What Not to Say

This is a link I found on Faces of Loss pretty soon after Cooper passed away.  After he died, I spent hours and hours trying to find a story like ours.  FOL of has hundreds of stories from mom's who had experienced losing a child.  I spent hours and hours reading their stories.  I hated that we all had the same thing in common but at the same time, it was helpful to know that I wasn't the only one who working through everything.  I posted Cooper's story on their not long after he passed away and you can read it here.   It was all started by a mom who lost her daughter at 27 weeks and has since had her Rainbow.  I found her blog and have followed it since.  I love that she made what is the worst thing a parent will ever have to go through into something that will help other moms.  This is one of my favorite posts that she's made.  I can't tell you the number of things people have that have just been stupid or hurtful.  Most of the time I know they aren't trying to be helpful or insensitive but I wish that they thought more about what they were saying.  My thoughts are italicized again.

"She's in a better place now." Excuse me, but I think she would have had a pretty great life here with me and her Dad. Yeah, she'll never experience sadness or pain, but she'll also never get to experience the wonderful things in life like running through the sprinkler, licking chocolate chip cookie dough off the beater, or going on bike rides with her Dad. And that makes me really, really sad.

Riiight.  Yes, I believe and it's comforting to know Cooper is with God. He'll never get picked on, he'll never feel pain or hurt,  but I'd really rather have him here with me.  I am constantly thinking about things he will never get to do or experience.  Michael and I just got back from San Antonio.  While we were there we went to Sea World.  In the middle of the show with Shamu I started crying.  I am sure people were staring at this crazy lady with tears streaming down her face.  I mean really, who cries at a time like that?  But all I could think about was Cooper would never get to see this.  I'd never get to see his face pressed up against the glass looking at everything, he'd never turn around and give Michael and I a huge smile.  That's seriously what I was thinking about Cooper will never get to see Shamu.

"I know exactly how you feel..." Unless you've lost a baby then no, you don't. And that's okay. Anyone who's experienced a loss of any kind can definitely relate, but no two situations, no two losses are exactly the same.

Don't say it, 'cause you don't and I hope you won't. And even if you have, Cooper wasn't yours. He was MINE. You don't know what it's like to have lost Cooper Michael.

"I don't think I would have the strength to go on if I lost my baby." Yes, you would. Because you have to; there's no other choice. Again, this is probably my crazy over-sensitive side taking over, but this almost insinuates I must not love my baby as much or be as sad as I should be because you would be sadder and more distraught if it happened to you.

I had no choice, there wasn't another option to consider.  There wasn't an option to dig another hole and jump in, Michael wouldn't let me and I wouldn't let him.  So we had to pick ourselves up and start living even if we really didn't want right then.  We're still living and breathing almost 10 months later and we're starting to find reasons again why life is good.

"Everything happens for a reason." I'm sorry, right now I just don't think I'll ever look back and say I'm glad Stevie died. Ever.

I am waiting for the day someone says this to me, try me and see what happens.  I am waiting for the day to ask God "Why Cooper?"  You can bet I'm going to line jump and ask Him that.

"It was probably for the best, she might have had something wrong with her." First of all, she actually didn't have anything "wrong" with her. She was perfect. But if she did have medical issues or disabilities, we would have loved her just the same. I would prefer to have my baby alive and in my arms either way.

We know that if Cooper has survived he would have most definitely had quite a few medical issues as a result of having NEC.  They very well could have followed him for the rest of his life.  But we would have loved him and we would have done anything needed to take care of him.  Michael already had thoughts of re-enlisting in the Air Force to provide for him and to make sure he was going to be taken care of.  Michael was going to put on hold his what he wanted to ensure Cooper was taken care of.

"At least you're still so young..." Yeah because since I'm only 24 (almost 25!) I'm less sad about my daughter dying? I just don't even understand this one.

And that means??? Oh, right, just because I'm young means I can still have kids.  Because that still doesn't make a difference, Cooper's not coming back just because I'm 'young'.  And I bet if you talk to any bereaved parent they will tell you that it has aged them tremendously.  We both feel much older than what or birth certificate says that we are.

"You'll have other kids." Hopefully this is true, but right now I don't just want a kid, I want my kid. The one that I loved and wanted and died. Even when we have other children someday, they will never be Stevie. I will always miss my firstborn.

Yes, hopefully we will but that doesn't change anything.  I loved Cooper. I wanted Cooper.  No child can feel that whole in my heart.

"You're lucky you now have an angel watching over you." Lucky? Seriously? I'm actually feeling like the most unlucky person in the world right now. I don't want an angel, I want my baby. If I'm so lucky, are you hoping your baby turns into an "angel" too? I didn't think so.

Really? Let's see how you would feel if our roles were reversed?  Would you really feel lucky then?  I think I was doing just fine without having an angel.

"God has so much to teach you through this experience." Not saying I'm perfect in any way, or that I don't have things to learn, but I can think of plenty of people who could stand to learn a few things in life that get to keep their babies...I would have much preferred to learn my life lessons in a way that didn't involve my child dying.

Yes there are things I can learn from this but I would have rather not learned those lessons.  And if there were lessons to have learned, weren't there some ways I could have learned them without using Cooper? 

My mother always said that if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all.  I think this still applies. We don't need some perfect piece of advice, just be there for us, give us a hug or even a simple "I'm sorry" is wonderful to hear.  And above all, please please please don't say nothing. Just think before you speak.