I woke up yesterday and I looked at Annabel and I realized she doesn’t look like a newborn anymore. She has fat on her. She’s losing her hair. Her baby acne has come and gone. Her eyes are often open and focused on my face.
She’s seven weeks old and she’s changing rapidly! We weighed her last week and she was eight pounds twelve ounces. She’s probably over nine by now! She’s gained half of her birth weight. It boggles my mind.
Mike’s parents are here from the Bay Area. They hadn’t seen Annie since she was two weeks old and they flipped over how much she’s changed.
I love putting her on her back or tummy and watching her figure things out. She’s finding her voice, and one of these days’s she’s going to accidentally roll over and scare herself.
In the last eleven months, I’ve been asked countless times what to say to parents who have lost a child. I’ve always answered hesitantly. I am no expert even though I’ve been through it. Every situation is different. So when I give advice, it’s based off of what I know we liked and appreciated in our situation.
I was asked by Daphne for this same advice. The child of her friends, Hunter, had his cancer come back for a fourth and final time. Unfortunately, Hunter passed away this past Monday. I’ve also received lots of emails from friends of Layla Grace’s parents. My stomach drops and my heart starts pounding whenever I hear about a child dying. I know the fear and pain and emptiness these parents now feel. It is so unfair.
My response to Daphne was over eight minutes long, and the video below is just a snippet of what I said:
Sorry about the auto play, not sure how to fix that.
Since so much of my advice didn’t make the cut, I wanted to elaborate here.
First, people are afraid of what to say, and often say nothing. This is a mistake. Many people are afraid to bring up the deceased child, fearing it will open wounds and raw feelings. But in my opinion the hardest thing is when people don’t talk about Maddie. It feels like she was never here, and this is what is heartbreaking. It is nice when people say, “I thought of Maddie today,” of “I saw a kid in a dress like the one Maddie wore at whatever today.” Or “I miss Maddie.” These things help, not hurt. Make us feel she is not forgotten. Sending a keepsake with the child’s photo or name, things that help her be tangibly remembered are nice. We have received AMAZING things and we cherish everything.
Six years ago, one of my friends lost her father. I was living across the country from her, and I was terrified. I felt guilty that I had my dad and she didn’t. So I didn’t say anything, and I ruined our friendship for a while. I am very lucky she gave me another chance. She has been there for me since Maddie passed away. I have horrible regret about the whole thing – all I had to do was call her and say, “I’m so sorry.”
Religion is a potentially explosive way to comfort. Unless you absolutely know 100% percent the person will be comforted by mentions of faith, don’t go there. Religion is a very complicated thing in the wake of a child’s death, and they may be angry at God or confused as to how to incorporate the death of a child into the religion that they have known to have their best interests in mind. Even someone you know to be intensely religious may be having a crisis of faith in the wake of a child’s death, and could be angered/saddened by mention of religion. Especially stay away from, “God wanted her more than you,” or “God needed her more,” etc. I don’t care if it is the all powerful creator of the universe, you don’t tell any Mama that anyone wants her baby more than she does.
So many people hate seeing their loved one in such pain and want to fix it. Consequentially, they start talking about how you have to move on, that you will see them again, the child is with God, it will get better in time, etc. All things they think will “fix it.” Don’t try to do this. Follow the lead of the parents. Discuss what they want…if they go to those places you can discuss those things, but don’t try to steer it there. Sometimes I want to talk about Maddie and the unfairness of it all, and other times I want to hear funny stories or talk about reality TV.
Don’t be afraid to show emotion. Many people feel they have to be strong for their friends, that they can’t cry or show emotion. I don’t think that is true. You can be strong AND be emotional. If tears come, don’t fight them. This shows your friends that you, too, are crushed and sad and lost.
Address the horror. People often worry about addressing how awful the situation is, but the parents want to hear that people get the hell they are in. The parents feel alone when they don’t think people understand how awful this is. Saying things like, “This is the worst thing. I am so sorry and sad that it had to happen to you and your child,” helps.
Food is very helpful. The last thing you want to do when mourning is worry about eating. There are always people around after a death, and the last thing you want to think about is feeding them. Mike and I never would have eaten if food hadn’t been sent to us. A gift of food also tells the parents they are loved.
Say or express something you never have before. If you have never told the person that you love them, come right out and tell them that you love them. If you’ve never held their hand, hold their hand. Give hugs. These expressions mean a lot.
