I was once brave enough to ask a friend why she stopped talking to me when my daughter died. She responded that she couldn’t reach out to me because my daughter’s death was so hard on her. It was too much for her to deal with.
To that “friend” and every other person who turned away–this is what I want you to know.
I know my baby’s death was hard on you. It was hard on me too.
I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable when I say their name. To be honest, it makes me uncomfortable that you won’t.
When I mention them, I know you feel the need to change the conversation because you’re sad. I’m sad too. That’s why I keep bringing them up.
I know the fact that my baby just suddenly died is scary for you. When it actually happened to me, I was scared too.
I hear you when you say you’ve never dealt with this before. Neither have I. This is the first time my child has died, I’m trying to figure it out too.
I’m sorry it’s awkward to be around me because my baby died. It’s awkward for me to answer questions like “How many children do you have?” and “Was there anything you could have done?” Life becomes awkward when you’re living without your child.
I know that you really don’t want to hear about my sad story right now. I really wish I didn’t have to tell it.
Thank you for letting me know that you think it’s time for me to move on and stop dwelling. But I have to ask–who could be expected to move on from something like this?
I know you have been waiting for me to “get back to normal.” There are times I wish I could go back there too.
Maybe your intentions were heartfelt, but they have left my heart feeling broken. I know it can be hard to support someone when their baby has died, but I promise you it’s harder to be the one whose baby died.
I know these words may be difficult to read. I assure you they have been difficult to write because I care about you. I was expecting more from you.
Because I know this has been hard for you but it’s been hard for me too.