how to help a friend through babyloss
My dear friend had her baby last night, almost full term. The baby was born alive but then, after a few hours, she lost her. She was still holding her when she called me this afternoon.
My instinct is to jump on a plane, hug her, cry with her. But her family is with her now—maybe I should wait. I realize this is different for everyone, but maybe there are some universal comforts. What can I do for her?
Your friend is blessed to have you by her side, even from a distance. She needs your voice, your love, your ear. But it’s a trial ahead, and we hope the following ideas may help you navigate her needs a little better.
give her opportunities to speak her truth
[janis] In the beginning, I only wanted to write. I did not want to see people because I wanted the freedom to cry at will, without having to worry about people feeling awkward. So I wrote and they read. I find the loneliest time is some weeks after, when you are still in shock, still reeling, and everyone has slowly, somewhat turned their backs and get on with their normal life.
[tash] There's this awful lull about 8 weeks in where everything dries up—the cards and flowers and food and notices of donations stop coming, people stop asking how you're doing. That’s when you can really help her by talking, or visiting, or helping cook, or simply asking how she's doing, how she's really doing.
[bon] Take her cues, but don't rely on her to start the conversations. I have been a listener all my life, though I'm an extrovert and a pretty confident conversationalist. But the idea of inserting my need onto others, of just bringing up what was tearing me apart in conversation, was torture for me. I needed a way in. I needed to be asked, “How do you feel about (insert specific topic)?” so that I really felt that the person was interested, that I wasn't burdening them. Then I felt safe to talk, and could probably have talked for hours. But I did not know how to start.
[niobe] Follow your friend's lead. While many grieving parents want or need to talk about their sadness or anger or to discuss their lost babies, others feel differently. I had one well-meaning friend who, unprompted, kept bringing up my twins. I didn't say anything to her because I knew she was only trying to sympathize with me, but what I wanted more than anything was for her not to remind me of my grief unless I brought it up first.
be proactive in helping her to end lactation
[julia] Very soon her milk will come in, and it will suck eternal sucktitude. Pass our article on ending lactation to her partner or family so they can get her supplies, or do this yourself, overnighting them to her. The hospitals are hit-and-miss in supporting mothers who have lost babies—both in terms of emotional or therapeutic support and in ending lactation. I’m nearly sure the article on our site is about the most comprehensive thing you can find on it anywhere on the internet.
keep your own motherhood and children at a distance
[janis] For a while it hurt to see the children of friends who were of all ages, not just babies, simply because they are alive and free from knowing death. Not too long after our loss, a friend of mine wrote to tell me about a gorgeous weekend she’d had with her children. It made me feel like a failure, like I was holding my girls captive in the house as I still did not have the strength to go out and face the world. Unless she asks, try to not talk too much about your life in all its normalness, even if your intention is to say someday, you will be ordinary like me again.
[niobe] There isn't really all that much that you or anyone else can do to ease your friend's grief, but you can be more aware of what you’re doing or saying that may add to it. My family and friends didn’t understand that it was acutely painful for me to see or hear any mention of other people's babies or children, or to be around someone who I knew had a baby.
use your skills or artistry to contribute rituals or tributes
[janis] I love origami and my friends folded me a lot of paper cranes. A friend who loves to knit made me a shawl, to wrap around me in comfort. Or perhaps your friend likes music and you can put together a compilation for her, songs for summoning peace or spirit. In "Swallowed by a Snake" the author described a ritual of the Cree Indians, to go to the forest, find a tree, ask permission and strip a tree bark. Later the bereaved go back often and watch the tree heal, as he proceeds with his own grieving and healing. I had thought of asking someone to accompany in silence on long walks, and perhaps strip a bark too.
[julia] I get comfort from burning candles like this one. They don't burn for the advertised 120 hours, but they certainly last more than three days. The same site has colored candles of the same shape and size, but they are more expensive, and I happen to like white ones. It gave me some measure of comfort to see the candle continue to burn as the darkness settled around the rest of my house, and as I came downstairs the next day, and the next. Still there.
do make casseroles, don't send flowers
[niobe] Don't send cut flowers. It depressed me terribly to watch all the bouquets people had sent after the twins' deaths slowing withering and dying. While I didn't really read them, I was glad to receive cards and notes. They seemed like physical proof that someone cared, but didn't require anything in return.
[janis] If she is an avid reader, send books. I did like Swallowed by a Snake and a few others. Again, ask her. I devoured books in the beginning but I have heard other moms said they wanted to read about something other than loss. Like a good, epic novel, or magazines.
[tash] Immediately after her loss, ask what she needs. Check into things like grocery delivery and making sure the kids (if she has them) have rides to school and activities, and maybe see if she'd like a housecleaner for a few weeks—because she won't feel like doing much of anything.
