Sometimes I wonder what the reality is. I was told, in bits and pieces, things about being a mother. Didn’t I hear about the great love mothers have for their children? From my own mother hadn’t I heard some tidbits of motherhood?

Perhaps you were told, but like me, you didn’t have the capacity or interest to listen and understand at the time. You weren’t a mother; you had no child. How could you have possibly known what to expect or prepare for?

And now, you are a mother of a precious child. You change diapers, wake at all hours, share you body with a nursing infant, feel your mind becoming frazzled, and just when you’ve learned to sleep through crying, you are pregnant again. Along comes child number two and then three, and one day you look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Wow! Nothing could have prepared me for all of this! Nobody told me there would be days like this!”

Here are a few things that you have learned:

• You can stir the spaghetti sauce with one hand and hold a fussy baby in the other.
• Snuggling and reading books together is time well spent.
• Your heart is built stronger than a Samsonite suitcase, larger than the Montana sky, and like the Energizer battery, it will keep going and going because nothing beats like a mother’s heart.
• Your children will not always look like cherubs. One day they will have long hair, wear the same shirt for days and smell like teens only a mother could love.
• They will blame you when things go wrong and when they go beautifully, they will forget to thank you.
• Your thoughts will be filled with “I told you so” but you will learn to refrain from saying that line as your mother learned early on.
• You will see that a child’s laughter warms more effectively than a blanket.
• You will start to hear yourself saying those cliches your mother swore she’d never say. Things like, “Do you think money grows on trees?” and “If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you jump off a cliff?”
• You will learn how the expression to bend over backwards for someone came into our language.
• You will bend and break and mend and bend some more.
• And if a child dies, you will want to, too. You knew you loved, but the absent child will cause you to realize the vastness and incredible depth of a mother’s love. You will look for the simple, but magnificent of life — rainbows and sunsets– but nothing will fill that hole your child’s death leaves in your heart.
• Your children will beg for independence, and when you give it to them, they will ask you to be there, right next to them.
• You will grow old and hopefully watch your children grow older. They will make mistakes, cry, make mistakes again, and you will see your hands can heal and soothe and comfort.
• You will learn that sometimes all they need are pancakes for breakfast.
• And if you get to travel and see the Eiffel Tower you will feel kin to it — for you, too, are like steel. And as the sun sets behind the Eiffel Tower, and you marvel at the beauty, marvel at your own beauty. You are a priceless work of fine art.

You are mother.

Related reading: Read one mother’s story of her miracle baby

Oh, we talk about the best cold medications and if cherry cough syrup tastes better to kids than orange.

Then we clam up. We don’t want to hear. We are threatened. If her child died, mine could, too. What can we do when parenting goes beyond the normal expectations? “What do I say?” friends ask me with a look of agony in their eyes. “I feel so helpless. I can’t empathize, I haven’t had a child die.”

You can help. You don’t have to stand there with a blank stare or excuse yourself from the conversation. You can be informed so that you will be able to reach out to a friend who has lost a child.

“Jump into the midst of things and do something,” says Ronald Knapp author of the book, “Beyond Endurance: When A Child Dies.” Traditionally there are the sympathy cards and hot casseroles brought over to the bereaved’s home. But it doesn’t end there. That is only the beginning of reaching out to your friend or relative who has recently experienced the death of a child at any age.

Here are 15 tips you can learn to make you an effective and compassionate friend to your friend in pain:

1. Listen. When you ask your friend, “How are you doing today?” wait to hear the answer.
2. Cry with her. She may cry also, but your tears don’t make her cry. She cries when no one else is around and within her heart are the daily tears no one sees.
3. Don’t use cliches. Avoid lines like, “It will get better.” “Be grateful you have other children.” “You’re young, you can have another baby.” “He was sick and it is good he is no longer suffering.” There will never be a phrase invented that makes it all right that a child died.
4. Help with the care of the surviving children. Offer to take them to the park, your house for a meal, to church. Say “May I please take Billy to the park today? Is four okay with you?” Don’t give the line, “If you need me, call me.” Your bereaved friend may not feel comfortable with asking for help.
5. Say your friend’s child’s name. Even if she cries, these are tears that heal. Acknowledging that the child lived and has not been forgotten is a wonderful balm to a broken heart.
6. Give to the memorial fund. Find out what it is and give, today, next year and the next.
7. Some mothers start to collect items that bring comfort after a child dies; find out what it is your friend is collecting and buy one for her. My son liked watermelons and we have many stories of watermelons and him. Therefore my house now has assorted watermelon mementoes — a tea pot, kitchen towel and soap dispenser. Many mothers find solace in rainbows, butterflies and angels.
8. Send a card (I’m thinking of you is fine) but stay away from sappy sympathy ones.
9. Go to the grave. Take flowers, a balloon or a toy. How honored your friend will be to see what you have left there the next time she visits the cemetery.
10. Don’t use religion as a ‘brush away’ for pain. Stay clear of words that don’t help like, “It was God’s will.”
11. Don’t judge her. You don’t know what she is going through each day, you can not know of the intense pain unless you have had a child die.
12. Stay in touch. Call to hear how she is coping. Suggest getting together, but if she isn’t up for it, give her space.
13. Read a book on grief, focusing on the parts that give you ideas on how to be a source of comfort for your bereaved friend.
14. Know she has a hole in her heart, a missing piece due to the death of her child. Holes like these never heal so accept this truth and don’t expect her to ‘get over’ this loss.
15. Remember that with the death of her child, a part of her died — old beliefs, ideals, etc. Her life has been forever changed. Let her know your love for her as well as God’s love for her is still the same.

