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5 things I didn't want to hear when I was grieving and 1 thing that helped

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.


In 2013, I found out I was pregnant with triplets.

Image via iStock.

My husband and I were in shock but thrilled at the news after dealing with infertility for years. And it didn't take long for the comments to begin. When people found out, the usual remarks followed: "Triplets?! What are you going to do? Three kids at once?! Glad it's not me!"

After mastering my response (and an evil look reserved for the rudest comments), I figured that was the worst of it. But little did I know I would be facing far worse comments after two of my triplets passed away.

On June 23, 2013, I gave birth to my triplets, more than four months premature.

My daughter, Abigail, passed away that same day; my son, Parker, died just shy of 2 months old. Before then, I didn't know much about child loss; it was uncharted territory. Like most people, I wouldn't know how to respond or what to say if a friend's child passed away.

Image via iStock.

But two years later, I have found that some things are better left unsaid. These comments come from a good place, and I know people mean well, but they sure do sting.

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.


1. "Everything happens for a reason."

It's a cringeworthy comment for those of us who have lost a child. Sometimes, there is no rhyme or reason for why things happen in life. A parent should not outlive their child. I don't know why my body couldn't handle my pregnancy or why I went into labor at 22 weeks.

This phrase goes along with another I often hear: "God only gives us what we can handle." I remember talking with my childhood rabbi the night before my son passed away, and I asked her, "Why me?" Her response is something I now live by every single day. She said, "God doesn't give us only what we can handle. He helps us handle what we've been given."

2. "They are in a better place."

Instead of comforting, this is a phrase that makes me feel down in the dumps. I longed to be a parent for so many years. And children are meant to be in the loving arms of their parents.

I think I speak for every grieving mother and father when I say, we would give anything to hold our babies again.

3. "At least you have one survivor. Count your blessings."

I like to think of myself as a positive person. But even two years later, my heart still aches for Parker and Abby. And on the most difficult, dark days of grief, it's hard to "count my blessings."

Yes, I am blessed. I have a gorgeous miracle child who is the light of my life. But Peyton should be playing with her brother and sister in our home, not just waving to their pictures and blowing kisses to heaven.

4. "You are still young. You can have more children."

It doesn't matter whether or not our biological clock is ticking. Many people have no idea what couples go through to have a child: Some can't have children of their own; others may face years of infertility or miscarriages. And for people like me, trying for more children may be something too scary to even think about. I came close to death after delivering my children — that's enough to scar me for life.

5. "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't imagine losing two children."

Some days I don't know how I do it either. But we learn how to live with it. We learn a "new normal," and in those tough moments, we celebrate that we survived the day. This comment is a difficult reminder of our grief and the children who were sent to heaven.

So, what should you say to a grieving parent?

Image via iStock.

There are no words to take the pain away, of course, but simply letting that person know you are there for them is more than enough.

For me, the best thing someone can do is to talk about my angels. Say Parker and Abby by name, and don't be afraid to ask questions about them.

While they were only here for a short time, they left a huge imprint on this world. I love talking about my angels, and simply hearing someone else mention them by name is enough to wipe away the grief and warm my heart for days.


This article was written by Stacey Skrysak and originally appeared on 7.15.16

Image from Pixabay.

I still miss her.


My mother died from ovarian cancer when I was a young child.

I'm in my late 30s now, and I'm still navigating this loss as I move through life. I've lived most of my life without my mother at this point, but I still miss her.

Here are three things I've learned since losing Mam:


1. Grief is not linear and is not solely expressed through tears.

Someone you love has been taken away from you, and your heart has broken into pieces. It's natural to grieve, but we all grieve differently. Grief shows up in anger, sorrow, guilt, fear, and sometimes peace. It is unpredictable and, at times, exhausting.

I cried when my mother died, and I cried at her funeral when my school choir sang "Be Not Afraid." I didn't cry much in the immediate years that followed — not directly as a result of Mam's death, but probably indirectly related to it. I certainly felt fear and anger and other emotions related directly to my loss.

