I turned my attention back to Aidan, got him out of the car, and turned to talk to our friend, who was still across the street. I called across the street and asked him how he and his wife were doing. We mentioned that we should get together and do games again. Still across the street from each other, I asked him, "When's your wife due again? It's been too long since we've seen you!"
A familiar look came across his face. It was a look I could feel as well as see. A look that comes across my face when people ask me a question I'm not sure how to answer.
He looked down and said, "Well...about that..."
He walked across the street, looked at me, looked down again, and said, "My wife was actually due this month, but we actually had the baby in November...she didn't make it."
My heart twisted, and I got a catch in my throat. I felt awful. Like my doctor said, no one gets invited to the club. No one wants to be in the club.
I asked him if they knew what happened, how his wife was doing physically and emotionally, how he was doing, and if I could bring them dinner that week. I think I was still in shock as I was driving home. I couldn't stop thinking about them, and I couldn't stop thinking of what I could do to help. Even though I had been through a similar experience, it's hard to know how and what to do to help.
As I've thought about it and read others' blogs, I've compiled a list of ways to help. Everyone is different in the way they grieve, but here are a few things that helped Jayze and me:
- Cards and Care Packages - For weeks after Alma died, we received cards in the mail practically every day. It helped so much to know so many people loved and cared about us. We felt like we weren't alone in the trial because of all of the kind and hopeful words, stories of others who have gone through the same thing and passing along things that helped them, and words of encouragement and love. We received so many care packages, too. Some were anonymous, while others were from dear friends and family. Some of the care packages were "blue boxes" that held items meant to brighten your day. Believe me, after a full day of school and work, it was good to come home to another little present I could unwrap and feel comfort in knowing I wasn't forgotten. Jayze and I also received personalized gifts - he got a key chain and with the letter 'a' and baby footprints on it that he carries on his personal key ring, and I got a necklace with baby footprints and Alma's name on it. We don't know who they're from, but they mean the world to us. It's a solid object that helps us remember our baby.
- Facebook/Email Messages - I think this pertains more to me than Jayze because he doesn't really check Facebook all that often. :) But I remember feeling prompted to get on Facebook the day before I went to the hospital to give birth to Alma. The last thing I wanted to do was "see" people in my state of mind, but message after message provided comfort and strength to get me through the next day. So many kind words and thoughts meant so much, particularly from one who had gone through almost the same thing and let me know that she loved the day her son was born. I was scared to have Alma because I didn't know what was going to happen, but her words gave me the courage and helped me cherish every moment I had him in my arms because it would go by so fast. It did go by fast, but I'm so grateful that I can look back and have no regrets knowing I did all I could to feel the warmth of my baby's spirit.
- Use the loved one's name - A few weeks after Alma was born, I was at church waiting for Jayze to get out of a meeting. I was sitting on the couch in the foyer when a woman from my ward came and sat by me. We chatted for a little bit, and got on the subject of kids because hers were running all over. (super cute). She took me by surprise when she asked me about Alma (and used his name). She asked if he had any hair, how much he weighed, how tall he was, what his features were like - if they were more like Jayze's or mine. It was so refreshing talking about Alma like he was a real person. A lot of people avoid the subject altogether, so it felt good talking about my baby. Not very many people saw him, so it sometimes seemed like it didn't happen at all. Like I was pregnant and then all of a sudden wasn't and almost had to hide the fact that I had a baby. Granted, sometimes it's hard to talk about him, but it's good to know people care and think of him as a real person and not as something "bad" that happened.
- Be there even if you don't know what to say. - I remember going to church and wondering if everyone had forgotten what happened to Jayze and me. I also remember checking my phone a lot to see if I got a text from any of my family members or a phone call just to check in to see how we were doing. Sometimes I didn't want to be the one to reach out, but I wanted others to reach out to me (a little selfish, I know). Even if they didn't know what to say or when I didn't want to answer the phone when I was having a hard time, just knowing someone cared enough to text or call meant so much. It meant I wasn't forgotten.