Even as you participate in the suggestions above, you will still feel uncomfortable. It has been three years since the death of my four year-old, Daniel, and even now when I meet a newly-bereaved mother, I am uncomfortable. Talking of the untimely death of a child is never easy for anyone. However, avoiding reality does not bring healing. You will provide many gifts of comfort along the way when you actively decide to help your grieving friend. When my friends and family acknowledge all four or my children, the three on this earth and the one in Heaven, I am honored. Each time it is as though a ray of warm sunlight has touched my soul.

Resources:

When A Child Has Died: Ways You Can Help a Bereaved Parent. Bonnie Hunt Conrad. Fithian Press, 1995.

When Your Friend Is Grieving: Building A Bridge of Love. Paula D’Arcy. Harold Shaw Publishers, 1990.

Beyond Endurance: When A Child Dies. Ronald J. Knapp. New York: Schocken Books, 1986.

Slices of Sunlight, A Cookbook Of Memories. Alice J. Wisler. Daniel’s House Publications, 2000.

Then we clam up. We don’t want to hear. We are threatened. If her child died, mine could, too. What can we do when parenting goes beyond the normal expectations? “What do I say?” friends ask me with a look of agony in their eyes. “I feel so helpless. I can’t empathize, I haven’t had a child die.”

You can help. You don’t have to stand there with a blank stare or excuse yourself from the conversation. You can be informed so that you will be able to reach out to a friend who has lost a child.

“Jump into the midst of things and do something,” says Ronald Knapp author of the book, “Beyond Endurance: When A Child Dies.” Traditionally there are the sympathy cards and hot casseroles brought over to the bereaved’s home. But it doesn’t end there. That is only the beginning of reaching out to your friend or relative who has recently experienced the death of a child at any age.

Here are 15 tips you can learn to make you an effective and compassionate friend to your friend in pain:

1. Listen. When you ask your friend, “How are you doing today?” wait to hear the answer.
2. Cry with her. She may cry also, but your tears don’t make her cry. She cries when no one else is around and within her heart are the daily tears no one sees.
3. Don’t use cliches. Avoid lines like, “It will get better.” “Be grateful you have other children.” “You’re young, you can have another baby.” “He was sick and it is good he is no longer suffering.” There will never be a phrase invented that makes it all right that a child died.
4. Help with the care of the surviving children. Offer to take them to the park, your house for a meal, to church. Say “May I please take Billy to the park today? Is four okay with you?” Don’t give the line, “If you need me, call me.” Your bereaved friend may not feel comfortable with asking for help.
5. Say your friend’s child’s name. Even if she cries, these are tears that heal. Acknowledging that the child lived and has not been forgotten is a wonderful balm to a broken heart.
6. Give to the memorial fund. Find out what it is and give, today, next year and the next.
7. Some mothers start to collect items that bring comfort after a child dies; find out what it is your friend is collecting and buy one for her. My son liked watermelons and we have many stories of watermelons and him. Therefore my house now has assorted watermelon mementoes — a tea pot, kitchen towel and soap dispenser. Many mothers find solace in rainbows, butterflies and angels.
8. Send a card (I’m thinking of you is fine) but stay away from sappy sympathy ones.
9. Go to the grave. Take flowers, a balloon or a toy. How honored your friend will be to see what you have left there the next time she visits the cemetery.
10. Don’t use religion as a ‘brush away’ for pain. Stay clear of words that don’t help like, “It was God’s will.”
11. Don’t judge her. You don’t know what she is going through each day, you can not know of the intense pain unless you have had a child die.
12. Stay in touch. Call to hear how she is coping. Suggest getting together, but if she isn’t up for it, give her space.
13. Read a book on grief, focusing on the parts that give you ideas on how to be a source of comfort for your bereaved friend.
14. Know she has a hole in her heart, a missing piece due to the death of her child. Holes like these never heal so accept this truth and don’t expect her to ‘get over’ this loss.
15. Remember that with the death of her child, a part of her died — old beliefs, ideals, etc. Her life has been forever changed. Let her know your love for her as well as God’s love for her is still the same.

Even as you participate in the suggestions above, you will still feel uncomfortable. It has been three years since the death of my four year-old, Daniel, and even now when I meet a newly-bereaved mother, I am uncomfortable. Talking of the untimely death of a child is never easy for anyone. However, avoiding reality does not bring healing. You will provide many gifts of comfort along the way when you actively decide to help your grieving friend. When my friends and family acknowledge all four or my children, the three on this earth and the one in Heaven, I am honored. Each time it is as though a ray of warm sunlight has touched my soul.

Resources: