Baby loss Archives Category for Cora's Story >> Congenital Heart Defects, Advocacy and Baby Loss

I thought long before using that word, segregate. I paused because I wanted to honor it’s connections to groups that have been beyond “segregated,” they’ve been terrorized and belittled openly and blatantly in world history. I want you to know before I start that I’m in no way comparing what I’m talking about below to the segregation that’s occurred to other groups in this country.

Don’t push us away and point us to this group or that group for “moms like us.” Sure most of us (moms to children that died) do gain support from each other, but we wouldn’t be in your space if we didn’t want to. If we didn’t feel a connection to YOU. Moms to live children.

Months after Cora died, I traveled to an event where there were many other parents of congenital heart defect children, only almost all of their children were alive.

I’ll never forget the feeling, the being pushed away. Being told oh yes, we have a small group for parents like you.

It’s congenital heart defect awareness week, and I know there are hurting parents like me because I’ve read their statuses. They feel forgotten. Worst of all, they feel like there is no place for their children.

A nice woman that runs a huge Facebook page for mothers not in any way CHD or special needs focused, I’m assuming  from how things have gone down there it’s a page for mothers of live children, posted today that once a month mothers were welcome to post pictures of their dead children. Once a month.

You want us to leave.

You don’t want to read our sad stories.

You want us to huddle together in sadness in the corner.

We don’t deserve that.

It’s nuanced. You don’t tell us we can only drink from that drinking fountain. You don’t make us wear a gold star, but it’s there. Again, absolutely no comparison to the segregation and racism other groups have gone through.

But that doesn’t mean there’s not a level of hurt.

Instead you avoid us. You give us a day to share our children. You mention a special group for shiny special moms like us.

If we chose to be a part of your group for mothers, or this support group for children that had a condition like ours, you’re just going to have to deal with it.

Sadly, our babies could have been your baby.

Your next baby could be ours.

We didn’t do anything to deserve this.

If we can’t handle your group and your live babies, we won’t join. Your intentions are good. But unless our child died the day before, we’ve been handed that slip of paper or that private message with names of those groups a million times. If we need a support group, we’ll ask for recommendations  We’re big girls.

When we pop up, don’t tell us over and over there are such and such support groups for mothers like us. Say I’m sorry and give us a hug, or a virtual one if it’s online.

Sure there will be awkward moments, but that’s life.

Learn to embrace us.

Most of all, don’t push us away.

We’re grieving mothers, but that phrase should be mothers grieving, because first and foremost we are mothers.

My life has been one of great loss. My father when I was a child. Cora nearly three years ago, my grandmother and father-in-law this summer. However, death isn’t something you grow used to it. It’s not something that gets easier to handle with more loss.

When someone dies, people want to help. And they do. I know people are good because I’ve been through enough loss to know. The best of humanity comes out when you lose someone.

When Ben’s dad died, people showed up with food, stories and a shoulder to lean on. It’s been amazing. They’ve been great.

I’m going to talk about something today I want to be careful presenting. It’s something I do too, but I hope it’s something to think about.

We get a lot of “call if you need anything.” It’s super sweet. Truth is, we don’t know what we need. We probably won’t remember you saying so. Sadly, some of the people coming around, we might not ever see again. It’s just how it goes.

I know people want to help. I get it, and I’m so grateful and appreciative.

However, when someone dies, just think about how you can help and do it. We won’t call people for things, it’s just not how we are.

I know people become afraid to call or to stop by fearing they’re imposing or interrupting. You won’t be.

Call us.

Tell us you’ll call us (and by us I don’t mean this situation in particular with Ben’s dad, I mean the bereaved in general). Set a date you’ll call us and do it. Even if it’s a short phone call. Even if we don’t answer the phone. If we don’t answer. Call again in a few days.

I’d love to see people change the normal, “If you need anything, call me” to “If you need anything call me, and I’ll be checking in on YOU.” Don’t put it on the bereaved to reach out.

If you really want to help, keep checking in.

Call us. We might not answer today or tomorrow or next week, but we will see that you called, and one day we will answer.