- Sincerely ask how they are doing. - The women I worked with were a huge blessing. They provided such strength and encouragement and always a listening ear. They treated me like a real person. They kept giving me projects and kept me busy, but they also sincerely asked how I was doing. I was at the copy machine one day, when one of the women walked by, stopped, walked back to where I was, looked me in the eye, and asked me how I was doing. That's all it took to get the tears going, but it also felt so good to get the mask off and really talk about how I was really doing. It was therapeutic to talk to them about my anger, how sad I was, how hard it was to be happy, them encouraging me to keep writing on my blog, and just being there. They helped me see things from an eternal perspective and also gave me wise advice of ways they've dealt with death of loved ones. None of them had gone through the same thing as me (one of their daughters went through something similar), but the way they voiced their concern helped heal my heart in so many ways. One time a woman came into the office with her baby boy. Of course, all of the ladies loved that baby to pieces, but there I was in the corner on the phone with an employee trying not to have a breakdown. After the woman left, one of the ladies touched me on the shoulder, tenderly let me know how long that woman had waited for her baby, asked me if I was okay, and went back to her office. I silently excused myself to walk quickly down the hall and cry in the bathroom. Those small, simple gestures made me realize she noticed that I was having a hard time, she took the time to comfort me, and was patient with me as I grieved. She cared for "the one."
- Don't give up. Jayze and I received so much help right when Alma passed away and for a few weeks after. But it seemed like it was just when the help started teetering off that I started having a really hard time. Keep in touch, offer to bring over dinner, offer to hang out, even a couple of months after the event.
- Food - Our ward was awesome and brought us dinner the day we found out we had lost Alma. Jayze's sister and brother-in-law brought us dinner that night, too. It was a relief not having to worry about cooking or even figuring out what to eat. Having food in the fridge was a huge blessing.
- Finances - No couple should have to figure out funeral arrangements for their child. When originally we talked about buying baby things, all of a sudden we had to talk about the casket, autopsy bill, funeral home bill, burial plot, travel expenses, and so many other things. We had no idea what we were going to do. Thankfully, so many earthly angels offered to help out. Tender mercies came from everywhere, even after the funeral was over. We were immensely grateful for all of the help, because we couldn't have done everything we did without it.
- Socialize. This one pertains especially to Jayze because he loves being around people. When I'm having a hard time, I tend to distance myself and become even more introverted. That said, I think people were inspired to invite us to do things with them. I admire our friends' courage in inviting us over. Because they didn't treat me like a charity case, I sincerely felt their love. We got invited to play games, have dinner, I even got invited to a few baby showers and found out it's possible to still be happy for someone who is having a baby even when I lost mine. It was good to get out of our lonely home and spend our time laughing instead of crying.
- Be aware of what you say. When someone goes through a huge loss, his or her heart is broken and very, very tender. Even the smallest comment let me angry, hurt, or overwhelmed with grief. We had just lost our firstborn child, and we didn't know why. There were times (and still are) that I couldn't comprehend that this was our story and that life still went on. Our dream was shattered, and I didn't know how to pick up the pieces. Most of the time there are good intentions behind what people say, but please, please, please be aware of who you are talking to, what you are saying, and how it's going to affect him or her because emotions are still high so soon afterwards. Especially when the grief truly hits.
- Thoughts and Prayers - I knew if nothing else helped, prayers would. Before we lost Alma, I had never before physically felt the effect of someone's prayer. But somehow I could physically feel all of the prayers said in our behalf. They gave me strength to keep going and brought me comfort and peace in a way that nothing else could.
- Blogs/Talks/Scriptures/Quotes - I remember walking home from school one day, and it had been a hard day. As I walked up the stairs to where we lived, I saw someone had taped a quote onto my front door. It had a magnet on it, and it's still on my fridge to this day. That small gesture of kindness made my day brighter. A girl in my ward also referred me to a couple of blogs that I still read. They have helped me so much in knowing I'm not crazy or alone in my feelings. Quotes, stories of similar experiences, scriptures, and blogs have helped me in my healing process. It doesn't take much time to send a quick note of encouragement to someone, and something that seems small is huge to someone else.
Just remember that everyone is unique in the way they grieve. Be sensitive to their needs, let them know you are there, show up with dinner one night, and show them they are not forgotten.