[janis] Food is always useful but make sure you ask what they’d appreciate most. This could be a freezer meal, a gift certificate at a favourite restaurant, or a load of groceries. But again, ask. I loathed going out on errands like these on the early days, especially to places where we frequent and where I’d been seen pregnant, where someone might ask me, ‘So where's the baby?’ The goal is to do whatever will help keep her life somewhat functioning with minimal effort from her.
[bon] I second Janis’s point that just keeping the fridge stocked with a few decent, healthy options (fruit, carrot sticks, whatever they like to snack on) so that they don't have to worry about heading out to the grocery store and dealing with people. Even frozen lasagnas that don't require any clean-up might be welcome—we came home childless, as your friend has, but were so emotionally depleted in the early days that cooking was about the last thing I even wanted to think about. I didn't need a freezer full of food, but when people brought little things over—the mother of a childhood friend whom I hadn't seen in twenty years dropped off a loaf of homemade bread—I was touched.
[janis] Make sure that someone goes into any email accounts or website subscriptions to delete unwanted messages about imminent motherhood, or to opt out of receiving them in the future. But ask beforehand if she wants that. Some people prefer a reminder that they were going to be a mother.
plan ahead for a girlfriends’ retreat
[kate] Go to her after the initial flurry of grief and trauma, during that lonely period after the most urgent shock has settled. Be ready to give her whatever warms her heart. After, of course, you ask her what she wants—which may or may not include your company right away.
Then maybe a bit of travel, a challenging hike, a yoga retreat, a roadtrip just for the girls, an adventure together that neither of you have done before, wine, good food. Whatever she loves. Or maybe just hanging out together doing absolutely nothing. All with the caveat that you are completely open to whatever she needs emotionally—to listen, hold her when she cries. And all this only whenever she's ready. That may be months from now. But even planning something might be a light for her, something to look forward to.
perspective: pictures of the baby
[julia] If no one else has mentioned the option to her, you may want to help her decide if she wants to have professional pictures taken. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep is a volunteer organization of professional photographers who will go to the hospital and take respectful, beautiful pictures for free. If she is comfortable with the idea, it could be a wonderful memory for the family to have. Deal with this quickly if your friend is getting ready to let go of her baby’s body.
Some parents can't look at pictures afterwards, and some can't get enough of them. But you don’t know how you’ll react, and it’s best to have at least some, in case your heart needs them tucked away.
perspective: autopsy
[julia] It’s upsetting for many to think about giving their baby's body to the doctors for these tests, but if they don't know what happened, it might be a good idea to request one. There are two reasons. One is that for some people not knowing is very hard in itself. Two is that if and when they begin thinking of trying again, not knowing can make that much harder to contemplate.
the most important gift: meet medusa’s eye
[kate] Husbands, parents and other loved ones have a vested interest in the pain going away—it distresses them, and they want their sister/daughter/wife back in happy form as soon as possible. It’s meant well and it comes from love, but “Don't dwell!” and “Don't torture yourself!" lands on the grieving mother as criticism, as though her feelings are inappropriate, abnormal, unwelcome. To lose a baby is an isolating experience. To be rushed along the path of healing makes you feel even more lonely, makes you grip more tightly to the blackness.
Even years from now she'll need someone to talk to about her baby, someone who will just hold her hand without trying to fix her or cheer her up. Through both words and actions, she needs to be shown that her feelings are normal and expected, and that she is supported.
[julia] Run interference with the well-meaning but selfishly guilt-denying family and friends. She will be very sad for a very long time. She may sometimes be angry, and that is also nothing to be upset over or afraid of. There is nothing wrong with any of her feelings. There is also nothing wrong with a drink or five, if she needs it.
The most important thing is to not take any of your friend’s words or actions personally—for instance, if she doesn’t want to see you for a while. Her (and her partner's) grief is about their baby. Entering into their space is best done without any preconceived notions and with absolute willingness to do whatever they need. We call that abiding, and it is a selfless, non-trivial, and trying thing to do.
[bon] Part of the gift you're giving her is just taking this seriously. You won't necessarily make anything better, but you may be able to keep it from being worse, if that makes sense. And trust me—that in itself is a great, great gift indeed.
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What gave you comfort in the first few weeks and months after the loss of your baby? What did friends and family do for you that made you feel less alone and more acknowledged—and what did they do that grated on you? Knowing what you know now, how would you support a friend who also suffered a loss?
the medusas
Reader Comments (25)
I think everything that was said here was exactly right.