Thanks to everyone that’s been there for us. Again, this isn’t a personal post, it’s about something I’ve noticed with grief in general. I just want to help grieving people.

Comments are closed on this blog. I would love to hear from you though, don’t hesitate to reach out on the Cora’s Story Facebook page.

I’ve written about this topic so many times, I wondered if I should revisit, but I think this is an important post.

A few months ago, I published a short eBook about helping your friend when her baby dies, based on many of the posts I’ve written on this blog. I was nervous to publish it, and sat on it for several weeks. See, baby loss moms are all different. There is no manual for how to treat us.

But, every day the searches poured in from people looking for information about how to help their friends. Every day, I read at least one status or note from a baby loss mom that felt unsupported by her friends. I knew I had to do something to help. So I published it. And held my breath. I was blown away by how well received the booklet was. It was needed.

Sadly, just weeks after I published it, one of my friend’s baby died. It was unexpected, and fairly sudden. All of the sudden, I needed to use my own advice. At first, I worried the book was a load of rubbish. Some of the things I said almost seemed to upset her. She didn’t answer my messages sometimes, was it because she hated me? I didn’t know what to say most of the time. I thought about just going away and waiting for her to reach out. But, part of me knew that was absolutely the least helpful thing I could do.

I followed my own advice. I thought both of my experience, and mainly of her. I kept reaching out. I let her lead me. I asked her questions.

I remembered her daughter. I honored her daughter. I loved her daughter, whom I never got to meet.

I didn’t judge her. I didn’t prod her to move on or do anything at any pace but her own.

Later, she told me in such a genuine and loving way how much I’d helped.

I’ve been on both sides of this, and have a new appreciation for the difficulties of being a friend. Believe me, nothing compared to actually going through it.

I think the number one lesson learned is that you have to set aside your own ego. Don’t dwell on if your friend is “mad at you.” She’s almost certainly not. You’re thinking too much of yourself. I made that mistake. This isn’t about you. I think this is universal advice for helping a friend through any sort of hardship. Give up yourself, and let it be 100 percent about what is best for your friend. Bend over backwards. Your back will be much stronger for doing so, and so will your friendship.

Sign up to get the book “When Your Friend’s Baby Dies,” emailed to you for free. (Scroll down past the cover of the book for instructions.

Since I wrote them, the posts about helping a friend through babyloss are reached every single day from people searching for information about helping a friend after her baby dies. I see the search queries, and wonder if they found what they needed. A girl needs a good friend after her baby dies, and often she doesn’t get one. I don’t think it’s usually because her friends are jerks, but because they don’t know what to do.

I came up with the idea of writing a book of everything I’ve written in those posts, and more. Something friends could print or leaf through on their tablets. It’s been a few months since I began working on the book. It’s been done for weeks. I’ve sat it on it for awhile.

See, we’re all so different. By telling friends how to help, would I be sending the message that there’s a correct way to grieve? There’s no manual about how to parent a dead child, so how could there be one about helping a friend through that loss? I went back and forth about rather I would share it at all.

After much thought and internal debate, I decided I should share, with a disclaimer that I’m a. no expert and b. all moms are different and I don’t want them pushed into a little grief box.

People want this information. I have a perspective they’re seeking. I hope that my message is clear. I just want to help get grieving moms the support they need.

The book is free. You are free to share it, distribute it and link to it, with some caveats, you may not change any of it, you may not claim it as yours and you may not charge for it. Scroll down to get it emailed to you.

To Get the free eBooklet:

1. Enter your email below and hit “Enter”
2. Wait for a confirmation email that you signed up to get the ebook.
3. Press the link in the email to confirm.
4. A link to the eBook will be emailed to you in a welcome email.

Update: I’m so blown away by the response to this eBook. I published it in the middle of the night with relatively slight promo, and have been getting emails, messages and comments all day. Tells me it was a needed resource. I want to make it more widely available, so I put the booklet on Amazon.com in Kindle format. Unfortunately, you have to charge at least $2.99, so that’s what it’s priced at. I can make it free for five days, and when I do, I’ll share through my Facebook and Twitter that it’s free that day if you want it on your Kindle or tablet. The book will always be free to download and share in the method described above.

