Madeline

Supporting someone after the death of a child is complicated. You hear people often say, “There are no words,” and it’s true. There aren’t any words. Oliver was born sleeping exactly four weeks ago, and I still don’t feel like even I have the words, and I’m the one living it.

The people who love you want to support you and show up for you. Sometimes that’s in person via acts of service, and sometimes it’s over the phone or through the mail with their words. And unless you’ve experienced child loss, you can’t formulate adequate words to convey how sorry you are and how much you grieve with the parents. I don’t think a singular word or combination of words exist in any human language to describe the pain.

But something I’ve learned in the last month is even the most well-meaning words hurt. There are so many pieces of advice I’ve been given, from friends to family to strangers online in grief forums. I choose to believe that no one would intentionally say something hurtful to a grieving parent. I choose to believe that every word spoken to me has come from a place of kindness, love, and empathy, but also a place of not understanding. And that’s okay. This type of loss isn’t something you can just “understand.”

Because of that, I want to share some of the less helpful words or pieces of advice I have been given since Oliver died. You may never think to say any of this to a grieving parent, but in case it did cross your mind, let me explain to you why these words are painful and unhelpful, and what goes through our minds when you say them.

1. “At least you know you can get pregnant.” I’ll admit, when Jordan and I decided we wanted to have children, my biggest fear was being infertile and not knowing. I was terrified it would be a long, difficult, or even impossible process to even see a positive pregnancy test. I got pregnant with Oliver after 4 months, and I am very aware of how fortunate I am that the journey was fairly easy. I just had no idea what was ahead of me. I’m grateful I can get pregnant, sure, but that means very little in the grand scheme of things if I can’t stay pregnant. And now I live in the reality where I know that just because I see a positive pregnancy test or a heartbeat on an ultrasound doesn’t mean I get to bring my baby home.
2. “He’s in a better place.” I’m sure heaven is incredible. I don’t doubt that. But I will never agree that the best place for my son was anywhere except with me.
3. “God has a plan.” This is going to ruffle some feathers, but I’m going to say it. If this was God’s plan, it sucks, and He needs to let someone else help with the playmaking. I don’t agree with His plan. I don’t like His plan. I hate His plan. Maybe one day I’ll understand it, but I can’t see that far into the future, and transparently, I’m very unhappy with Him right now.
4. “You’re handling it so well.” Am I? I’m not. Not at all. You might not see it, but I’m pretending. I’m acting. I want everyone to think I’m okay, that I’m doing better. But admittedly, I think things are only getting harder. Just because I’m not screaming and holed up in my house every second of the day doesn’t mean I’m “handling it.” Just because I can get out of bed doesn’t mean I don’t still struggle to breathe when I think about it. I lost my son before I ever got to see him smile or hear him cry. I lost myself too. I’m not handling it — I’m surviving it.
5. “I can’t imagine what that feels like.” I know this is an attempt to offer empathy, but please don’t say this. I couldn’t imagine it either, until I had no choice. You don’t have to imagine or understand to support someone. And you’re right: you can’t imagine it. But please don’t remind me that your worst nightmare, the unimaginable, is my reality. I haven’t forgotten, but please don’t remind me.
6. “Holding my baby a little closer tonight.” This might be the worst one. This one doesn’t just fill me with sadness, it fills me with rage. What you’re communicating when you say this to grieving parents is, “This is awful. Thank God it was you and not me.” You’re essentially remind us that you have what we don’t, that our loss is reminding you to be grateful for what’s in front of you. I don’t want to hear that you’re holding your baby tightly tonight while my arms are empty, while I have to live with the knowledge that I’ll never hold my son again.
7. “You can always try again.” Sure, but any future child will never be him. Oliver isn’t replaceable. He was my first baby. And for the rest of my life, no matter how many living children I have, there will always be a hole in our family where he was supposed to be.
8. “Let me know if you need anything.” I hesitated putting this one, because it is so well meaning, but it just isn’t helpful. When we left the hospital, we were flooded with calls and texts and offers to do anything we needed. We appreciated every offer and are grateful we had so many amazing people in our corner, but I learned quickly that my mental load couldn’t carry more. I couldn’t tell you what I needed when I didn’t even want to open my eyes in the morning. How could I reach out and tell you what I need when I couldn’t bring myself to even get out of bed? Let me offer this alternative: give them choices. Something like, “Would you like me to come do your dishes or would you like me to drop off dinner?” By doing this, you’re taking the burden off them.

Sharing isn’t always caring. Sometimes your words hurt and you have no idea. That’s why I write these blog posts. In the event that you have to reach out to anyone experiencing child loss, here are a few things you can say that are helpful and gentle. Don’t just send these in the hours and days after tragedy, either. Reach out periodically so they know you remember them, their grief, and their baby.

1. “I’m so sorry to hear what happened. I am thinking of you/praying for you/sending you love.”
2. End your messages with, “Please don’t feel obligated to respond. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.”
3. “I love you and I’m here for you.”
4. “I saw ___ today and it made me think of you/them.”
5. “Will you tell me about them?”