Initially, she may not even be able to articulate what she wants (aside from having her baby back). In a few days, a week or two, I think the asking is important. The abiding. I will attest to the value, of what it meant to me that friends gave me time and space. That they asked me what would comfort me, what might be difficult for me. That they were not scared off by my weeping or by my anger or my silence.
They gave me no "shoulds" and no "have tos."
Support with practical matters are also invaluable. Four months later I still get anxious going to the grocery store. Housecleaning. Help with laundry. Frozen, easy to make meals in serving sizes. I know this is hard long distance, but maybe there are services?
Check in with her, drop an email or leave a message just saying hello, or that you're thinking of her and her partner (with no expectation of a call back). Do this now, in a month, in two. You get the idea.
Ask her partner how he/she is. Ask her how her partner is doing. It meant a lot to both my husband and me when people considered his loss and his grief, too. He did his best to take care of me, but sometimes felt like no one was taking care of him. And I knew I could do very little for him because I was so consumed in my own pain.
A visit or a trip is a great idea, as something to look forward to, though I know for a long time I felt anxious just leaving the house. People came to visit, which was great, but sometimes I did need to go be by myself for a little bit.
Most important: Saying "I'm sorry" goes a lot further than you might think. A lot of people think they need to come up with some wisdom or advice, but there really is none at a time like this. It's uncomfortable to sit with the silence, to feel like you want to help or fix her pain. But, really, there is little else that will be of comfort at this time. It's simple but says a lot.
Thank you so, so much for chiming in STE. I'm so glad you did. Excellent point about asking after the father, and about "I'm sorry". One thing that still hurts me is the people who never said a single thing - even people in our families. They seem so horrified that they cannot bear the discomfort of acknowledging what happened at all, and the silence is still an elephant in the room.
thanks again STE.
Agree, about asking about the father. They seem to grieve on a different timeline, different way, but they need the "lovin'" too.
And I also agree that silence is the worst thing. I can understand that it is hard to find the right words, but to not say anything is worst, imo. Also, for me, I see silence as a type of response too. And, to petty me, it says, "I really do not care enough to even risk putting my foot in my mouth. I just wanna protect myself and my space." ok, now play the music and hand me the "Most Petty" award, please.
Thank you so much for this VALUABLE post - each and every comment is SO helpful. Many, many thanks!
My daughter was stillborn in March, 10 days before her due date. It was only through the support of family and friends that we were able to get through those first few days.
All of your advice is very insightful. I would add two things.
1. Many people offered to do anything to help. In my mind I would think, do they really mean anything? What I really wanted was for someone to clean my house, but I was too shy to ask. Perhaps suggest things that might be of help and encourage your friend to accept the offers. Our neighbor was mowing our lawn when we returned from our daughter's funeral. It meant so much to my husband.
2. Along the lines of stocking their refrigerator, offer to run any errands that might help. I kept many of my daughter's things, but there were some things I wasn't tied to. I wanted those things returned in case I had a little boy the next time, but also so that I could go through the ritual of buying little outfits and making dreams for another child with my next pregnancy. I sent a friend off with all my credit cards (I really trusted her), and she spent an entire afternoon going from store to store. I also had her return a lot of the electronic items like my breastpump, because I was concerned I might open them in a year and find they didn't work.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Think long and hard before you ask 'have you considered counselling? a support group?' Chances are, they have, and many other well-meaning people have probably also asked. At first it didn't bother me much because I was thinking about how I'd eventually start to process and it made sense that others were too, but as the questions piled up I started to hear it as a 'hurry-up' kind of question, whether or not it was meant that way. Or as a 'please do this somewhere else, you are bringing me down and I don't know how / don't want to help you.'
If you really want to suggest some kind of professional help, how about finding contact info. for local bereavement groups and counsellors and just dropping it off with a little note 'in case you ever want this, thought I'd do the leg work.'
Completely agree on the counseling/support group statement. I feel like when people ask that they are saying this is too difficult for them to deal with why don't I find someone else more qualified. I also very much agree with sayng something. Those that say nothing really bother me. Of all the people that have said something only 2 people have said the wrong thing and they were way wrong... I think what people think is wrong is often forgiven if it is said from the right place in their heart.
One more to add: I cherish the friends that will sit with me in silence. Sometimes I don't want to talk but I want company.
If you're there with your friend in the early hours, encourage her to trust her instincts. The midwives will know the situation but they don't know your friend as well as you do. Pick up on her cues and be her advocate - she's unlikely to be thinking clearly and she may not fight her own battles. Can she stay longer at the hospital to be near her baby? Does she have photos/footprints/hair clippings? Has she bathed and dressed him? Been alone with him? Don't be pushy, but do remember that she has one chance to grab some of these opportunities.
A couple of friends have visited my son's grave and told me about it afterwards. This surprises and touches me a great deal. It's a beautiful gesture.