A few months after Cora died, I wrote a series of posts about how friends can help and what they can do after a baby dies. They’re some of the more popular posts on this site.

Many people find their way here after a Google search for things like what to say when a friend’s child dies, or what to do when a friend’s child dies.

I’m writing about it again because I see all those internet searches that lead people here and can’t help but feel for them. There’s no rule book about this. I’m writing this follow up for you, the random visitor finding your way from Google, desperate to help your friend.

And, common etiquette won’t tell us much because baby loss and how people cope isn’t something normally talked about. I’m also finding that what people might expect to be true from a grieving friend isn’t always true. Before going through this, I would have thought to wait a few days before calling after the baby dies and to give the family time to grieve.

After going through this, I advise the opposite. I know having visitors in and out the door the day Cora died helped. I don’t know what I would have done without my large extended family that day. When I wasn’t up for visitors, I told my mom and she screened people away.

I don’t even feel qualified to write this. So many mothers traveled this road before me and could give better advice about how to help with a friend’s child dies.

I think more than anything, I’m writing about it today because I’m so moved seeing those searches. Seeing how many people want to help, but just don’t know how.

I hope my original series of posts is helpful. I go into more specific ways friends can help.

And, by asking, even if it’s by asking Google and reading about baby loss, you’re already helping. You’re taking some of the burden and awkwardness away from the grieving parent. At first even small decisions were nearly impossible to make. And, even now, I freeze when people ask how they can help or what they should do. It does feel like a burden, and not much of a help.

I totally look up to people that find my blog looking for ways to help. It takes real effort to spend time doing some research about it and shows that you realize your friend needs you.

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This is the post in my series about helping a friend/neighbor/acquaintance through child loss I’ve fretted about the most. Please, don’t take offense or feel bad if you’ve said some of these things. Truth is, I’m guilty of saying some of them. Before I lost Cora, I had no clue what to say to someone that lost a child.

Just like I still probably say insensitive things to elderly folks or people suffering serious illness. Unless you’ve been there, you just don’t quite know what to say, problem is, mourning moms and dads are so sensitive, saying the wrong thing can set off a temper tantrum or crying fit. Talk to them and communicate. Ask if it’s okay to say or ask certain things when in doubt.

And, remember every family is different, some families might find comfort in some of these words. I didn’t make this list lightly, much thought of my own, a lot of online discussion about what to and not to say, and hours of worry go into this post. In fact, I’ve got a knot in my stomach right now while writing it. I don’t like “speaking” for all moms and dads. Because, truth is, I can’t. Everyone is different.
 
Let’s pull off the band aid. If you’re guilty of saying any of these, don’t wallow in guilt, to reiterate, I say stupid things sometimes, too.

1. Bad: “God wanted your baby/it’s your karma/your baby was needed by someone else/your baby will be reincarnated.”

Why not say this? I know some parents that do find comfort in these sayings, but a lot of parents get super mad. Even parents that are really religious dislike this wording immensely. This is probably the most controversial on the list. Take your cues from the parents, if they say things like God called my child home, etc, then of course join in, but if they never say anything remotely like that, do not say that a deity/order/anything “wanted” or “needed” their child. They don’t want to believe that God wanted their child. I was told that my karma wasn’t strong enough by a Buddhist, which made me super mad. I was told God wanted Cora, and started to wonder what he wanted with a baby. Religion is like a shining light to many parents, but don’t “blame” God or any other deity. This is no slam on anything religious. I’m actually less offended by this than by the hundreds of parents that have told me they hurt so bad when they hear that.

Say this instead: I’m praying for you. I’m sending you and your family so much love and light. If you’re religious, I’d love to participate in a religious ceremony with you, just tell me what you want to do. Your little angel is so precious and adorable. May I say a prayer, or light a candle for your child at my church? (As a side note, I’m so proud of the tree that was planted in Israel for Cora, the prayer cloth made from a good friend, the Buddhist prayer cloth given to us by a friend, all very special to me.)

2. Bad: “There will be other babies, you’re young.” 

Why not say this? My baby wasn’t “a baby.” She was my daughter. A person. I don’t want to think about other babies, I want to think about her.

Say this instead: You’re a wonderful mother/father. Your child is so lucky to have you as a parent. I miss your baby.

3. Bad: “It was meant to be for a reason.”

Why not say this? What reason could possibly justify the death of a child. I believe good things can come from Cora’s death because that’s all that gets me through the day.

Say this instead: Your child will never be forgotten and is going to leave such a huge impact. I promise to never forget your baby. I’m here for any sort of memorial you want to make.


4. Bad: “I understand exactly what you’re going through…” (this one should be marked SUPER bad).

Why not say this? I’ve had people liken Cora’s death from everything to pet death to the time in first grade they stubbed their toe. RELATING is NORMAL and GOOD. PLEASE share your stories of your loved one. But, you don’t know EXACTLY what I’m feeling. No one does, not even my husband or other people that lost children. Don’t pretend you know exactly how I feel.

Say this instead: I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I’m here to listen and to try to understand. I went through a situation once and although it wasn’t the same, I think I learned something that might help you. I’m so sorry. I lost a child too, and each loss is unique, but I’ll share anything I can with you. There’s no manual for losing a child, I’ll always be here to help.


5. Bad: “You’ll get over this and move on. It’s time to move on.” (Or anything that puts a time limit on grief).
 
Why not say this? I’m not ill, I won’t get better. I won’t move on. I think one day I’ll go from crawling back to walking. But, I’m forever changed.

Say this instead: Any way you grieve is normal. You take your time. Put no pressure on yourself. I’m here to listen. Do you think a group might help, I can find some in your area. Would a walk or drive with me help? I’ll come over and sit with you. I love you.

6. Bad: “It will be okay.”

Why not say this? It won’t be okay. Saying so makes me feel like you’re undermining me grief, my loss. What will be okay, exactly? My crushed soul?

Say this instead: I’m so, so sorry. I weep with you. I feel for you. I’m here for you, always and forever.

7. Bad: “It’s for the best after all that pain.”

Why not say this? This one is just plain stupid. Even if they child was ill, no parent wants to hear that it was “for the best” or that their child lived in constant pain.

Say this instead: If the child was in the hospital, or sick you can say things such as: your little one is healed now, or beautiful child feels no pain. Again, take cues from the parents, they might say things like at least he or she is in no pain, go ahead and agree. But, watch your wording, reminding the family that their child was in pain isn’t the best way to provide comfort.


8. Bad: “Was this your only child?”

Why not say this? What does that matter? Asking makes it seem that if you have other children, the loss is lessened. And, if you have no other children, your loss is somehow worse. This logic is beyond faulty and just plain stupid. The question might naturally come up in conversation but should not be the first thing you ask the grieving couple.

Say this instead: I’m so sorry. How old was your child? When is their birthday? What are some of your favorite memories of the child? How are your child’s brothers and sisters coping? Would a play date with my children help them?

9. Bad: “You’ll be a mother again one day.” Or “So and so used to be a mother…” 

Why not say this? BIG MOMMA BEAR GROWL. I AM a mother. YOU and no one else can take that away from me. Once you’re a mother, you’re always a mother. I highly suggest you don’t say this to me. I’ll correct you each and every time. Cora IS my daughter. I AM her mother.

Say this instead: You are the best mom ever. You are an amazing mom. Do you want join my mom’s only Web site? You’re one of my best mommy friends. I am so lucky to have you as a friend. A group of friends on Twitter and elsewhere welcomed me to the mom club and never “kicked” me out. They know. I’m still a mom. Never kick out a “childless” mom.

Keep in mind two things: people in grief tend to be uber sensitive but saying something is also usually better than saying nothing. It’s a fine line and takes a gentle, caring soul to reach out to a grieving parent. But, I know you’re up to it. Just by reading this blog post, you’ve proven you care. I cry when someone looks at me the wrong way, literally, so be extra gentle, but do reach out. This can be a lonely, lonely world sometimes.