Finally, my biggest advice is to not be afraid to take initiative. We often say, “let me know what I can do,” in a situation like this. Well, I can tell you that Mike and I had no idea what we needed. We were so lucky that we had friends and family rally together and just take care of things. A few came to town to help out. One friend organized food, another cleaned my house, two bought the clothes Mike and I wore to the funeral, one put together Maddie’s slide show, a few organized the reception after her service. I could go on and on. I didn’t have to worry about anything because I knew my friends and family would handle it.
Be there for your friends. Call, email, text. Tell them they don’t have to respond. Let them know you are thinking of them, and their child, all the time. Don’t drop away after the funeral – that’s when they’ll need you the most. Be the kind of friend that you would want to have.
If you have any questions or other advice to add, please let me know below.
I had my six week check up yesterday with Doctor Risky. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I got this. Again. *Grumble Grumble* Anyway. I brought Annabel with me because I wanted Dr. Risky and her staff to see the little girl we all worked so hard for. And because I like to show her off because I think she’s kind of adorable. It was great to see them all coo over her. I hope Dr. Risky was proud of how healthy and gigantic Annie already is (up almost three pounds since birth, omg).
My exam went fine, Dr. Risky said I have healed well and she cleared me to resume normal activity. I’m actually kind of looking forward to exercising. Of course, ask me again in the morning when it’s time for me to go to the gym. I’ll be singing a verrrrry different tune. But before I go to the gym I am going back to physical therapy to get my hips and back in a bit better shape. I’m hoping my physical therapist can make some good and easy suggestions to help get me back into shape. Emphasis on easy. Hopefully something involving eating cookies.
Speaking of cookies, there is one thing that isn’t quite right. In the last six weeks, I’ve had to check my blood sugar a few times to see how my body is adjusting to no longer being pregnant. The good news is that my blood sugar after I eat is normal. The weird news is that my fasting blood sugar (my blood sugar when I wake up) is way too high. It should be 90 or below, and it has been 111, 110, 135, 100, and 140. Dr. Risky thought that it is a little weird but she was encouraged that my post-meal blood sugar is at a normal level. But, to be sure, I am going to mention it to Dr. Looove when I bring Annabel in for her two month appointment in a few weeks.
Has anyone else experienced this? I’m not snacking overnight or eating gobs of sugar before bed. I’m hoping this isn’t a precursor to type two diabetes.
I told Annie what was going on and she was like, “whaaaaa?”
When I was growing up, I got a new diary at the beginning of every year. I was determined to write in it every day. I never made it out of January.
In 2002 I started my first office job, where I sat in front of a computer for the majority of the day. I wanted to do something creative with my spare time (I had a lot of it then), so I started an online diary. I hadn’t even heard the word “blog” at that point. I set myself up with a space on Diaryland.com, and started keeping track of my days.
I got bored with Diaryland quickly, and I decided to put some of the HTML skills I learned in college to use. I built myself my own website (all hand-coded), and I wrote about my life there. I’d stay at my desk after my boss left for the day and tell my latest adventures. Being able to type out my life was so much easier than writing it by hand.
Over the weekend I spent some time reading my old blog. I wrote about mostly superficial stuff – what I was listening to, what my friends and I had done over the weekend, and Mike. I sound so young (and I was, I started when I was barely 23), like a different person. I laughed a lot, not only at my attempts to be funny (I am my own best audience) but also at how silly I was. I mean, I REALLY cared who won American Idol. The pictures show how young we were (and BLONDE):
Yes, three of these pictures were taken in the same bar.
On the other hand, I blogged through some exciting and wonderful times. I started writing right after I met Mike, so I have our whole relationship chronicled. I have a detailed record of the time I lived in New York City, down to the restaurants I ate at and the places I went.
I am really thankful I kept that blog, as silly as it might be now. It’s where I learned the discipline to write every day. I get a little sad thinking about the person I used to be, so carefree. It’s almost impossible for me to put myself back in the frame of mind I was in then. I almost feel like I’m reading about a character in a book where I know the ending. It’s hard seeing how happy and hopeful I was, knowing my whole world would be shattered down the line.
I received a notice that it’s time to renew the domain for that blog. I’m uncertain if I’ll keep the entries online – no one is reading them anyway – so I think I might let it expire. I’ll keep a copy for Annabel to laugh at someday – I want her to know the silly young side of me that used to be.