Yesterday we learned that the baby of one of my two sisters died in utero at 37 weeks. She gave birth to my nephew today. She also has a five year old son.
Our other sister is also pregnant, due at the end of December (six weeks from now).
I have two children, a four year old and a 15 month old. My 4 year old is close to her 5 year old cousin.
My brother-in-law (whose baby son died in utero) says my sister wants us all to come for Thanksgiving as planned.
My intention is to honor my sister's wishes and come, but I will also be prepared to leave if it turns out that being around us is too painful.
Does anyone have any advice for me going forward? I want to be as loving and supportive and helpful as possible. I read the article -- I'm just wondering if, hearing this situation, anyone has any particular reactions. Thanks so much.
My sister-in-law told the dry cleaner so she wouldn't ask "HOW'S THE NEW BABY?!" the next time I stopped in. My husband told the vet but I still didn't take my dog to the vet for months. I avoided restaurants and other places where staff would remember me pregnant. I didn't make eye-contact with the security officer at work or anyone in the elevator who may have remembered that lady on the 7th floor who was very pregnant last month. I switched hair salons and never returned to my dentist. All in effort to avoid that question.
Having to respond to that super-sugary question everyone asks with such enthusiasm is torture.
"She died", "She was stillborn", "She passed away" and once when I was particularly annoyed/pissed (6 months after her death to a nurse at my OB's office) the answer was simply "She's dead."
No one expects to hear that news. The shock on their face -- as they try to control the shocked look on their face -- is just horrid. I would immediately be reduced to tears at the same exact time they are thinking "Her baby died?! oh that's terrible. oops, what do I say now?"
I avoided the new baby question at all costs. I felt that way for almost a whole year after her death. My sister-in-law helped alleviate my misery by calling ahead to two stores we planned to visit in preparation for the funeral. She told the specialty children's clothing shop that I would be coming in that evening to buy a burial dress for my newborn daughter and she called a high-end maternity shop regarding the maternity dress I needed to find to wear to her funeral. The store clerks were so respectful and I wasn't flooded with salesy "What's the occasion??!!" questions. The maternity store even had black dresses in my size already picked out and hanging in a dressing room for me upon arrival. It made that horrible errand actually tolerable. I didn't have to say a thing. A great relief in an otherwise nightmare week (month, year, life).
Telling people about the loss so that mom doesn't have to is so very helpful. Let her know who you told so she doesn't have to wonder who knows and who doesn't. That makes going about life again just a little more achievable.
I especially agree that the partner/husband/father is sometimes ignored. It's important for everyone to remember that he is grieving too. I sometimes worry that my husband is too busy caring for me to take care of himself, and I am too engulfed by my own pain to do anything for him.
I will pass this article on to my friends and family. Maybe it will help them feel less helpless. Thank you again for writing it and for this website.
My heart breaks for her partner, too. I know how much my husband lives to be a father to our children and I can't imagine his pain for his child and wife.
Again. Thank you. Also, for the breastmilk info. Her milk came in today and as a first time mother, I'm not entirely sure she knows just how unwieldly they can become if left unattended. I'm sourcing teas and homeopathics in her area and will see if I can have them delivered. Thanks for the idea and this wonderful resource.
People's reproductive affairs are their own, and no matter what your relationship is to them, it is best to respect their privacy in these matters, especially now, when they are dealing with the most horrible pain imaginable. They may have tried for years to conceive, overcoming obstacles you know nothing about. Asking that question not only diminishes the magnitude of their grief, it also trivializes everything they have invested themselves in leading up to this. You may be curious, but please know that this question does a number on hearts and minds already struggling to just stay afloat. Just honor their grief and let them talk to you.
something else that i wanted to add that really helped me, were the items that were sent or given over the following few months and even years... handwritten letters and cards with my children's names referred to in them, small stones from a beach, glass hearts, etc... anything that was collected and given in honor of my son and daughter, it really made me feel like my children were not forgotten, and my friends and family remembered my loss and were thinking of me and my husband.
and one more thing, family and friends got together and purchased a star from the international star registry, named after our daughter, and then again for our son. while i never would have wanted this, when i received the little constellation map of our babies names, it really meant very much to me, gave their names a permanence beyond this earth. and a family member donated to a local children's memorial lighthouse, where there is a stone for each of our children, with their names written and their birthdates, alongside many other stones for other children who died too soon, all surrounding a beautiful old lighthouse on the shore of martha's vineyard.. i like knowing that their names are there, written for all the world to see, having the ocean nearby, the sun setting and rising on their names each day... so, if there is a way to memorialize their children's name in this way, and it feels appropriate, this could be a wonderful thing to do for someone who has lost their baby.