What do you think? Is my list accurate? Do we need to make some revisions or additions? I’d love to hear from people that have and have not lost a child.

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Shortly after Cora died, Melinda from Earth Mama, Angel Baby sent me a gift pack of healing mist, tea, and more. I used all and to this day spray the healing mist and notice a difference. Earth Mama, Angel Baby products are all organic, sending the “No More Milk Tea” in the days after the loss of a baby could make a real difference in Momma’s life. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I loved the products so much, I signed up to be affiliate and do receive a portion of sales from my Web site.

Disclaimer: Again, this post isn’t focused at one person in my life or even a group of people. No hard feelings. Just trying to help.

Yesterday, I started the series with an overview of how you can be a friend to a friend that loses a child. After a day of reflection, I’ve pulled out three main points from that post.

1. No family grieves the same. Each loss is unique. You never really know how the family feels.
2. The family needs to be covered in love after the loss and for many months. I’ve met new friends through this, lost old ones, and become closer to people I barely knew before. If you are mentally able to help (remember to take care of yourself), reach out no matter how well you know or don’t know them.
3. General offers of “if you need something, call” or “let me know how I can help” aren’t helpful at all.

I’ve been thinking much about number 3. I think it’s worth it’s own post, so I’m calling this part 1.5. I know that you want to help your friend but have no clue what to do.

And, as well intented as offers of “call if you need me” seem. You’ll probably never get a call, and you’ll be left worried about your friend/neighbor/acquaintance wishing you could do something. And, your friend will be left needing your help.

Here’s why. Grief is a daily battle. Personally, my head spins. I don’t know what day it is half the time much less how you can help. When you ask, “how can I help?” I get some anxiety. How can I find a job for the person asking? If I don’t find a way for this person to help, they’re going to feel left out. And, I’ll think to myself, I do NEED help. But, what do I do? How do I answer? I don’t want to put them out. I’ll just say I don’t need anything. Needless to say the kind gesture sets off a series of self-doubts and as someone that likes to help others, of course I’m always going to answer, “you are helping” even if you aren’t. (A moment of blog honesty).

So, instead, don’t ask how to help, just start doing and ask permission as you go. Of course, don’t use their child’s name or photos without their permission or rummage through their home, but offer specific examples instead of saying, “call if you need me.” This will make you BOTH feel better. You’ll be able to help like you so need to and the other person will feel loved and comforted.

The day and days after the loss…
1. Listen. Be willing to listen. I know, hearing about a dead or dying child is HARD. But, show compassion and listen for your friend. They might NEED to talk about their child. Some people don’t want to. Take cues, but if your friend starts to talk about the child, don’t stop them or change the subject. This one goes from as soon as the child dies to infinity. A good friend is there to listen.
2. Call, show up at the home, just go. Don’t assume the family is busy. As I mentioned in the first post in this series, if the family is busy they’ll simply not answer the phone. But be there for them and put no pressure on them to feed you, listen to you, or even accept your visit.
3. Rub the Mom’s feet (or hands or shoulders if you aren’t a foot person). My aunt offered to do this the day Cora died. I refused. She insisted. It felt amazing. Soon I turned into a demon and demanded my sister rub my feet every day for a week straight.
4. Bring food. Yes, I didn’t eat for a day or two, but other people did, I think. And, I remember having huge amounts of food to offer to my guests.
5. Offer to watch any other children for a few hours or moments. The parents may or may not want to be far from their children. Offer to watch the children in the same building as the parents so they aren’t far.
6. Ask if the parents have someone to go to the funeral home to make arrangements with them. Ben and I insisted on doing this on our own. But, it just might be the hardest meeting of one’s life. At least an offer to go is nice.
7. Take care of travel arrangements for guests coming in out of town. Ask about specific relatives and if you can set up housing and transportation for them. One of my aunts provided us with hotel rooms. We were so grateful.
8. Bring flowers or trinkets.
9. Write a letter and mail it to the family with a heartfelt message of how much the child means.
10. If visiting start cleaning, the family might say, oh no don’t we have it, but just go ahead. I didn’t do my dishes for a month after Cora died and they were always clean. Have no clue who did them.
11. Give money. The death of a child is expensive. Cora’s funeral services were all donated. (Thanks Zwick and Jahn!) but the costs still mounted. When all else fails, hand the couple a card and a $20 bill.
12. Listen, listen, listen.
13. Make sure the mail is picked up and orderly every day. I still think I’ve lost some mail… If any of my family or friends know about it…
14. Offer to stay at the home during the child’s funeral or find someone to house sit. Unfortunately, many homes are broken into during funerals because the address of the family and the time of the funeral are printed in the local newspaper. Our house was also unlocked most of the time with people coming and going, we were ripe for burglary.
15. Give recommendations for florists and caterers for the funeral; offer to make phone calls for the practical parts of organizing a funeral and the dinner after.
16. Help with organization. I haven’t written thank you cards yet. Three months later. Because I don’t want to forget someone. I didn’t write down who did and gave what in any sort of organized way. Create a spreadsheet and offer to update it or post it somewhere easy to jot down whom helped where.
17. Listen some more. What is the family saying they need? One night, my husband joked about suspenders and his pants getting saggy. The next day, my friend bought him a pair. He wore them and actually really liked them.
18. Bring over some more food. Keep it coming. Bring over a meal a week if you are able.
19. Ask to learn more about the child, if the family seems willing, ask to see the child’s cloths, the nursery. I love to show Cora’s things.
20. Buy your friend a journal. Perhaps they’re reserved and would rather write than talk, help them.
21. If you’re into social media or blogging, show them how to do so. Many mothers blog about their grief. I know it helps me.

