“Ignorance is bliss.” Or so they say. I never stopped to ponder this thought. It’s not something I can say I have ever related to…until my baby girl’s heart stopped beating.

As I laid in the hospital bed on the evening of July 9, 2019, the nurses informed me of several organizations that would be coming by with resources to share. Resources that would help me through the loss of my daughter. I listened as they described AgapeCare Cradles. An organization that provides caskets (free of charge) to families who experience the loss of a child.

The next morning, after I delivered my sweet Miriam’s body into this world, a wonderful volunteer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (NILMDTS) came and took pictures of my beautiful little girl. She spent two hours documenting every single feature from her long eyelashes to her tiny little toes. She gave us priceless mementos that we will cherish forever.

In the weeks following Miriam’s funeral, we discovered blogs, podcasts, books, support groups, all dedicated to helping parents who have experienced loss. One support group, in particular, has been incredibly encouraging to me. Bridget’s Cradles hosts monthly support & serve gatherings where moms who have experienced the death of a child (through miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss) gather together and hear a message from God’s word and then work together to serve other moms who are walking (or will walk) this road of grief as well.

I am so thankful for each and every one of these resources that have made an immeasurable impact on my life. But I wish I didn’t know about any of them. I wish I never needed them. I wish my daughter was still alive, growing up “way too fast” like all the other children of moms who are blessed enough to raise their children on this side of eternity. I wish I didn’t know that the tiny practice of inhaling and exhaling was something so precious, something so easily overlooked and taken for granted.

I wish I didn’t know.

But I do.

And, because I do, life will never be the same for me. My perspective on grief has completely changed and I want to share 5 lessons I have learned with you.

DISCLAIMER: I hope I am the only person you ever know that has experienced (or will experience) stillbirth. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. However, many of the tips below are not specific to the loss of a child and I hope they are beneficial for helping you interact with anyone who might be experiencing grief.

1. Don’t ignore it.

• This seems SO obvious to me now but I was definitely guilty of not acknowledging people’s grief before I experienced it. I’ve learned that ignoring it is actually one of the worst things you can do. It comes from a good place of trying not to make the grieving person more sad but, honestly, that’s not possible. The truth is, acknowledging the loss is acknowledging the life. When you pretend the loss didn’t happen, it can come across as pretending the life didn’t happen and that is truly devastating—especially in the case of a stillbirth. Having Miriam changed me and it means so much when people acknowledge her life.

2. Don’t say “Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

• This seems like the right thing to say but it’s too generic. It’s a good start but try being more specific.
  • “I’d love to bring dinner over some time. What night works best for you?” (My sisters set up a meal train for us and also made us several frozen meals which was extremely helpful!)
  • “Can I mow your lawn this weekend?”
  • “I’m in line at Starbucks. Can I pick something up for you?”
  • Also sharing songs, books, posts, anything encouraging that reminds the grieving person you are still thinking about them and you are available to talk whenever they feel comfortable.

• Just a note on this one—your help won’t always be needed (or wanted). There are many ups and downs in grief and it’s not predictable. If your offer to help is rejected the first time (or even the second or third), just make sure the grieving person knows that you sincerely care and that you will continue to check in periodically.

3. Don’t say “How are you?” unless you actually want to know.

• If you’re walking by me in the hallway and asking “How are you?”, just to break the silence…don’t. It’s such a difficult question to answer and it honestly hurts to say “good” just to avoid keeping someone longer than they are comfortable. Instead, say something like, “It’s so good to see you.” or “I’m glad I ran into you, I’ve been praying for you.” (Of course, you should only say these things if they are true.) Just say something that doesn’t require a response. If you actually want to know how I’m doing, be prepared to stay awhile.

4. Don’t say “Time heals.” or “It will get better/easier in time.”

• This is big. Time doesn’t heal. God heals over time (if we let Him). And it won’t get better. At least not on this side of eternity. I will learn to adapt and I will develop a new normal but it will never get “easier” to live without my daughter.

5. Don’t forget.

• Put a reminder on your calendar to reach out on important dates. For stillbirths, the birthday (also known as “heaven day”), as well as the baby’s original due date, are very significant. Also, keep the parents in mind on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Send a note to let them know you are lifting up a special prayer for them that day. It means the world.

Thanks for reading. I hope these tips are helpful to you in some way. And, just a side note, if you have done or said any of the things that I listed not to do or say, know that no offense was taken. Every person that has interacted with me and Jonah has had the purest and most sincere intentions and we feel incredibly loved by each and every one of you.

💜