I’ve been working on this exact post for a couple months.
JR and I had a “laugh” about the things people say that weren’t well though out a couple weeks after she passed, albeit through teary eyes….but we had a bonding moment through our grief. Coming together and connecting the ignorant outside world, somehow, to our dark world that was falling in around us. Somehow this gave me a glimpse of what was going out outside of my bedroom. My room that I kept dark with heavy drapes to keep out any glimmer of happiness, of sunlight, or of hope.
While that definitely wasn’t a turning point in my grief (is there one?!?) it was a moment what sticks out to me, in the depths of hell, that we bonded. A moment that I wasn’t balling my eyes out and wishing to go to heaven so I could hold my baby girl, the first moment that I didn’t feel like a messy sobbing burden to him but like an equal, someone who in fact *was* experiencing the same thing and feeling the same way. Even though the previous couple weeks we certainly had different ways of dealing with it my tears and sorrows suddenly felt normal and accepted by him. It was then that I knew then he felt the same way I felt and was dealing with others the same way I was.
(Just let me add…”You’re young, you’ll have another” – if you lost a parent would you feel this way?? You can alway have a stepmom, right?? 🙄🙄)
God bless all you folks for you know not what you say. Most of the time there are positive intentions behind it but, for future reference, we would rather you say nothing at all. Seriously a hug or “you’re in my prayer’s” holds INCREDIBLE weight!
Pray for us and our families in this difficult time.
“At least you can get pregnant.”
This is no comfort when my pregnancy ended without a child to hold. When you think of being pregnant you never imagine the aftermath consisting of empty arms and a heavy heart. Seeing two pink lines or the word “pregnant” on a test, doesn’t comfort me now I haven’t got the baby I envisioned to hold.
“At least you have Aurora and Tobias.”
Of course I am grateful for the two children I have living but they are not the baby I’ve just lost and as harsh as it may sound, they don’t make it okay either. There are people out there who don’t have any children to focus on when they experience the loss of a child, I understand that but it doesn’t take away the fact I have lost a child. I have lost a lifetime of birthdays, milestones and memories. The children I have are not the child/ren I have lost.
“God needed another Angel.”
It wasn’t until very recently in my life that I have discovered the church and have started on my journey with God. However, even if I had, it wouldn’t have made it any easier hearing this, how would you feel if God decided your child was the Angel he needed? Yeah, exactly.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Maybe true, but it doesn’t take away my pain or heartache. It doesn’t change the fact that I STILL LOST MY BABY. It’s just a reminder that I’ll probably never know the reason I lost my child. I don’t care that “everything happens for a reason,” or what that reason was, no matter what – it’s a fucking shitty reason.
“You’ll have a real baby.”
Fuck off, MY baby was/is a real baby! Just because I didn’t get to raise him, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t a “real baby” – was it all just a figment of my imagination?! I THINK NOT.
“At least you weren’t further gone.”
Whilst my heart is so heavy for people who have lost their baby at full term or neonatally, IT DOESN’T TAKE MY PAIN AWAY. Losing a baby at whatever gestation is still that, loosing a baby. No parent should ever outlive their child, whether the child was an embryo, a fetus, newborn or a freaking adult. IT STILL HURTS, there is no “at least.” I lost MY child.
“I would have called but I didn’t know what to say.”
You know what? Right now I’m struggling for words too but I’m still here and whether you know what to say or not, its nice to know I’m not alone. I’m not a disease, I’m not contagious, I’m just hurting. Come for a cup of tea and if I need to talk, listen to me. If I don’t need to talk, just be there. That’s all I need. Its awful lonely having an empty womb where your future once lived. There is nothing wrong with silence.
Don’t assume I’m going to just replace my baby with another pregnancy, chances are it’s the last thing on my mind right now. Maybe I don’t want another baby? Maybe this is where my journey to being a mother ends? It certainly feels that way right now. It’s not for you to assume. “Next time” isn’t important right now and wont make me feel any excitement, I’m hurting for now.
“Times a healer.”
THIS IS THE BIGGEST LOAD OF BULLSHIT. “Time” hasn’t healed me and it certainly hasn’t lessened the pain. Granted, overtime I learnt new ways to grieve and channel my emotions towards my loss but whether it’s been a week, a month or a year, my heart is still broken and there will forever be a piece missing. Time wont change that, my journey with grief has just helped me cope.
“Maybe it’s just not the right time.”
FOR WHO?! Because, to be honest, when I decided I was ready for another baby and it was time to start trying, I’m pretty sure I evaluated how we would manage, financially, realistically and emotionally. I’m pretty sure I decided it was the right time. I’m pretty sure that decision is really only down to me seeing as it is my life. Is there even a right time? I don’t know and I don’t care. I decided this was the right time and right now you making me question my decision on that IS NOT HELPING.
Please note: These are my views and how I felt, please don’t feel like I’m trying to talk on behalf of everyone who has lost a child. The loss of a child is very individual, as individual as the child you’ve lost and what might help one person, may hurt another. Please feel free to add your own to the comments.
Ten things I didn’t want to hear when my baby died.