Vocabulary Around Grief
Vocabulary Around Grief
On July 2, 2021, our daughter, Kaiya Grace, was stillborn. A stillbirth is a tragic event that no one wants to talk about. I understand why. No one wants to imagine the loss of a child. Unfortunately, it does happen and for people to be better at supporting those during their darkest times, it needs to be talked about so we have a better vocabulary around grief.
Our pregnancy was a surprise and we kept it a secret until 20 weeks. People asked us why we waited so long and the answer is simple. We wanted to.
Maybe I knew deep down that this would happen. Or maybe it was the anxiety of having a baby. Society is so critical of women. We never seem to be enough. We gain too much weight, or we don’t gain enough. We have kids too early, or we have them too late. We have too many kids, or we don’t have enough kids. I wanted to avoid all this chatter, as well as the jokes about baby bumps, childbirth, and screaming children.
We had no idea what was going to happen just a few weeks after we finally shared the news that we were soon expecting a baby girl.
That Terrible Day
There was no indication anything was wrong. Kaiya just stopped moving. When I called the doctor, she said everything was probably o.k. but we could come in just to be checked and that would assure us everything was fine.
It wasn’t. I still relive those moments over and over. The nurse running out of the room. Two doctors and a nurse running in. Then a third doctor running in. All of them silently watching the screen and one of them finally confirming what I already knew, “There is no heartbeat.” The last image I saw before the doctor turned off the monitor was my baby girl lying on her side, with her back turned to us as if she were sleeping peacefully. Just the week before, we were shopping for strollers and baby clothes. That day we were suddenly discussing burial arrangements for our daughter.
When we got home from the hospital that morning, we decided to call everyone and let them know the news right away so we could focus on the next steps. We still had a lot of doctor’s visits and appointments to schedule. There was still the delivery process to go through.
The Forgetters, Relaters, and Minimizers
Telling family and friends was very difficult. There were no words to convey what we were going through. People tried to say all kinds of things that they thought would be comforting; most weren’t but I do understand that they were doing the best they could with the tools (or words) they had. I organized these responses into my own three categories: the forgetters, the relaters, and the minimizers.
The Forgetters–
These are the people who quickly forget what happened. They only felt the emotional impact in the moment you told them what happened and then their busy life continued onward. These are the people who call your husband on his birthday and give you both a hard time for not being out celebrating. It’s as if we are just supposed to be put our grief and trauma behind us and never look back. They have no idea that crying is a daily event.
The Relaters–
These are the people who bring up an event in their life and try to tell you that they understand because they ‘have been there before.’ I heard a lot of “we had a miscarriage too” or “we also struggled with infertility.” While those are painful and sad experiences, there is additional trauma in leaving the hospital with a death certificate and footprints, then having your body go through post-partum changes. Nature can be so cruel.
The Minimizers–
They never really acknowledge the identity of the child that was lost and are quick to say, ‘you’ll have another one,’ or ‘at least you know you can get pregnant.’ Maybe my husband and I will have another child or maybe we won’t. Either way, there is no replacement for Kaiya. She will always be our first child and a part of our family. They also have no idea that a subsequent pregnancy would be filled with fear, anxiety, and extra doctor’s appointments.
Grief is a Bitch!
Grief is a bitch! It’s disorienting and it pops up daily when you least expect it. Dates you thought would be hard aren’t, but you suddenly find yourself crying just before giving a lecture to 20 graduate students. Even more disorienting is that people don’t know how to treat a grieving parent. In the same hour, I will hear someone say, ‘I don’t know how you get out of bed,’ and then talk to someone else who seems to have completely forgotten what happened. Somewhere in between are the people who tell me how I should be feeling. That I probably feel as if a part of me is missing, or that I envisioned a different life at this moment. The statement that really makes me irate is ‘I know you’re sad because you’re missing something you wanted.’ No, No, NO!!! I am sad because I am missing my daughter; one is real, and one is not.
There are no words that can comfort someone who experiences a tragic loss, especially if you haven’t been in their shoes. However, I can assure you that people experiencing grief aren’t looking for someone to take their pain away. We know that isn’t possible. We want someone who will grieve with us and remember our child.
Helpful Responses
The most helpful responses from my inner circle have been from the people who let me feel my feelings, good or bad. If I am sad and crying, they let me cry. If I am thinking about other things and feel fine, they let me feel that too. Like the day I texted my friend while she was at work and asked if I could FaceTime her. When she answered, I just cried, and she didn’t say a word. She cried with me for five minutes and then we hung up because she had a work call. I felt so supported at that moment. I have another friend who I can text at any time, and she will say ‘I wish I could be there, and I would hold you and cry with you’ or ‘this isn’t fair, I am so sorry this happened.’ I feel so comforted that I have someone who will be mad at the universe with me. These friends can’t control the pain, but I know they are grieving with me.
So, what do you say to someone who is grieving? Sometimes there are no words. You just meet them in the space where they are and sit with them.
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