I have thought about writing this post for a while and I feel almost prompted to do it. Now that I am a few months away from the pain, I can see things a little bit easier. This post should be taken with a grain of salt because clearly, everyone is different and might now want or need the same things that I did. But this is what worked for me.
1. Don't overwhelm.I didn't want to see anyone for weeks after it happened besides Nathan and my sister. I hardly left the house. I didn't want to. And that's okay! There were a few people who came by and it just drained and upset me. I had a lot more people asking to come by and I continually told them I wasn't ready. I could tell this hurt some people's feelings, but I just couldn't do it. Anytime I saw someone, I cried. Or felt the need to pretend like everything was okay, which it wasn't. So don't rush over to their house immediately. Definitely DON'T come to the hospital. (Yes, I had people asking to come to the hospital. One who I wasn't very close with). And don't get upset if they aren't wanting you to come over or returning your phone calls. A lot of the time, space is the best thing.
2. Don't do nothing. Tragedy is so hard to deal with and I know that people on the other end feel helpless. There are no magic words, so don't try. What meant the most to me were the constant texts and emails and cards and phone calls and beautiful flower arrangements and surprises on my door step. I got my space, but I still knew people were thinking of me and praying for me and loving me. There were certain people who we heard nothing from for weeks, months, and even some who have yet to contact us, and it really hurt me. I'm sure they just didn't know what to say, but really all I needed was a simple "I'm thinking of you." It meant the world. We had so many people send packages or leave treats on our door step. They were the perfect comfort. One of my dearest friends, Katie, would often just simply text me and ask what number today was on a scale from 1 to 10. On my 10 days she wouldn't try to fix things, she would just tell me she was sorry or let me vent. My mom texted or called me every single day even if it was just for a second and it's what I needed. I didn't want to see anyone, but I didn't want to be alone.
3. Don't try to lessen their painThat sounds weird, but here's what I mean. These were a few comments I got from very well-meaning people:
"You are so skinny! If you had carried the full 9 months you probably would have gained a lot more weight, so that's nice."
I would gladly weight 400 pounds if it meant my baby were alive.
"At least you didn't get to know the baby first."
Thanks for reminding me I didn't get to know my baby.
"Now you can teach another year and get your level 2 license!"
Oh, great!
"She's in a better place."
Yeah, I still want her here.
"She doesn't have to live on this crappy planet!"
Yeah, I still want her here.
"So it was just a cord accident? Well that's a relief that is wasn't something more serious!"
Yeah, death isn't all that serious, huh?
"I love my kids so much, I would die if that happened to me."
Is this a compliment? Because it kinda sounds like I didn't love my baby enough.
"At least you know you can get pregnant. Some people can't have babies, so be thankful for that."
True. Infertility is a tragedy I cannot fathom. But really? Is that what I need to hear right now?
I know all of these facts are true. Believe me, I have counted my blessings many times that we didn't lose her to SIDS, or that we knew prior to going into labor, or that she wasn't born with a birth defect only to die a few days later. I know she's in a better place. I know my wanting her here is a bit selfish. But that doesn't change the fact that I want her here. Someone pointing out to me how much worse my situation could be (like heaven forbid I be fat!) doesn't make my pain go away. It only makes me angry.
4. "I know exactly what you're going through."These words should only be uttered if you do, in fact, know
exactly what the person is going through. So unless you also had a third trimester stillborn, you don't really know exactly what I'm going through. I am not trying to demean anyone else's pain, (like said above) but when someone is grieving, they don't need to hear you compare your loss of a 5 week pregnancy to your 35 week stillborn. Or even worse, the pain they feel from their
sister's miscarriage 12 years ago to the pain you feel over your very recent stillbirth. (Yes, a woman told me she knew what I as going through because her sister lost a baby 12 years ago). I think we all feel the need to relate to others, but our pains and challenges are very different, and that's okay! I would never tell a woman who lost her 2-year-old that I know exactly what she's going through, because I have no idea. Just like I would never tell a woman who is struggling with infertility or who has had miscarriages that I know what she's going through, because I don't! I'm not saying anyone's pain is less than mine, I'm saying it's different. I love and appreciate everyone who has been so kind to me, but it got hard to hear people trying to compare their pain to mine.
5. Don't ask them if they want to hold your baby.Seriously. I got this all the time. As if holding your child would somehow fill the void in my life. Showing me tons of pictures of your baby doesn't make me feel better either.