Then sadness hit me like a ton of bricks one day when I was in my early 20s. A compassionate friend asked me about Mam, and as I hadn't spoken about her to anyone outside the family, I broke down. It was a good release. The years have brought many stages of grieving.

Mother's Day is never easy. Shopping for my wedding dress without my mother brought up intense feelings of loss. And sometimes it just hits me hard, on a regular day, yanking me out of my pleasant thoughts. A mother in a dressing room with her daughter, and they're trying on clothes together, admiring how the other looks. The mother telling the daughter how beautiful she is.

Or a friend of mine, meeting her mother for lunch and Ican't even imagine what that would be like! I can't even fathom the amazing joy of having lunch right now with Mam! And then I get that heaviness in my chest and my stomach feels bad.

There's no closure. My grieving stems from having loved so deeply. I have learned to tune into the emotions I'm feeling and to acknowledge the love, the pain, and the loss.

2. There are no replacements.

Nobody can replace your mother. We love our mothers in our own individual ways. Our mothers care for us when we're sick, guide us in life the best ways they can, listen to us, and love us unconditionally.

For a mother, her child is always her first priority. And we sense this. We feel it. We know it, even if she doesn't say it.

moms, daughter, parents, motherhood, love

I was told that she called me her little angel.

Photo provided by author Carmel Breath.

My mother was beyond happy when I was born a healthy baby girl. I was told that she called me her little angel. She carried me in her womb for nine months.

By the time I was born, we had that unbreakable bond, and she knew me from that first second of my existence. There's never going to be a replacement for that person who loved me probably more than she loved herself. The joy in her eyes when she saw me, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me, the pain in her eyes when she had to say goodbye are all ways that I remember the deep love she had for me.

Mam prepared lunches for me every day to take to school, named muffins after me because they were my favorite, and surprised me with the best doll she could find when I was a few years old. She repaired my soft toys when they tore, taught me to have manners and sit up straight, wiped my eyes when I cried and my nose when I was sick.

Today I look for certain qualities in people. I look for a warmth, a radiance, a compassion and kindness that Mam had. I look for humor, a voice of sense, and strength of character. These are traits that my mother had. I find some of them in others.

But it's never the same. There'll never be another Mam. She's irreplaceable on so many levels.

3. There are other people who will love you and other people for you to love.

Family members and friends will love you. They might not know exactly what your needs are or how to address them, but it's worth reaching out to them. People struggle with different things.

Perhaps family members cannot love you or be there for you, and we may have to look around, let go, and reach further than we might want to in order to find the people who really love us, but there is someone out there to love you, and there's someone in need of your love.

I was blessed with the kindest, most devoted father who gave my brother and me all the love and care we needed. My dad is a gem in my life. He calls me to hear my news and to share his. He worries when I'm not feeling good and is overjoyed when I'm happiest. He listens to my concerns and trusts me to make the right decisions.

My dad has helped me so much in dealing with my loss, through caring for me and loving me unconditionally. I have the most wonderful fiancé who loves me to no end. And I've friends in my life who I know truly care about me.

I've been blessed with a lovely family, but it doesn't mean that I don't reach out to others. I've reconnected with old friends after years of distance. I've discovered things I have in common with others and opened up to new friendships.

Having people to love is truly healing. I was a kindergarten teacher for 10 years. I loved the children in my care, and they showed me so much love in return. By spreading love, we invite more love into our lives. Try volunteering or working in a school or a hospital. There are people everywhere in need of love.


Our world is so big and yet so small now in this age of technology. We can reach out to others across continents.

Our mothers were the first to show us the true meaning of love. In honor of our mothers, let's spread that love wherever we can.


This article was written by Carmel Breathnach and originally appeared on March 5, 2017

Canva, @emilykmay/X

Lying in bed and looking out the window with no one asking for anything? Yes, please.

