Please remember

Please remember,
I love my daughter,
I'll always miss her.

Please remember,
The "old me" is not going to come back,
My daughter's life and death have changed me.

Please remember,
You don't have to fix me,
I am at peace with missing my daughter.

Please remember,
Mentioning Ariella's name is not going to upset me,
It's going to make me smile that you acknowledge her.

Please remember,
How much you take pride in your children,
I am no different to you.

Please remember,
A subsequent pregnancy does not take away the sadness of our daughter's death,
We rejoice over this baby while still grieving the death of our first.

Please remember,
This baby is not going to "fix" us,
We will always be aware of what we missed with our first baby.

Please remember,
I am not going to get over our daughter's death,
I will get through it, but I'll always miss her because I will always love her.

Please. Remember.

Day 3 of Capture Your Grief: Myths

She literally backed away

If I wasn't already convinced that we need to break the silence around stillbirth, I am now. Recently I met a lady who I hadn't seen since before Ariella was born. I don't know her very well, and we don't share many of the same social circles. As she was walking past a room, she saw me inside and came over to where I was sitting. She excitedly said "you've had you're baby, haven't you?" and of course, my heart started pounding. I hate having to tell people the bad news, because I feel like it ruins the conversation. So I said to her that yes, I did have our baby. She then asked me what we'd had, and I said that we'd had a girl, but she was stillborn. She very awkwardly said she was sorry, and then starting backing away. Literally. She was still looking at me, but taking backwards steps away from me. It's always hard having to tell people about Ariella's death, but I'm not sure I've ever felt as awkward as I did at that moment, watching her literally back away.

Stillbirth isn't widely talked about, so many people don't know how to react when they hear about it. If you hear about a stillbirth (especially an unexpected one) consider asking what the child's name is, or when their birthday is. If you believe in prayer, maybe tell the parents you will be praying for them (but make sure that if you say this, you follow through and actually pray). Tell them that you are sorry that this happened to them and that you will be thinking of them. Depending on your relationship with them, perhaps you could give them a hug...but ask first! If nothing else, admit that you don't know what to say! 

I know it's hard to hear about a baby who was stillborn. When I hear of a friend's loss, it hits me hard. I feel as though I stumble backwards in shock. It's ok to feel that, just please don't actually do that. Please don't back away...

What NOT to say

A lot of people have told me that they just don't know what to say to me or my husband. And that's ok, I understand that. It's a sucky situation that people don't often have to face (although miscarriage, stillbirth and neonatal death are more common than you'd think - see my post on that here). I thought about writing a list of things that would be helpful to say, but that's going to take a while to get all my thoughts down in a way that would be helpful. It's so much easier to think of things that we have been told that were no help at all. 

So without further ado, here are my top three things NOT to say to bereaved parents (in my opinion).

1. Nothing. Don't stay silent, even if you don't know what to say. If you really are stuck for words, say "I don't know what to say". Even something as simple as 'liking' a post or photo on Facebook lets me know that you have seen or thought about my precious daughter. 

2. Everything happens for a reason. We were told this two days after Ariella's birth, which means it was only four days after we knew she had died. It did NOT help. I believe God can and does cause all things to work for the good of those who love Him, which means He can bring good out of my daughter's death. However, I do not believe that any resulting good is the reason Ariella died. This may or may not be theologically correct (although I think it is). Some parents may like to think their child died for a reason, and that is more than ok. I believe good will come from my child's death, but that doesn't mean I want to hear that it happened for a reason. If you have to say it, please don't say it within the first few weeks.

3. Do not tell a parent who lost their firstborn that it was a practice run. Oh yes, I was told that "although it's hard to think of it that way, treat it as a practice". I wasn't hurt as much as I was offended. Ariella was not a practice run, she was a child. My 39 weeks of pregnancy weren't a pretend time to prepare me for a "proper" pregnancy later (trust me, the morning sickness was real, just ask my ever-patient and caring hubby!). Her birth wasn't some form of training for a "real" birth - I experienced labour and birth just as much as a mother whose child lives. Thankfully I've only heard this once, and it doesn't seem common. But please, do not say anything to parents that will imply their child did not count. Because every child counts.


So there you have it ladies and gentlemen, my top three things that I do not want to hear. I'm sure there are plenty more that other parents could add. And sometime soon I'll let you know what is helpful to hear.

When people don't respond

Most people have been amazing since Ariella was born. But a few people haven't...it's not a case of them saying the wrong thing, but of them saying nothing at all.
Old friends who used to be close. Newer friends who were so excited about my pregnancy. People in both categories have literally said nothing.
Most days I don't let that bug me. But sometimes, especially after a hard day, it really hurts.
The silence is deafening.
So rather than dwell on those who haven't said anything, tonight I'm going to focus on the good:
*The friend who brings over hot chocolate sachets.
*The friend who takes over a job so I can go home early.
*The friend who asks me how my day was and chooses to comfort me in my grief rather than cheer me up.
*The friends from an online parents group who gave us a few weeks worth of meals and numerous other things to help, even though I'd never met most of them
*The mums I've met through this blog and support groups, who know what to say and when.
*My husband, who is so caring even when he's hurting.
*My God, who comforts me and keeps my little girl safe.
I am blessed.