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What NOT to say to a mother who has lost her child

When my twin daughters died 25 years ago, I thought I'd heard the most cruel words of all.

Written by Connie Small, November 17, 2000

When my twin daughters died 25 years ago, I thought I'd heard the most cruel words of all. My babies were born three months early and lived only three hours. Two hours after their death, I was awakened by a baby crying. The baby of my roommate. When I screamed for the nurse to get me out of there, she told me as she was wheeling me to another room, "You're gonna have to get used to this."

Well-meaning people said, "You can have another one.", as if I could replace the ones who died. "At least you didn't have them around long enough to love them.", forgetting I had loved them for six months already.

When my angel Cassy died, I never thought people could be as cruel as they were 25 years ago. But they are. They don't mean to be, but to me, it feels that way.

"At least she didn't suffer." How do they, or I, know that for sure? I wish I had a guarantee that she had not a second of pain.

"Thank God you have three others." Each of my daughters holds a place of their own in my heart, that can't be filled by anyone else.

"You have to let go of her so she can cross-over." It had been six days! How can I let go after having her in my life for 20 years? How do I stop loving her and wanting her to be with me?

"God needed her more." Does that mean I didn't need her enough???

"She's in a better place now, so you should be thankful." My child left me in such a violent way that didn't even let me say good-bye. I'm supposed to be thankful for this searing pain that never leaves?

"You have to get on with your life and stop grieving so much. She wouldn't want you to be so hurt." Can't I have more than nine days to mourn the death of the child I carried under my heart for nine months?

"It was her time to die." Does that mean it isn't supposed to hurt?

"Is there anything I can do?" Yes. Bring my child back to me. Wake me from this nightmare.

"You have to eat something, you know. Do you want to get sick and die?" I'm not hungry. I'm not going to starve. And dying is not a threat to me.

I've heard, "I'm so sorry.", so many times, I never want to hear it again in my life. I've been hugged so much, I feel my insides are raw. I know those are automatic responses and I admit, I've said "I'm so sorry" and given many hugs in similar circumstances. And I'm sure I will again. But, I've discovered what helped me more than anything.

What can you say? "I'm here if you need me." I'll reach out when I need you the most. I promise.

What has meant the most to me? "I'm just calling to let you know I'm thinking of you." Those 15 second phone calls give me much comfort. Or, an email, "Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you."

Ask me about my Cassy. "What was she like?" "What did she do that made you happy?" "Tell me what made her special to everyone." DON'T stop talking about her. I still NEED to acknowledge her life and my love for her. Don't pretend that if you don't mention her name, I won't be hurt. I'm hurting anyway. If I can't talk about her, my pain would be worse. Just because she's gone, doesn't mean my love for her went with her.

And sometimes, I just need for you to sit with me. You needn't say a word. Just help me cry.