to look at your dead child, that you will want to take pictures. They will send you home with a little box that has everything your baby wore, anything that touched him. They will take his footprints and give them to you. They will fill out all of the paperwork for his death certificate. They will make sure that you are so drugged up that you don't "feel" a thing as you deliver him. They will sit with you as you cry and cry and cry until you think you will die. And when you don't die, they talk to you about grief counseling and grieving and how important it is. When it's time to go home - they sneak you out, like you're a celebrity, a back door. Why, you ask? Well - so that you don't have to go through the labor and delivery waiting room, silly! I mean who wants to see an obviously not-pregnant mommy leaving labor and delivery without a baby in her arms and "It's a BOY!" balloons attached to her wheelchair. That's a downer.

Have you had enough "conversation"? Seriously? But I haven't even told you about what it feels like to have your milk come in and NO baby to feed it to. Or what it is like to have to tell your 6 and 9 year-old that their beloved baby brother has died.  Or what it is like to watch your Dad try to convince you that he's not crying as you tell them. Not to mention what it is like to bury your child. That can be another whole letter. The one thing I will tell you is that the cemetery workers are super smart. They make sure that the hole is too narrow for the mommy to jump into with the casket. I mean that hole is really narrow. I couldn't fit in with my coat on - forget fitting in there with the casket.

Oh - ok. You've had enough. Sorry - as you know by now - dead kids are a real downer. So here is my question: which of your policies "prevents" this type of thing from happening to us again? I visited your website, but I couldn't find it. I must be clicking on the wrong link.

What? What's that? You don't have a policy to protect my living babies from "never growing up"?

I'm confused. So what does your policy do?

What? Seriously?

Pay funeral expenses? Wait a minute....that's not what your ad implied....

I guess Nationwide is NOT on my side.

No comments:

Post a Comment