Stupid Situation #9: Losing Friends When You Lose a Child

What is it about our culture that makes us expect everyone to be happy all the time? If you're grieving for longer than the acceptable grieving period, you are thrust into the category of "a lost cause" by some. Those friends who were very supportive and caring about the loss of your child suddenly grow impatient for things to go back to where they used to be.

The one thing that our friends forget is that we don't know how to go back to where we used to be.

When you lose a child, it's like a impenetrable wall slams down behind you, and there is no going back. You might be able to salvage some of who you are, but it's only memories. You are cut off. All you can do is stumble forward, like an adventurer in a new cave who has lost her map, her lantern, and her soul. Hidden in the cave is the "new you". Unfortunately, it's hard to find something if you don't know what it looks like.

The definition of a friend is someone who is there for you through good or through bad, through happy times and sad times, who supports you and gives you the criticism when you need it the most. In the past year, I have noticed that the friends I had pre-loss now fall into one of the following two categories:

a) The friend who steps up to the plate. This friend can be a long time friend, but more likely, this is a friend who you didn't realize was that much of a friend. This is a friend that has been there and who calls you and texts you even when you don't want to talk. They keep checking up on you. They let you talk, and they listen, and when you're ranting and raving about the meth head who's allowed to have a child but you've lost yours, they're ranting along with you.

b) The friend who sends you a card, but then refuses to bring it up, or doesn't call, and certainly doesn't write. It's like your child never existed. This friend is eager for you to move on, to go back to the old you. When you decide to do that, they'll probably be there.

The sad thing is that many of us thought that those friends who are in category b were our best friends, friends that we have had for years. Yet when I look at my friends in category a I find that I've made a huge mistake. I've discounted those people who have come through for me in the past, yet these are the ones who have been there no matter how much I'm crying or laughing. I am blessed to have these friends.

As for the ones in category b, as much as it pains me, they need to be cut loose. Having a friendship should not be stressful. It occurred to me the other day that one of them hadn't even said "I'm sorry" when I told her I had lost a third child. Why did I accept this as okay? It's not okay. It's not remotely okay. Friendship is a two-way street.

I've also learned in the past year, is that I can make new friends, ones who truly understand me. These women I have met in the depths of despair, and we are clinging to each other as we walk through hell. I saw a quote the other day that said "beautiful people are not born, they're made". These new friends of mine have been crafted from pain and sorrow, which breeds sympathy and love. I wouldn't trade these new friends for anything.

But as for those who haven't been there? I'm not hunting them down. Maybe one day they too will lose a child and they'll finally understand...but no one will be listening.