It's hard to explain the relentless intensity of having young children if you haven't done it. It's wonderful, beautiful, magical and all of that—it truly is—but it's a lot. Like, a lot. It's a bit like running an ultramarathon through the most beautiful landscape you can imagine. There's no question that it's amazing, but it's really, really hard. And sometimes there are storms or big hills or obstacles or twisted ankles or some other thing that makes it even more challenging for a while.

Unfortunately, a lot of moms feel like they're running that marathon alone. Some actually are. Some have partners who don't pull their weight. But even with an equal partner, the early years tend to be mom-heavy, and it takes a toll.

In fact, that toll is so great that it's not unusual for moms to fantasize about being hospitalized—not with anything serious, just something that requires a short stay—simply to get a genuine break.


In a thread on X (formerly Twitter), a mom named Emily shared this truth: "[I don't know] if the lack of community care in our culture is more evident than when moms casually say they daydream about being hospitalized for something only moderately serious so that they are forced to not have any responsibilities for like 3 days."

In a follow-up tweet, she added, "And other moms are like 'yeah totally' while childfree Gen Z girls’ mouths hang open in horror."

Other moms corroborated, not only with the fantasy but the reality of getting a hospital break:

"And can confirm: I have the fondest memories of my appendicitis that almost burst 3 weeks after my third was born bc I emergency had to go get it taken out and I mean I let my neighbor take my toddlers and I let my husband give the baby formula, and I slept until I was actually rested. Under the knife, but still. It was really nice," wrote one mom.

"I got mastitis when my first was 4 months old. I had to have surgery, but my hospital room had a nice view, my mom came to see me, the baby was with me but other people mostly took care of her, bliss," shared another.

Some people tried to blame lackadaisical husbands and fathers for moms feeling overwhelmed, but as Emily pointed out, it's not always enough to have a supportive spouse. That's why she pointed to "lack of community care" in her original post.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, but it also takes a village to raise a mother. Without the proverbial village, we end up bearing too much of the weight of childrearing ourselves. We're not just running the ultramarathon—we're also carrying the water, bandaging the blisters, moving fallen trees out of the way, washing the sweat out of our clothes—and we're doing it all without any rest.

Why don't moms just take a vacation instead of daydreaming about hospitalization? It's not that simple. Many people don't have the means for a getaway, but even if they do, there's a certain level of "mom guilt" that comes with purposefully leaving your young children. Vacations usually require planning and decision-making as well, and decision fatigue is one of the most exhausting parts of parenting.

Strange as it may seem, the reason hospitalization is attractive is that it's forced—if you're in the hospital, you have to be there, so there's no guilt about choosing to leave. It involves no decision-making—someone else is calling the all shots. You literally have no responsibilities in the hospital except resting—no one needs anything from you. And unlike when you're on vacation, most people who are caring for your kids when you're in the hospital aren't going to constantly contact you to ask you questions. They'll leave you to let you rest.

Paula Fitzgibbons shares that had three kids under the age of 3 in 11 months (two by adoption and one by birth). Her husband, despite being very involved and supportive, had a 1.5 hour commute for work, so the lion's share of childcare—"delightful utter chaos" as she refers to it—fell on her shoulders. At one point, she ended up in the ER with atrial fibrillation, and due to family medical history was kept in the hospital for a few days for tests and monitoring.

"When people came to visit me or called to see how I was, I responded that I was enjoying my time at 'the spa,' and though I missed my family, I was soaking it all in," she tells Upworthy. "My husband understood. Other mothers understood. The medical staff did not know what to make of my cheerful demeanor, but there I was, lying in bed reading and sleeping for four straight days with zero guilt. What a gift for a new mom."

When you have young children, your concept of what's relaxing shifts. I recall almost falling asleep during one of my first dental cleanings after having kids. That chair was so comfy and no one needed anything from me—I didn't even care what they were doing to my teeth. It felt like heaven to lie down and rest without any demands being made of me other than "Open a little wider, please."

