Cover your Child with Cash
I’d forgotten the reason behind my purpose. It wasn’t until I watched The Iron Claw and Stick on Apple TV+ that I remembered: the death of a child—your child, my child—is, for many parents, the worst thing that could happen. I’d forgotten that I was a mess after the death of my infant son.
I’ve been putting my son’s death in my past. I’d purposefully depersonalized it. I wanted the memories out of my life, so I compartmentalized his life and his death. I hadn’t forgotten about my son—his memories sit in front of my face every day—but I didn’t want to cry in the shower anymore. I’d put him in a shoebox.
Shortly before my son’s death, a documentary called Gleason premiered on Amazon Prime Video. It’s the story of a New Orleans Saints player named Steve Gleason who was diagnosed with ALS. He wanted to create a video blog so his young son would remember him through those videos after his death.
I still haven’t watched Gleason. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. I avoided it after my son died.
Gleason, in a way, is my story in reverse.
The Time I Thought I Had
I wish that I’d spent more time with my son. I thought I’d have the rest of my lifetime to spend with him, so I let his mother and grandparents take the lead. I figured we’d start bonding once the drama died down. That never happened. The chance never came.
There were no favorite shows. No video game walkthroughs. No movie nights with popcorn and pajamas. I thought we had time for all of that. But we didn’t.
I Got Licensed, Then Walked Away
I got my life insurance license in 2021. It’s a few years later, and I still haven’t been interested in selling life insurance. I don’t have much interest in selling anything.
After watching The Iron Claw and Stick, I remembered that I didn’t get licensed for a paycheck. I got licensed because I wanted people to know that child riders exist. Before my son died, I had no idea that children could even be insured. I thought it might summon bad karma, so I never looked into it. Now I see it differently—it’s not a curse, it’s a safeguard.
Child Riders Aren’t About Death—They’re About Time
I’ve learned that children can be insured under a term life policy through something called a child rider.
The payout isn’t large, and it sure doesn’t touch the pain—but it might buy a parent some time—time off work, time to plan a funeral, time to cry in the shower without worrying if HR will need an update on your return date.
Most employers don’t provide any specific leave for the death of a child. There’s no federal law. Most states don’t acknowledge it either. They treat it like an edge case instead of the rupture it is. That’s why I wish my wife and I had life insurance protection for our children—because we were alone with our son's death.
The Loophole That Grieving Parents Are Forced Into
Massachusetts’ Paid Family & Medical Leave (PFML) doesn’t cover bereavement directly. But grieving parents may qualify if a doctor certifies a mental health condition—like depression or PTSD—triggered by the loss. That’s the loophole.
I don’t like the idea that a grieving parent needs to jump through hoops to claim their status. It should be compulsory. If we can recognize parental leave when a child is born, then we should damn well recognize it when a child dies.
The Bills That Try—And Fail—to Get It Right
Massachusetts lawmakers have introduced multiple bills to mandate bereavement leave after the death of a child, including House Bill HD 3789 and Senate Bill S 1354. Both propose up to 10 days of leave—paid or unpaid. While well-intentioned, these proposals fall short of the reality grieving parents face. Ten days is ludicrous.
Rather than burden small businesses, the legislature should target larger employers—places where staff redundancy and cross-coverage are possible. If the state truly values family, its laws should reflect the gravity of losing a child. Not just nod toward it with symbolic gestures. Not just fill the space with boilerplate empathy.
I’m Not Trying to Sell You Anything
I’m a licensed life insurance producer in Massachusetts. I also hold a Series 65. I understand how these policies work.
But I’m not selling you anything—not in this post, not anywhere on this page. This isn’t a pitch. This is what it looks like to survive something unthinkable and still try to help someone else.
This Is the Only Way Back
With all that being said, I’m glad to have remembered my “why.” I don’t want anyone to live in the same silence I did. Let’s allow the horror of infant death and childhood death to be processed by parents. Let’s not require them to hide it, sanitize it, or file it with a doctor’s note. It’s not a policy issue—it’s a human one.
Disclaimer
I’m a licensed life insurance producer in Massachusetts, but I’m not trying to sell you anything. This post reflects personal experience, not financial advice. I wrote it to remember my son—and why this work once mattered to me.