The first year…
22. Keep listening. Never give the family a time period of grief. You might find closure at the funeral in your grief for the child, but the family’s journey is just starting.
23. Send notes and letters of encouragement.
24. Send more money. Time taken off work. Losing jobs Trouble finding jobs. Mounting bills. I hate to say it, but financial help is great help for almost all families during this time.
25. Make keepsakes and remembrances like pictures and Christmas ornaments and anything with the child’s picture.
26. Stop by once in a while. I don’t go out. Anywhere. I won’t necessarily answer the phone and invite you over, but if you stop by, I’m always happy to see you.
27. Celebrate the big days. Most families I know have trouble each month on the day the child was born and the day the child died. Remember the child that day.
28. Please don’t stop calling. Even if your phone calls rarely get returned. Keep calling.
29. Send pictures of the child you might have that they didn’t have. Make copies and frame them.
30. Write a note with all of your memories of the child or baby.
31. Don’t be afraid to cry, to laugh, or to zone out. It’s okay to show your emotions. It’s also okay to laugh and be silly.
32. Lower your expectations. I’m going through a social anxiety phase. I don’t want to see anyone. Don’t expect me to want to meet up. But, also don’t assume I don’t want to participate in normal activities like going to the movies. Keep calling.
33. Show up unannounced with a flowers and a broom. Offer to clean the entire house.
34. Take any other children for an afternoon or evening.
35. Don’t let your own ego get in the way. If your friend doesn’t call, don’t get mad. If she calls other friends but not you, don’t take it personally.
36. Make the mom a nice cup of tea.
37. Look up healing recipes and wholesome nutrition send them to your friend.
38. Find yoga poses or other exercises that help with emotional healing and share them with the family.
39. Write a note saying how you feel. Even if you never met the child, tell the parents how much their baby or child meant to you.
40. Buy the parents a massage. A nice, healing massage.
41. If a massage isn’t in your budget, by some nice bath soap or foot soak.
42. Ask questions. Ask what the child or baby was like. Let the family talk about how the baby acted.
43. Forgive abrasive, even rude comments. Give your friend room to go through the angry phase of grief. (Of course, don’t deal with abuse, but give your friend a longer leash).

