Their Baby Died. What Do I Say?

One thing Jeff and I have talked about with other loss parents is the way well-meaning acquaintances, friends, and family sometimes say “the wrong thing” when hearing the bad news that our babies have died. I think this happens because even simply thinking about the death of a baby is so shocking, burdensome, and intense that most people:

1. probably want out of the conversation as quickly as they realize they’re in it
2. probably haven’t pre-planned a compassionate response

In our collective experiences here are some examples of “the wrong thing” to say:

a. “You’re young/you can have another.”

Children aren’t replaceable, and you probably shouldn’t discuss anyone’s fertility but your own.

b. “They’re in a better place.”

No, no they aren’t. The best place for a baby is in their Mommy and Daddy’s arms.

c. “It’s been a long time….aren’t you, you know, past that?”

Nope. They aren’t. They probably never will be. And that is ok. 

d. “My grandpa died this year too.”

Encountering someone in deep pain can bring up your own pains, too. However, it’s important to focus on the person you’re speaking with and hold space for where they are, rather than shift the conversation immediately. As the dialogue unfolds or you see the person over time, it may be appropriate to share your own losses.

e. “My cousin’s friend lost a baby at full term. At least you weren’t that far along.”

This is similar to the above example of sharing a personal story of loss but it’s also much worse because you are comparing baby losses, and belittling one of those losses. Please, please, please DON’T ever compare. This parent’s baby is this. parent’s. baby. There is no worse loss than the loss of their own child, whether it be on the day of conception or the child’s 70th birthday. As soon as the mother or father recognizes that they have a child, they have permission to mourn the loss of that child as the most real, tragic, and significant event of their lives.

Here are some examples of  better things to say when someone’s baby has died:

a. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

This is the best, and safest thing to communicate. Everything else carries some amount of risk because child loss is so personal, emotional, and uniquely felt. Giving “wait time”, gentle eye contact, a compassionate hug, and even allowing yourself to cry are also the silent version of  a”right thing to say.”

b. “Did you name your baby/babies? Would you be willing to share their name(s) with me?”

If you are friends or family of the loss parents, these questions may be appropriate. I don’t frequently have the opportunity to speak my son’s names in public or discuss them the way other parents do. One of the most memorable conversations I’ve had post-loss happened when a coworker asked me their names so that she could pray for us. I treasured that moment and felt honored that she wanted to love and take care of my babies in the way that held the most meaning for her. She acknowledged them as people. She acknowledged me as their mother.

c. “I wish this hadn’t happened to you and your family.” “You must be in so much pain.” “You did nothing wrong.” “You didn’t deserve this.”

Statements that validate and affirm are critical. In the past I have blamed myself, wondered if I did something to “deserve” what happened, and worried over whether my feelings were “normal.”  The more frequently other people said something along the lines of the above, the easier it was to squash those doubtful, negative voices in my head.

d. “How are you doing today?”

Each day is different and adding the word “today” means you can keep asking this question, and keep listening to the answers. 

e. “I’d like to text/email/write you a letter/ leave dinner on your porch/drop off xyz. Please don’t feel the need to respond back. I know everything must feel like too much right now.”

If I had a penny for every text, card, email, or phone call I haven’t yet replied to….I’d be able to buy a hot mug of tea in the hopes that I’d gather the courage to sit down and write back. And I’d probably think about it for a few hours, become emotionally exhausted, write back to one person and take a nap. Seriously, I’m working on this issue in therapy.  Perhaps it isn’t the same for everyone but for me, writing to or thanking someone usually involves thinking about any number of grief “triggers” I have. I feel strange about it, but continue to avoid even dear friends. Perhaps even especially those dear friends. Doing a kind act and simultaneously removing the pressure for the person to respond to or coordinate anything is a huge gift. A loss parent might not tell you how much they appreciate your acts of care, but they will help them enormously.

f. “I love you.”

It’s a beautiful thing to say to someone you know whose heart is hurting.

g. “I know this pain. One day, if you want to, I’d like to talk to you about it.”

(Only if true, and only if it feels right.) I couldn’t have made it where I am today without the open hearts of friends, friends-of-friends, students, coworkers, family, and even complete strangers who shared their tragedies, messages of hope and loss, tears, letters, cards, and love with me.

Loss is lonely and isolating; keep in mind that the person suffering the loss of their child will likely not initiate contact.

I hope this blog post has been helpful and given you a starting place, rather than a fear of wrongdoing. Please reach out and offer some kind, well intentioned, gentle words. On the list or not, you’ll find the right things to say.