My child died and no one knows what to do with people like me

I am the great white whale of mothers. I am Bruce Wayne. I'm a member of one of the worst clubs on Earth. My child died and the rest of the population doesn't know how to act around people like me. In true Sterling fashion, I'm going to try and educate anyone who cares to read this post. 

No one ever expects to lose their kid. It's terrible. I've never felt this type of pain before and honestly, it's far worse than I ever imagined. People are all kinds of uncomfortable around me, which I get. No one knows what to say, but then again, neither do I.  

  1. Feel free to complain about your life, but not to me. A person has every right to complain about things, even the small things, and most people choose to do so all over social media. Not my problem, not my job to police them. It is my responsibility to unfollow or hide people in my newsfeed. However, if you are talking to me directly, it would benefit you and I if you kept your complaints to yourself. In all honesty, I don't care about the pains of modern day life, how your kids have been acting up, or how much it will cost to do this or that. Yes, I care about you because you are a human being, but your troubles seem inconsequential to me in my current stage of life.

  2. Having other children will not fix my pain or problems. Another bereaved mom friend of mine shared something on Facebook once. One of the comments was something along the lines of "you'll have other children one day, blah blah blah." For Cal and I, having more children of our own is not an option. Heaven help the first person who says "have another kid" to me. Lol. On a more serious note, even if a person has ten children, losing one will always hurt and nothing could ever replace that family member. It is insensitive to think (and worse, say!) that another child would fill that void. No one will EVER fulfill the longing I have for my princess.

  3. What do you talk about with a bereaved parent? I guess that depends on the person. I want to talk about June. I want to remember funny little stories about her. I'd love to hear about the wonderful things happening in your life! I want good news. Looking at someone and having them project their sadness about my child onto me doesn't help me. Every person is different, so I can't promise this is the same across the board. But it's okay with me if you ask about how I'm doing or want to share in the joy of her brief life.

  4. I want to be left alone, but I don't really. It's not good for me to sit at home by myself all day. If you and I are people who hang out, don't forget about me. Ask me to coffee, let's plan a date. There are a few gals who have made a point of getting me out of the house. (Girls, thank you!!) Losing a child is incredibly isolating and I don't want to be isolated. Of course, some alone time is good. I need time to quiet my mind and heart before the Lord. Still, don't forget me.

  5. People are already forgetting about her. I hate this. Even in my inner circle, there have been entire dinner experiences when June wasn't even mentioned. Or a 2 hour conversation went by and June's name was only used because I brought her up....and the conversation quickly shifted to something else. That hurts my heart. I understand this will happen over time, but this is still so fresh and June was the center of our lives. I want to talk about her all the time, like she's still here, just like any parent would talk about their child.

If you read this, I hope you'll understand what a weird situation I'm in. Before all this happened, I was just like you. I had no clue how to interact with those curious women who had lost a child. I'm still adjusting to my new way of life. It is difficult.


For the future, I am refocusing my blog. More on this to come, but I want June's life to make a difference. I don't want people to forget her. So, you'll be seeing posts similar to this one.