Friday, July 7, 2017

How to ~Not~ be an Insensitive Douche to Someone Who Lost a Child

Recently, an acquaintance of mine messaged me on Facebook. Her good friend had just lost both of her premature twins, and she was at a loss of what to say to comfort her friend. She asked me what helped comfort me, and she asked for advice on what she could say or do to be of help to her friend. My heart broke for her friend, and I was SO thankful that she reached out to me for advice. It really showed how much she cared to help and the pure love she has for her friend.


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This is the reason I'm writing this post. I know many people don't know how to help so they end up saying things they think are comforting, but they're actually the opposite. I know this from first hand experience, and I just had to hold my tongue.

Let me preface this by saying that I know everyone means well when they try to comfort me in my grief. I don't plan to promote this post, but if you happen to run across it, I hope you read this and understand where I'm coming from. This post will probably seem morbid and bitter, but that's the reality of a grieving mom. I'm also sure that I have said hurtful things in the past when I thought that I was helping- because I was ignorant. And let me tell you, ignorance IS bliss. But for those of you that have a loved one or friend or acquaintance that is among the world's unluckiest, please read on.

I'm a Mormon. I have many beliefs, one of them being that I have an eternal family. I believe I will see my son in the next life, and I believe that I will get to raise him then.




I've compiled some of the first (and many times, only) responses I received after people found out my son died. Below each quote is the response that I said (or screamed) inside my head, and are likely the same responses that every grieving parent wishes they could say out loud.


"I know how you feel. I had a miscarriage too."


*screaming into megaphone* I DID NOT MISCARRY MY SON; I WATCHED HIM DIE. I watched him choke on his last breaths, I watched his eyes go lifeless, I watched his face turn blue and I felt his body turn cold. The only time I ever got to dress him was after he was already dead. I buried him in the ground, and now I get nightmares about the thought that his body no longer looks like it did when I kissed him for the last time.

I'm sorry about the loss of your pregnancy and I'd like to talk to you about that at a different time, but I'm confused what in the world your first trimester miscarriage has to do with the death of my son?


[side note: I miscarried 3 times before I had Jett]

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"Families are forever."

This is a favorite response among Mormons. Seriously 9/10 times, there's no "I'm so sorry," there's just "Families are forever." FYI: regardless of sector, every religious or spiritual person believes they will see their loved ones after death. But other religious people aren't insensitive and don't treat death like it's no big deal.


You know what feels like forever? Waiting 60 years until I die to see my son again. Your family is forever too, but I see you're sitting there ignoring your kids while you shop online, sooooo....?

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"Aren't you thankful for the knowledge of the Plan of Salvation?"


You have the same knowledge as I do, so why did my kid have to die and not yours?

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"You are so blessed to have a guardian angel for the rest of your life."


Ummm, I'd much rather my guardian angel be my grandmother that lived a long life and has already been dead for several years, thanks.

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"He's in a better place."


Oh wow, thanks so much for reminding me that my son is so much better off without me. Thanks to you, I've been cured from my grief.

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"God needed another angel. You are so blessed."


It's really easy to say that when He didn't ask for yours.

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"God won't give you any trials that you can't handle."


NEWS FLASH, I DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE BUT TO HANDLE IT.


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"When are you going to try again?"


1) "Try again" is horrible wording. It makes me feel like you consider my first child a failed attempt.
2) I had a life threatening pregnancy, so I will be high-risk for the rest of my life. There are many personal and medical factors going into this.
3) A family's reproductive choices and struggles are none of your business.

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"When my dog died, I was really sad until I got another one."


Screw you and your dog.

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"Are you okay? Like, are things getting back to normal?"


I'm going to be asking you the same thing in about 5 minutes after I dislocate your nose.

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"Do you want to hold my baby?"


Literally no. Especially if your baby is a newborn or if he or she is close to what age my son would be if he was still alive. Another reason is because I have never liked any kids that aren't related to me. So no, I don't want to hold your baby. Hard pass.

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I don't want this post to seem like I only dwell on the hurtful things. I received many, many, many incredibly helpful messages, cards, meals, letters, flowers, gifts, and had lots meaningful conversations. This post is meant to help people recognize that unfortunately their "go-to" comfort comments often do more harm than good, regardless of their intentions.


Here are a few of the words that helped:



"I am so sorry for your loss."

"I will not pretend to have any idea what you're going through."

"I know there's nothing I can say or do to make you feel better."

"You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers."

"Thank you for sharing your son's story. It has impacted my life."

"I love witnessing the love you have for your son."

"Will you tell me more about Jett?"

"I'm so thankful I got to meet your sweet baby."

"I dropped off [xyz item] at your door. You're in my prayers."

"Please don't feel obligated to answer this, but I wanted to let you know that I've been thinking about you."





Again, I recognize that this post may make me seem ungrateful, bitter, angry, morbid, and many other things. But the reality is, I go through every one of those emotions every single day. I hope that instead of hardening your heart, you can take this and learn how to better help someone in need of  comfort.

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