Comments on: Bitte Alle Aussteigen

By: ~j.

~j. — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 04:19:16 +0000

I lost a child. He was stillborn at 30 & 1/2 weeks. He’d be 8 years old. One comment can’t contain ‘my story’, but I do want to thank you for acknowledging your friend’s child. That means the world to them.

By: Rynell

Rynell — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 20:19:59 +0000

I’ve lost two baby boys born prematurely. Sometimes I still don’t know what to say to other people who lose babies because there are no words to ease that pain. It is an experience that I stumbled through. I kept putting one foot in front of the other and I hoped. I hoped to have joy in my life again, I hoped for the future, I hoped to have babies to hold, love and raise. My two baby boys were my first two children and my arms and my life and my body felt so empty after going through two premature deliveries, two graveside funerals. Just as the pain had been intense, the joy when I had healthy term babies was very intense. A beautiful life is made of both pain and joy.

As for your friends, my advice is to simply love them and don’t expect them to act in any certain way. Don’t forget their baby and don’t expect them to “get over” their loss. Just love them. Let them talk about how they feel if they feel like it. Some days are harder than others.

(And I second the cabbage remedy.)

By: Kim

Kim — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 05:09:17 +0000

Your Mom is right, no parent should ever have to bury their child. Sadly, it happens more than any of us realize.
When my daughter died, the pain was so intense, so raw that I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was the funeral, and all the arrangements of what to do with her and then, there was nothing. People stopped calling, food stopped coming in, life was going on. But mine, my life was stuck in that awful moment of her death.
I think that the one thing that people don’t realize is that when a parent loses their child, their life never goes back to normal. They will never be that person that they were when their child was alive.
The gospel is fabulous, but really, it doesn’t fill your arms. That was one thing my husband and I said over and over was that the Gospel is true, we will see her again, but right now it hurts and right now we can’t hold her. Let those around you who may have lost a child know that it’s ok for it to hurt for a long time, because it does.
I am working on a two part series on my blog about this very topic right now. It should be up within the next week or so.
Much love to your friends. The road will be difficult. Continue to talk to them about their baby. Remember important days, his birthday and angel day are two really important ones. Call just to ask how she’s doing. If she has too much milk, tell her sage and parsley will really help. Also, cabbage leaves directly on the breasts will help with swelling. These are practical tips that many people don’t know.
Pray for them also. I could literally feel the prayers of those who loved me bearing me up.

By: Calluna

Calluna — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 19:57:50 +0000

I agree with so much of what has been said already. Even a couple years after the death of my infant twins they are still so present in my daily thoughts. It means so much when others ask questions or acknowledge that they were and are part of my family. I appreciate when someone is willing to risk an awkward moment and let me discuss something that is such a huge part of my life.

By: Annie

Annie — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 13:49:36 +0000

So touching. Thank you for this beautiful passage. I am grateful for the topic because I often find myself feeling stumbling and clumsy in my attempts to comfort or express condolences.

I agree with what’s been said: simple expressions that acknowledge the loss, sensitive opportunities to talk about the person they’ve lost.

Also I think it’s important to remember that the grief doesn’t end with the funeral or even months/years after. I remember a close friend who lost her son mentioned that the pain really began after the casseroles were gone and the busyness of the funeral was over. When normal life began for everyone else, she was left with ample, spilling-over grief and empty spots in her home and heart.

By: Selwyn

Selwyn — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:40:52 +0000

Grief at losing a loved one is hard,no matter how the loss happens.

One of the best blog posts I’ve read about grieving, and what people can do is http://timesandseasons.org/index.php/2008/08/mourning-with-those-who-mourn-2/ . I’ve saved it, printed it, reread it so many times, and am about to send it to someone who has been the most amazing support to me in my grief.

Grief isn’t pretty, but ignoring it is bad, trivialising or rationalising it makes it worse.

Excellent post and comments!

By: Michelle L.

Michelle L. — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 21:28:17 +0000

Maralise- thank you.

jendoop– I think your advice is best. Parents love to talk about their children. Even decades after losing them. I’ll never forget having my broken foot examined by a doctor/friend and asking about his son who’d passed 12 years earlier. He talked and cried and thanked me over and over just for saying his name.

Maybe we feel like it’s tactless to mention a lost child? But the parents are thinking about their baby anyway. I’ll send my friend Zaila over and see what she has to say.

By: jendoop

jendoop — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 18:58:33 +0000

What has helped me in grief is having something to do. For some reason we picture the grieving family as just sitting around crying for days on end. When my younger sister-in-law died I had to do something. My sister and I cleaned their home, where she died. Then I took my brother shopping for her burial dress and the necklace he wanted to buy for her but didn’t have the money. We went to the funeral home where I paid the balance on the funeral with my credit card- the best debt I ever incurred, I still carry the receipt in my wallet.

My sister and a good friend lost babies when I lived far from them. It was impossible to do anything active for them, I couldn’t even fly to be with them. It helped when they told me the specific things friends and church members were doing for them. It made me grateful for a worldwide church that cares for our temporal needs as well as spiritual. Now I still try to aid them in their grief by talking about their babies. My friend shared this poem recently:

The mention of my child’s name
may bring tears to my eyes,
but never fails to bring
music to my ears.

If you are truly my friend,
let me hear the beautiful
music of her name.
It soothes my broken heart
and sings to my soul.
-author unknown

By: Justine

Justine — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 18:13:45 +0000

I’ve had a few friends lose babies, and there is really nothing worse in the world than watching a grieving father carry a tiny coffin down a church aisle. I always feel so helpless and wordless. Food is a safe way for me to connect to these friends without pushing them to reach back. Freezer food, hot food, comfort food. Feeding someone feels very spiritual to me, and I know that bringing food allows me to show love without bumbling around my awkward lack of appropriate words.

By: Annette

Annette — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 17:40:30 +0000

When a friend lost a child stillborn, I felt helpless. I finally told her, “I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to say.” She said that was the best thing I could have said–I didn’t understand, I couldn’t, and yet I was grieving with her. To this day, I’m so glad I didn’t try spouting platitudes about eternal families and how she’d get over it.