So often in the community of bereaved parents we talk about all of the things that friends and family should not say to us. There are countless articles of things never to say to bereaved parents but not as many about things to actually say. If we want to break the silence around baby and child loss we need to communicate our needs of what people can say or do to help. We must educate society on what real empathy is. What does empathy look like for you? What do you wish people would have said to you? How could they have helped you better?
We were lucky in that most of our friends and family were amazing with their words or actions. The words that stung were mostly from people who weren't as close. A lot of times people say let me know if there is anything I can do. But for many people like myself, I find it hard to lean on people, and bark out orders. Also, in a time like this, we don't even know what we need done, so it's hard to tell other people.
Our friends and family chose specific things to ask if we needed them done, or just told us they were going to do it. My aunt called my boss to tell him what happened, my best friend rescheduled my dentist appointment, and also called the store where we were registered to have our registry hidden. My dad told family members so we wouldn't have to. Our friend went to our house and put all the baby stuff we had accumulated into the unfinished nursery and closed the door so we wouldn't have to see it. My dad called the funeral home and let us know what our options were, then called them back to make arrangements.
My inlaws went to our house to pick up some stuff for us while we were in the hospital. Once we were home they grocery shopped for us, other people sent meals over. A few friends sent flowers. We could barely function so all of these things were a Godsend, and there was no way we could have made any of those phone calls without breaking down in tears. We wanted to have the funeral luncheon at our house, we just wanted to be in our own home. We were so easily exhausted that week, we just wanted to be able to crash as soon as people left. Our house was a mess and in no shape for company, so our inlaws came over, sent us to the movies and cleaned our house.
As far as things they said to us, keep it simple. I am sorry for your loss. I'm so sad. My heart breaks for you. They called Kayla by name and they called her our daughter. They acknowledged us as parents (which is important if the lost baby/child was your only/first one). They cried with us. They knew it was ok to talk about other things as well, and help make us laugh. They weren't afraid to bring her up, thinking it would only remind us of our pain. Trust me when I say, we never forget. Sometimes people don't know what to say, and that's alright too. Telling someone you don't know what to say tells the bereaved that you aren't pretending to know their pain, but you still care.
If we wanted to talk about Kayla, they let us. We know it's a difficult topic, but they didn't let their own discomfort keep us from talking about our baby. A week or so after, a grief counselor called me from the hospital. She was wonderful to talk to. Sometimes as a mother of a baby that died before she got a chance to live, it's hard to not feel like others' judge our pain. Thinking we shouldn't be allowed to grieve since we "didn't know them". But she made my loss feel important and I could genuinely tell that she grieved for us. I also told her about our early loss the year before, and she gasped, and said how I have been through so much. She validated my pain.
Best of all, our friends and family recognized my husband's pain too. We both lost our daughter, but so many focus on just the woman. I carried her, I gave birth to her, but in many ways I feel like my husband carried the biggest burden. Not only was he grieving our loss, he was also worried about me, and had to be strong for me. It is not as acceptable for a man to break down in tears. He had to put on the brave face and be strong for both of us.
We also appreciate people who remember our daughter and remember our pain long after it initially happens. Wishing us a peaceful mother's day/father's day that first year, acknowledging the following year, once our rainbow has arrived, that it is not our first mothers'/fathers' day, remembering our daughter on her birth/death day, visiting her grave and leaving flowers, counting her as a member of the family (my inlaws say they have 8 grandchildren, not 7). Being a bereaved parent can be very lonely, so the best thing friends and family can do is let them know they are not alone.
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