For years to come…
44. Don’t assume your friend will get better. Life is changed. Ten years later and she might overnight fall to pieces. Don’t judge or tell her she needs help or she’s abnormal. This is normal.
45. Carry the child with you. Appreciate your children even more because of what your friend went through. Tell the family you do so.
46. Remember the big days. Make something for the child’s birthday, make Christmas ornaments or Easter eggs, or other holiday stuff for the child.
47. Don’t try to “top their story” by butting in with the story of a “more horrific” loss or another child that died. Listen to them.
48. Keep sending random cards and notes of love and encouragement.
49. Ask permission to make videos or photo slide shows.
50. Many families start foundations or hold events in memory of their child. Participate!
51. Send flowers on the child’s birthday. Make sure to remember the child’s birthday in some way. Even an email if you’re busy. It will always be a tough day for the family.
52. Let the parents and family talk about their child as much as they’d like. As one grieving parent told me, “My son is only truly gone when his memory no longer exists.” 

Special thanks to everyone on Twitter and Facebook that helped with this list. If you helped, leave a comment, you deserve credit! My Twitter and Facebook friends are the smartest people I know, well besides maybe my blog readers, so keep it coming…

Let’s keep this list going, what are your ideas of specific ways to help?

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Shortly after Cora died, Melinda from Earth Mama, Angel Baby sent me a gift pack of healing mist, tea, and more. I used all and to this day spray the healing mist and notice a difference. Earth Mama, Angel Baby products are all organic, sending the “No More Milk Tea” in the days after the loss of a baby could make a real difference in Momma’s life. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I loved the products so much, I signed up to be affiliate and do receive a portion of sales from my Web site.

Huge disclaimer: This isn’t directed to anyone in particular in my life. This actually came about because I noticed so many people crushed at the news their friend or other loved one lost a child. I hope to help friends help friends. If you’ve done any of these things to me or someone else, PLEASE don’t feel bad. I myself find myself saying stupid things to people that have lost a child even still. There is no easy way to help. I know you had only good intentions. This post is to help all those that ask me about what to do after someone they know loses a child or baby.

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You wake up to a phone call, text, or perhaps even a news story, the child or baby of your friend, neighbor, or acquaintance died. I see so many people in social media fret over what to do next. They all express such sadness and seem to really mourn with the family.

This post is for you. Those of you stuck on the outside aching for a family dealing with the worst tragedy imaginable.

For the family of the child or baby that died, grief will last for years, if not a life time. Be a good friend and be in it for the long haul. Here’s how you can help a friend or even acquaintance years down the road.

The first few days after the baby or child dies:

• Call, or if you know the family at all, just go over to the home. I hear so many people wonder if they should call, thinking the family might “be too busy.” The family might be. But, they won’t answer or will keep the phone call short. It’s important for the family to feel covered in love. Stop by and drop off food. If the family doesn’t want guests, they won’t answer the door. Just don’t assume the family is busy with others. Make the family feel like their loss and their child were the most important thing ever. The family needs EVERYONE. It takes a village to mourn the death of a child.

• Make no assumptions. Even if you have dealt with baby loss in your own family, each family is different. Try to steer away from phrases like “I know EXACTLY how you feel,” or to tell the family how they’ll feel down the line. Each little life lost is precious and different so each family reacts and grieves differently. Don’t judge. Anything they do is okay (short of seriously hurting themselves or others, in that case, call the authorities). Instead use phrases like, “I want through something sort of similar, and am here to listen” or “I have no clue how you feel but am here to listen or just to be here.”

• Don’t think you’re “not close” enough with the family to reach out. I get letters from strangers without signatures that mean the world to me. I got visits and phone calls from distant relatives and like that they thought of me. At the same time, I didn’t hear from some of my best friends for days. I think they thought I was spending time with family. If you have the time and resources, reach out.

• Don’t make vague offers of “if there’s anything I can do…” or “I’m here to help…” While you might want to help more than anything, this causes more stress or anxiety. I know you’re also feeling stressed. You want to help but don’t know what to do. Just do. Something. Anything. The family worries about finding jobs for you or worries about offending you. Instead find things to do. Bring food, look for needs. Send a donation. Losing a child is expensive. Ask specific questions like, “do you need help cleaning up after the funeral,” or “would you like me to watch your other children for a few hours?”

