How to help those who are grieving

A friend sent me a message this week, sadly one of her family members lost their baby at 22 weeks.  She wanted to know what to do for this family.  Koen has taught me so many lessons in his brief life.  How to help those that are grieving, raw, and broken is just one of those things.  
Many of us, myself included prior to Koen, don't know what to do or say when tragedy strikes someone we love.  My hope is that me sharing will help to benefit some else in the future.  On this day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance it just seems fitting.  Please know that none of this is judgement on any of my family or friends.  I know they love and support us, but many have felt lost with how to approach us or what to do.  Know that I love and appreciate each and every one of you!


I gave birth to Koen on a Monday.  That very day some dear friends brought a beautiful pot of spring flowers to the hospital.  That was the same pot that sat on Koen's grave all summer.  Tuesday we went home in a daze with our immediate family surrounding us.  Messages were pouring in.  I put on a brave face and dealt with the business at hand, but in my quiet moments I was so grief stricken that it made it difficult to speak.  This sort of pain makes it difficult to pick up the phone or reach out.  This does not mean that I didn't want to hear that love from so many, but that physically I could not seek it out.  What I truly needed was for people to bombard me with love and allow me to decide whether to answer.  Even their missed call on my phone would let me know that I was loved and thought of.  What I truly needed was to tell the story and answer questions IF I wanted - but I was still processing and not ready to tell the story over and over.  What I truly needed was to have someone listen to me cry and just silently be there.  Not to offer advice or try to say something magical to take my pain away.  I believe with my whole being that Koen is in the arms of Jesus, but I do not believe Jesus needed another angel so he chose to take my baby.  Our human nature is to fill the silence with something, anything, we want to fix the hurt.  But this kind of pain cannot be fixed.  Support, be there, but be silent.  

On Wednesday I just laid in bed crying and staring out the window.  My mom was sitting by my bedside and the doorbell rang.  Flowers.  The first were from dear friends from college that I have not seen since I was pregnant with Hackett.  My quiet tears turned to sobs.  My baby and my loss were being acknowledged.  Others continued to honor Koen's existence as the doorbell rang over and over and over again that day.  Acknowledge their loss with any small token or gesture.  We received so many beautiful things - a tree to plant, wind chimes, decorations for Koen's grave site, Christmas ornaments, an envelope of hand prints of my dear friends who were thousands of miles away but wanted to send hugs, and so many beautiful flowers.  It does not matter what you choose, but rather the acknowledgement of their precious little baby.

Cards.  They tend to seem old fashioned, but I needed to know that the mailbox was going to produce a gift of love every day.  They mean so much.  Again, not your wise words, but your love and the acknowledgement.  What is the best thing to say?  The best things to say are:  I love you; I am praying for you; and there are no words.  There are no words.  There are no words that you can give to take the pain away and I have no words to say back to explain the situation.  One dear friend has broke the bank at Hallmark these past few months.  She has also not been afraid to be my "stalker", constantly checking on me via text.  I needed that and I needed her.  The love and support is so heavy in the beginning.  In the first week after hearing how many people were concerned about me that I never met, while so very touching, made me feel like "that girl".  No one ever wants to be "that girl", when your story is so heartbreaking that it impacts those who do not know you.  The plus side of being "that girl" is the extreme outpouring that you so desperately need.  Then the outpouring begins to dwindle.  The first day I went to the mailbox and didn't have a card was hard.  It was a message to me that the world was continuing to move on, as it should, but for me time was standing still.  So hard to watch the world move on and you are frozen in grief.  Someone told me a story that a friend from college had sent another family a card every week for a year.  What a gift.  


When we see family no one wants to say anything for fear of upsetting us or reminding us.  We haven't forgotten.  I never forget.  I remember even more fiercely at family gatherings, because it reminds that Koen is the one family member missing.  Take the time to ask them how they are doing.  Really ask.  They may not want to talk and be okay with that.  Just you asking will acknowledge what they are already feeling.  It will remind them that they are not the only ones feeling the loss and absence.   


Make sure you reach out.  I had some loved ones who did not, and while I understand that the reason was most likely that it was too hard, it still hurts.  I have had others from my past reach out with a vengeance.  Friendships have been renewed, and what a gift that has been.  God knew I needed these dear friends to walk by my side and they are.  Quick texts or Facebook messages are such a blessing.  Just be there.


Be there, reach out, reach out often, acknowledge their little ones life, love, pray, don't try to fix them, and make sure they know that you have not forgotten.


So many of you have been Jesus in the flesh walking alongside me.  I am eternally grateful.  Thank you.