My Wish List

1. I wish my baby hadn't died. I wish I had her back.

2. I wish you wouldn't tell me I could have another baby. The truth is I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace her. Babies aren't interchangeable. Please don’t ask me if I will try to have another baby, I can’t answer that yet.

3. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my baby's name. She lived and is very important to me. I need to hear that she is important to you also.

4. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my baby, I wish you knew it isn't because you have hurt me. My baby's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my baby, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both. The truth is I need to cry and talk about my baby with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.

5. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and like it is my fault.

6. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my baby, my favorite topic of the day. The truth is I love her and need to talk about it.

7. I know you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my baby's death pains you too. I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.
Please don’t think that you'll keep away because others will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am often left with no one.

8. I wish you wouldn't judge me because I'm not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently.
My grief will not be over in a few weeks or months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. The truth is it may get easier with time but I will never be "over" this. I will suffer the death of my baby until the day I die.

9. I am working very hard on my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my baby, and I will always grieve that she is dead. Please don’t think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act.

10. I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.

11. I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of my baby, the love I feel for my baby, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for my baby are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.

12. I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

13. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you. Losing my baby has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before and will never be that person again.

14. When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.

15. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So, please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

16. Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

17. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly it is not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.

18. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my baby died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before my baby died, and will never be that person again.

19. I wish you would remember the father. The truth is he is suffering too.

20. I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain BUT, I pray that you will never understand.

21. I wish you don't think bad of me for posting this list. The truth is it needed to be said.

~Author Unknown~

Monday, April 13, 2009