What We Need the Most

I've been writing about the real and raw feelings of grief for the past few months.  I find it helpful to get the words out and empowering myself to be honest and not hide.  But I have found people still don't know exactly what Joe and I need, even people who really want to help.  It is okay to not know, because who knows how to handle the death of a child?  No one really.  But I thought I would take the time to directly, expressly write down what we need the most right now.  Because we are struggling.  We are hurting.  Deeply.  We feel more isolated in our grief as time goes on, and we miss our girl more and more with each passing day.

People think that those first few days are the hardest, but you are still in shock then.  Your brain protects you a little.  Now, months out, the cards have stopped, the messages come few and far between, and people stop asking how you are.   The doctor's visits are over.  But you are still a mess, maybe even more so because you have missed your child longer and there is less support right at hand.  The full gravity of your loss is clearer than ever.  The shock is gone and what is left is darkness. It is isolating.  It is hard.  And it is no one's fault.  But that is why I thought I would write down what Joe and I need the most.

• Prayer.  Pray that we feel comfort and peace.  Pray that we will be gentle with each other and those around us despite our pain.  Pray that our hearts will begin to feel joy again.  Tell us you are praying.  Knowing people are praying with you is so powerful.
• Communication. A quick Facebook message or text saying you are thinking of Mira, that you love us, that you are praying, or just "Hi," anything at all, helps lessen the feeling of isolation surrounding the loss of a child.  Even a comment on one of my blog posts means so much.  I often read these comments, messages, and texts again we I am feeling alone. Reaching out to others is hard, almost impossible right now, but we so appreciate those who are willing to reach out to us.
• Validation. You don't have try to fix this for us.  You can't.  No one can.  But you can acknowledge the pain we are facing.  You can tell us "This sucks, this is terrible, I'm sorry."
• Acknowledgement. Say Mira's name.  Ask about her.  Ask about my pregnancy.  Let me be a part of the 'Mom' conversations, the ones where everyone is comparing broth stories and morning sickness from past pregnancies. Mira's life and my motherhood should not be whispered like a dirty secret.  
• Grace. Forgive us when we need it.  Yes, we will miss events you invited us to, because we couldn't get out of bed that day.  Yes, we will forget to return your call/text and forget to give you that information you needed.  Yes, we will make the wrong decisions or say things we usually wouldn't, and maybe not even realize what we did.  This is your brain on grief.  It doesn't work the same.  Please forgive us, we promise we are trying our best.