6. Respect that babies and pregnancy and hospitals might be a touchy subject for a long timeI think some people feel like there is a certian time period that the person has to be okay again. Not so much.
7. Don't over-do the sympathyI had some people who, when the saw me again for the first time, hugged me for 10 minutes and would stare into my eyes and say, "how
are you?" in that ridiculous, overly-sympathetic voice and go on for 30 minutes about how strong I was and then hug me again and tell me how
terrible it all is and then hug me again... seriously? All it would do was make me cry. Again.
8. Don't act like nothing happenedAgain, this is finding balance between two extremes. Death is a taboo subject, especially when it comes to children because it's just so tragic. So some people want to ignore it. You don't have to bring it up in strange ways, (True story, the first question one woman asked me when she saw me for the first time without even saying hi was, "how come you didn't have a funeral?" Manners, people) but just a simple "I'm so sorry for your loss, I hope you're doing well," then segue into normal people talk. Our bishop asked Nathan why I wasn't back in relief society yet, (it took me a few months to be able to go in there with all the babies and talks about being a mother) and then told Nathan I could sit in the back and he would tell everyone not to talk to me if that made me feel more comfortable. How would being ignored make me feel better??
9. Be strong for themHere I am crying just as I type this because I am still overwhelmed by the love of my family, friends, and husband. Losing Madelyn was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I have ever gone through. I still cry all the time just thinking about what I have lost. I've always been someone who tried to lighten the tension and make people laugh. I have a hard time needing others. When this happened, I needed others. Bad. They were in pain too, but knew that I needed them and they rose to the occasion. I could only imagine how much those close to me were hurting. My sister-in-law, Amanda, used a line from "
The Fault in Our Stars" to describe it. She said, "we were all wounded in your battle." My mom later told me that she cried so hard, she's pretty sure she terrified my little brother. Both my sisters said they were up the entire night crying. My dear, sweet little sister showed up at the hospital the morning I was induced with puffy, red eyes, but never wavered. She kept us company and helped us laugh. She stayed until I gave birth, even having her husband drive out and they slept in our apartment for a few hours before rushing back so that Jessica could hold her niece. My mom flew out immediately, no questions asked. She slept on a little love seat so that she never left my side. My big, tough little brother was overheard telling a friend that he had been quiet and sad at school that day because his sister had lost her baby. The rest of our family had to watch from the sidelines, which was probably even worse, since they lived so far, but they sent so much love through calls, prayers, packages, and texts. Kelsey in Arizona fielded all the calls from my family, Jenna fielded all the calls from friends, and Katie took care of my "MG" calls, so that I didn't have to deal with constant questions and requests for updates. Although our loved ones were in so much pain, they stood strong for us because we couldn't stand on our own. They will never know how much their strength meant to me, when I had none. It's hard to explain how you feel when you are so completely gutted and empty, but other people fill you up with their love. It's beautiful. It's an absolute miracle.
Nathan was, and is, my biggest supporter in this whole thing. He lost a baby too that day, but he has been so strong for me. He slept (neither of us really slept) on the hard, hospital floor and held my hand the entire night. He has had his moments where he has broken down, and then it's my turn to step up. We are quite the team. I can't begin to explain the ways this has strengthen our love and our relationship.
10. Pray for themSometimes when it hurts too much or you have no idea what to do, just pray. Every prayer counts. And I felt the power from all those prayers from people of many different faiths. They gave me legs to stand on. They gave me courage. They healed my heart.
I feel almost mean writing some of this because really, I have had very little encounter with rude people and even the ones who said rude things had very good intentions. I write this more to help others when ones they love experience loss like this. I want to write it now while I remember how it all felt. We really were so blessed by the people in our lives. It makes me emotional just to think about the outpouring of love we received. We could never have survived without the love of friends, family, coworkers, and sometimes even complete strangers.
Random story #1: I had to pee in the middle of the night. The bathroom is way down the road so instead I made Nathan follow me into the woods with a flashlight while I peed in the bushes. TMI? Don't care. Anyway, it was pitch black and it sounded like someone walked past us and we freaked out and Nathan shone the light on the trail and there was a giant buck there! Like.. huge antlers, as big as a horse! It was so cool! And pretty scary because he would rip us apart. But he let us pee in peace.