• Take care of yourself! Talk about the loss and how it makes you feel. Even if you weren’t that close to the family, you can be deeply affected. At Cora’s funeral, people I’d never even met cried and cried. If necessary, talk to a professional about how you feel. The death of a baby or child can shake the foundations of even friends of friends. It’s okay to grieve with the family and be upset.

The first few months after the baby or child dies:

• Keep those promises! I heard so many “I’ll call” and “We’ll stay in touch now.” Truth is, I rarely get phone calls. Maybe because I rarely answer phone calls. But, I might want to talk one day. I might need you. And, I need to know you’re there. Always. Maybe because I rarely go out or make plans, but who knows maybe I’ll want to one day. So just keep calling. Not stalkerish, but once every week or so for a friend, and every other day for a best friend.

• Don’t think that it’s time to stop talking about the baby or child. When someone dies people seem to start to fear talking about that person at some point. You can talk to me about my baby. In fact, it’s all I want to talk about. As I mentioned above, everyone grieves differently, so if the family doesn’t want to talk about it, use your intuition or simply ask. But, don’t make the situation awkward by refusing to talk about the elephant in the room.

• If you have a few extra dollars send some flowers or a gift certificate or a small trinket or letter. Something in the mail always brightens my day.

• Take some time for yourself. Step away when you need to. Keep yourself healthy for your friend. I feel bad when people tell me they cry for me every day. If you’re following the family online, take a break once in a while. You’ll be a better help when you come back.

• Again, vague offers of “tell me how I can help” make me a little nervous. I want help. Need help. Am so GRATEFUL for help. But, I don’t know how you can help. It still takes all my energy to get out of bed. Try to find specific ways and just do. Ask permission to use the child’s name if you plan a fundraiser or want to use pictures. But, take on planning yourself.

• Make sure your offers to help don’t create more work for the family. Don’t place deadlines on them or plan anything that requires a commitment. Sometimes I’m social, sometimes like this week, I feel a huge ball of anxiety form at the thought of seeing anyone.

Stay with the family for years to come…

• The loss of a child isn’t a sickness. I don’t plan on ever “getting better.” One day I will have to stop crawling through the day and start walking. I know I’ll need my friends and family. Keep the notes and phone calls coming.

• Don’t rush the family through the grief process. Don’t tell them healing will start. Everyone grieves on their own time and that’s okay.

• Don’t push “closure” on the family. Child loss is not a disease. I’m not looking for closure. It won’t get better. Life has changed forever. The family will love and laugh again, but will be forever changed.

• Talk about the child or baby. I’ll never want to stop talking about Cora. If the family seems uncomfortable, simply ask if they’d rather not talk about their child. If they start to talk about the baby, don’t change the subject. Ask questions and listen.
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Most importantly, don’t use the above advice, or any advice about “dealing” with someone that lost a child as steadfast. Each family is different. Go with your gut. Just make sure to reach out to them, show love and support, and don’t place any expectations on them.

You can help your friend/neighbor/acquaintance and even if you don’t know what to say or do, just saying or doing something makes a world of difference. Any gesture no matter how small or large will be appreciated and treasured more than you can imagine.

This is the start of a series I’m starting to help friends help friends. Later in the week, I’m going to write a list of some things to not say to someone that lost a child. How else can I help? Do you have any more questions about what to do when someone loses a child? And, for those in this sad club, do you have anything to add, or do you disagree with anything I wrote? If you’d like, you can ask your questions anonymously using the “Ask Away” box on the sidebar of this blog. 

I’m always available via email for questions and help at Kristine@corasstory.org.

Resources: A vlog from Momervastion about what to say after the loss of a child. 

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Shortly after Cora died, Melinda from Earth Mama, Angel Baby sent me a gift pack of healing mist, tea, and more. I used all and to this day spray the healing mist and notice a difference. Earth Mama, Angel Baby products are all organic, sending the “No More Milk Tea” in the days after the loss of a baby could make a real difference in Momma’s life. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I loved the products so much, I signed up to be affiliate and do receive a portion of sales from my Web site.