You Don't Know What To Say? It's Okay

I am quickly learning that people really just have no clue. We want to help each other and be there for each other, but we just don't know how. And you know what? That's okay. We don't have to have the answers all the time.


I have also quickly learned that if you've never been through what someone else has, you just can't truly understand how they feel. You can sympathize and feel awful for them, but you just don't know what they are feeling and going through because you haven't been there.


Friends of mine, and even people I hardly know have been trying to comfort me over the past week or so over the miscarriage. They love me in their own way and they just want to show it the best way that they know how. I understand this and I appreciate it. But there is a fine line between what is meant to be a kind word, and what is just unacceptable to say to me at this time.

You know that saying your mom used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" - that applies here. If you don't know what to say, then just tell me that. Tell me that you love me and that you're thinking about me, but you just don't have the words to comfort me. Don't tell me that I'm lucky I wasn't very far along. Or that at least I know that I can get pregnant. Or that your friend had it so much worse so I should be thankful.

There isn't any possible way that that makes me lucky. There's no way that because I was able to talk to my husband on the phone three times or see him for a few hours, I have this any easier than someone. I don't compare my pain to anyone else's except my own. Please do the same.

If we went by my due date, I was 13 weeks pregnant. The baby was only 6 weeks and 3 days.

What some people don't seem to realize is that no matter how far along I was, the fact is that I lost a baby. It doesn't matter if I was 2 months, 7 months, or made it full term and had a stillbirth. My baby is dead. And that is a terrible thing.

It's okay for me to mourn. It's okay for me to cry. And however long it takes me to heal, just be here for me. Give me a hug. Call or text me just to let me know that you're thinking of me. Don't disappear and don't try to make me feel better. Run your words through your head. If it would hurt you, then just don't say them to me right now. Give me some time to get past all of this, and then talk to me about how this could be a blessing in disguise.

I believe in God. I trust in Him. I trust that he has a plan for me, and eventually I hope to understand why this happened. But if I don't I am comforted in the fact that He does.

Just love me. That's what I need.