Thoughts on the treatment of bereaved parents

Whilst we are finding it easier to talk about death, baby loss or loss of a pregnancy is one that many find it hard to discuss. As part of BabyLoss Awareness Week 2022, I want to dig back into my book “What Now” and share with you my thoughts on how we are treated as bereaved parents.

“Don’t take it personally, no one knows what to say

The topic of miscarriage is still such a taboo. It has moved on a million miles from our parents’ or grandparents’ generation, where there would be cover-ups, secrets and silent grieving. Now they have names and we have blogs, books, groups, films, fundraisers and, most importantly, funerals.

Despite all of this, it still gets brushed under the carpet. We expect that people live a full and purposeful existence and pass away, with a lifetime full of memories left behind them. But when it’s a child who hasn’t even taken a breath, it is a concept that many people cannot begin to comprehend.

The one thing that I noticed through our loss was how it impacted the people around me. When I lost baby number one, and especially when I lost Callum, I felt like a pariah, as if sharing this experience with people that hadn’t had a loss I was tainting their life. It was as if I would somehow project our bad luck onto them.

I know, it is ridiculous. But it appears I wasn’t the only one to think this way.

When we started telling people about what had happened with our little boy’s development, and what it meant for us as a family, people fell into one of two distinct camps. A helper or a wrong-footer.

The helpers

Messages such as “What can we do?” “How can we help?” and “I am so sorry”.

These were few and far between but meant more than I can explain. I always remember one of my best friends, who packed her car to the brim with several days’ worth of delicious food, then drove three hours up the motorway and sat with me whilst I spoke, cried, drank tea, and cried some more. She was with me the day that my husband went back to work. One of the first days I had been on my own for weeks. She wanted to make sure I ate and that I had company. Even to this day, I cannot express how much that means to me.

So, I say it here, in print, “Thank you, Lucy.”

The wrong-footers

I won’t lie. This is the part of the experience that I have carried the most anger about. Even as I write this, I can feel the bubble of upset in my stomach; it surprises me how raw it still feels. You may feel the same. If you do, I tell you this now. Don’t be angry with them.

The people that end up saying the worst possible things, are saying it from a place of care and love. As human beings, we tend to want to fix things. That combined with the culture of a very British stiff upper lip and a hesitancy towards emotional outbursts, means us grieving parents can end up being at the receiving end of some of these wonderful lines:

“At least it happened now and not later.”

“There was obviously something wrong.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“You can try again.”

“At least you CAN get pregnant.”

“It’s God’s way.”

“They are in a better place.”

“At least you didn’t know them.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a baby.”

“So, are you over it now?”

“Now the funeral is done, do you think you can move on now?”

“I know how you feel because I lost my dog/cat/grandma (delete where appropriate).”

“Please stop talking about it – it’s making me feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, you are paranoid about pregnancy now.”

“At least you can have a drink now.”

Or, the harsh one.

Simply saying nothing; radio silence.

Above are some of the ways that I and other bereaved parents have been “comforted” over the years. The reason for including this list is to show how common these “foot in the mouth” reactions are. People just don’t know how to talk about it.

Before this happened to me, I fear I may have said something that may have landed painfully, regardless of if I meant well. I can’t guarantee that I won’t do it again, even with what I know now.

The best advice I can give you is what I tell myself. For the people that stuck around, and said the wrong thing, they tried. But they were there. Forgive them.

For those that didn’t stick around and didn’t say anything at all, they may have been struggling with their own life challenges and knew they couldn’t support you the way they needed. Forgive them.

Life is genuinely too short to be angry. Turn that energy into sharing what people need to hear. Share your story so that people know it’s not taboo.”

 

My book “What Now? An Honest Guide to Miscarriage, Baby Loss, Parenting, Mental Health and Rebuilding Your Identity After Loss” is available on kindle and paperback. All the proceeds go to Edward’s Trust, the charity that supported us through our bereavement.