Obviously, being hospitalized isn't ideal for a whole host of reasons, but the desire is real. There aren't a lot of simple solutions to the issue of moms needing a real break—not just an hour or two, but a few days—but maybe if society were structured in such a way that we had smaller, more frequent respites and spread the work of parenting across the community, we wouldn't feel as much of a desire to be hospitalized simply to be able to be able to rejuvenate.


This article originally appeared on 9.7.23

Pop Culture

Andy Grammar shares how he 'goes on offense' with grief over his mom's death

"Grief doesn't have to be something that just hits you when you're not ready for it."

Andy Grammer shares one beautiful way he processes his grief over his mom's death in his daily life.

When you lose a loved one, the grief can sometimes feel impossible to bear. Time may help to soften the initial blow, but grieving is an up-and-down process without a specific trajectory or timeline. Some small thing can happen to trigger a memory—a song, a sound, a smell—and a wave of grief can hit without warning.

But is there a way to proactively manage grief rather than just react to it? According to singer and songwriter Andy Grammer, there can be, and it's really quite lovely.

If you don't know, Grammer is the multi-platinum recording artist behind a slew of uplifting hits such as "Keep Your Head Up," "Good to Be Alive (Hallelujah)," and "Lease on Life." He's known for his positive, optimistic songwriting, which might lead some to assume he's not experienced a painful loss. On the contrary, Grammer's mother, Kathy, passed away from breast cancer when he was 25, and her death rocked his world.

He's written about her in many of his songs, but he also takes an approach to grief that he refers to as "going on offense."


In an interview on Podcrushed, Grammer explained what he means by that.

"If I see someone that's the same age as my mother in front of me in line, I'll go on offense and I'll be like, 'Hey, I lost my mom and I don't get to buy her stuff. Would you mind if I bought your coffee?' I'll just live that way. And when you live that way, crazy stuff happens."

He shared a story as an example.

Grammer was eating breakfast at a cafe in Boston back in 2018 near where he was playing a show. He saw a group of women about his mom's age at a table and had that feeling that he wanted to buy their breakfast. He hesitated because it was so close to the venue he was playing and he didn't want to seem like he was doing something nice to draw attention to himself, but the feeling persisted.

"Finally, I just give into it and I walk over and I say, 'Listen, my mom passed away. One of the things I like to do for her is just pay for women's breakfasts sometimes. It would mean a lot to me…if you would just let me pay for your breakfast this morning.' The lady on the left just starts bawling. And she says, 'I lost my son. He was about your age.' So we both stand up and I'm just like bawling with a stranger."

The worst thing that can happen when you stay open and follow those inner promptings, Grammer says, is that you feel stupid sometimes if someone responds like you're being weird. But most of the time, that's not the reaction.

"I dare everyone to live and to play with it," he said. "Grief doesn't have to be something that just hits you when you're not ready for it."

He suggests to people who are grieving the loss of someone to think of something specific about that person, something they did or something they loved, and go out and offer that thing to other people.

"Their thing was to make bread? Set days and make bread and give it out. Go on offense to be a part of it, and get this really sweet feeling of remembering them."

Watch how he explains:

@podcrushed

Go on offense with grief 🖤 #grief #loss #lossofaparent

Grammer's approach really resonated with people who have lost loved ones themselves.

"I don’t who this man is but I just lost my dad who just turned 60 and I struggle so much with it. I’m sobbing at how beautiful this approach is," shared one person.

"Lost my dad to the pandemic and this feels like this thinking I might be a game changer for me. Thank you," wrote another.

"I’m so utterly affected by this conversation. It speaks to healing with community by giving ourselves permission to connect with others," shared another.

"Thank you. My mom died two years ago and I’m so tired of people telling me to get over it and move on. I want to celebrate her all the time," someone else added.

"THIS IS SO GOOD. I lost my mom too and could not agree more. I’ve never heard it explained like 'offense' love it ❤️❤️," added another.

Grammer and the hosts of Podcrushed went deeper into grief processing in their full conversation. You can listen to the Podcrushed episode with Andy Grammer here.