Top 10 Crappy Things People Say

My BlogHer ad on the right? Underneath it are titles from other blog posts in the BlogHer network. Most are strangers and often unrelated to my personal situation, but I like clicking on them every now and again. They're enticing. One title was Ten Things Not to Say to Baby Loss Parents. Not that I haven't visited some of these isolated topics before, but let's revisit, shall we?

I'm currently nearing 7 months post loss and still plenty of angry and sad about all things related. Sure, I cry less. But my heart, none the better. These comments are said by wonderful and well-meaning people who just don't know what to say to us. So without further adieu, a revisit with commentary. Because commentary is fun.

1. Your child is in a better place. 
So... shouldn't we all just be in that better place, then? I mean, if it's so wonderful, why do we bother living? If that better place is heaven, then why do we even bother having children if bringing them to Earth would be a terrible place to exist? I suppose I understand the suffering part of that whole thought process and how they are no longer suffering in heaven. But really? 

2. At least he wasn't older/younger.
You're right. Because losing my child at 8 days, 4.5 months, 9 months, 2 years, 10 years... make it any harder? I understand that our lives did not have Andrew in them as a daily routine. I never woke up for feedings, juggled putting baby crap in the car while dealing with a crying baby... none of that. But it doesn't mean we hadn't already planned out his entire life of excitement. I could see him playing soccer and us sitting on the sidelines cheering him on. And in many ways, I'd like to argue that losing a child later would be better because at the very least, you got to see your child breathe, smile, accomplish, love, laugh, live. I got none of those things. Who is better? Not at the place to compare, really. All I have are pictures of a dead baby. Never a live one.

3. You're not the same.
Bahahaha. If you'd like old Brandy back, forget it. I'd be able to promise diamonds falling from the sky before I can promise I'd ever return to old Brandy. It's just not humanly possible. Andrew will forever be with me and this sadness will never go away. We don't appreciate being reminded that we are a little crappier now. We know. We know part of us died with those babies. Sucks to be you for having a lame friend? How about it sucks to be US. Get over your selfishness of high expectations for that perfect friend.

4. God needed him/an angel.
This is one of the worst for me. Because I am Christian and have friends who also are, they just go on assuming that I'm okay that Andrew is in heaven. And they think I believe God needed another angel? I might be the anomaly in the baby loss world, but I don't picture my baby with wings. Yes, I read Heaven is for Real and I struggled with it. Sure, I loved the idea of knowing my baby is there and will be there when I die, but I hardly believe Andrew had to carry all the way to full term and then God decided he needed him. Why not sooner? Later? Please. God doesn't need more angels. If He is that powerful, he sure doesn't need my baby to "help" him or anything stupid like that. Stop trying to play God by explaining God's moves. And by the way, that is also implying that God killed my child to take him to heaven. And that is something I will NEVER subscribe to. Because how can I believe and love a God who kills babies? Not God's doing.

5. He's no longer suffering.
Nope, but I will for the rest of my life. And as far as we know, he was never suffering. Sure, at some point his heart stopped beating. I can't imagine that was pleasant, but he was so small and so active. I just don't buy this argument one bit. Considering we have no answers and are treated like an in-utero SIDS case, we have no proof he was ever suffering in the first place.

6. It's time to move on.
Um, see #3. I will never move on. I might move forward and hopefully have more babies, but I will never move past or beyond losing Andrew. That's my child. Dead, yes. But he is and will always be my child and firstborn. If you want me to move on, I'd probably advise you to move on to new friends. I grieve at my own pace and refuse to accept that nonsense from anyone.

7. Are you trying again/planning to have more children?
Again... it sounds like you think I'll be okay as long as I have more kids. Like somehow Andrew will be erased or the 1, 2, 3 more kids will even out the loss factor. Nope, I'll always still be missing one. I also think that unless you're a baby loss parent, you should probably never ask a person that question. It's none of your business. I also love the idea of "planning" to have children as if it's some guarantee. It's not. My attempts at this point have ended in disaster, so my planning is out the window. I also have friends who struggle with infertility for years and are silent grievers of something out of their control. We lost babies and many of them have too-- either that or they mourn the hopes, dreams, and plans they also had placed in starting a family of their own. If a woman is of childbearing age, it's probably best to avoid asking because you have no idea what they might be going through. And if you're the type who get knocked up with "oops babies" or have never even taken a pregnancy test on repeat or OPKs to track your ovulation, you especially have no right to be asking such questions.

With that said, there is something to say between the differences of grieving with hope of a future child (aka while pregnant) and grieving without hope of a future child (aka not pregnant). I'm still dealing with the latter. Sigh.

8. I know what you're going through.
This pain is unique to child loss. There's just about nothing else you can compare it to. I realize everyone has their struggles, but losing a child is so very personal. Something about babies dying that really rocks the core in people. Unless you're one of us, you don't understand. And that's okay that you don't. We don't want you to experience this. But we do wish everyone understood.   

9. My pet died.
I've actually been given this shpeal. I couldn't believe it when I heard it either. And to make matters worse, the person told me they lost their CAT. I friggin' hate cats. I hardly believe that losing an animal is close to losing a child. Especially since I actually formed that child inside of me. That cat... not of your species. Seriously offensive to compare my child to a stupid cat. Don't hate on me animal activist peeps. Just keepin' it real.

10. Everything happens for the reason.
Top used and highly offensive response to losing a child. I. hate. this. one. People... do not try and give me some BS explanation for why my child died. You're not God and you aren't all-knowing. And for the record, I'll repeat that God. did. not. kill. my. child. There's never going to be a good way of explaining to people that my life is not better because Andrew died. It will always be a fraction worse and that sucks. But it's real and true and not for a reason. I wasn't being punished. I didn't deserve this (because I can name so many more people who kept their babies but were rotten individuals...) and I don't want to hear this crap. It makes us feel worse hearing that, like we deserved this fate or something.

Now you're probably wondering... well the what the hell can I say to console this chick?

There's just about one thing you can say that would matter at all...

I'm so sorry. You can also tag on something like I'm praying for peace or I'm thinking of you.

Other than that, please just keep it simple. We do appreciate well wishes and wonderful, heartfelt thoughts. But please don't try to place a simple explanation on the loss of a child. I've said it before and I'll say it again... we do love talking about our babies. You are welcome to ask questions, but never offer explanations. None of us are wise enough to have those answers.

Just a friendly PSA for the day. You can probably tell I'm a little bitter... but also just saw that other post and wanted to write my own commentary after reading hers.

I'll be picking up my friend from the airport in a few hours. Our plans this weekend include: eating, drinking, and laying around in a lazy river. Apparently Chicago weather didn't get the memo on my plans. 65 degrees and rainy is no place for inner tubes and cool beverages. Have a nice weekend, y'all. {talked to my friend Molly on g-chat the other day. Now I'm all Southern and stuff.}