I am pretty new here, been mostly lurking for the past few weeks. I lost my baby boy at 37.5 weeks. He was fine and moving around like crazy on Sunday and then on Monday he was gone. Its been a month and I still can not believe that this happened. I think one of the hardest parts is how alone I feel. I have friends that don't call me anymore claiming to give me space. Women who go out of their way to avoid me in public, like stillbirth is catchy. Does it get any easier? Why does it seem like it is harder now than it was in the first week?

Oh, honey. I'm so sorry for your loss, but glad you've found us here.

Does it get any easier? Yes, it does. Gradually. Whether the load lightens or we become accustomed to it is something I've yet to figure out, but either way, it does eventually get easier.

It probably seems harder now because you aren't is as much shock. Denial, disbelief, sure, but the initial shock is wearing off and you are beginning to try and adjust to your life now. Your return to the old life that is completely altered from anything recognizable.

Unfortunately, very few people know how to address baby-lost mothers and fathers. They don't know what to say and often don't want to make it worse and so they avoid - more comfortable for them, easier for them and they have no idea just how painful that is and how much it hurts to be abandoned in your grief. They think they are doing you a favor, or talk themselves into believing that.

If you reach out, some people will reach back and hold you if you can tell them you need them. But some won't. It's a terrible reality for a lot of us that friends and family drift away, frightened by us, scared of the hard facts of the fragility of life we represent.

But there will be relationships that are stregthened. There will be new people who can sit with you, who understand the ways in which you have changed and accept you as you come.

We will sit with you, we are here whenever you need us. I can't promise you when it will get easier, but it will. For now, just keep breathing in and out, in and out.

What was your son's name, if you want to share?

I'm sorry you need to be here Erin but glad you found us. I felt very alone as well and still do some of the time. I like being places like here where people understand - it helps. A lot of us have blogs as well and that helps too (if you click our names, you'll see them).

I felt much worse a month after Matilda died that just after. It's what Eliza said - the shock wearing off. Also, in the early days I still had things to do for Matilda like the funeral, sending cards back to people, going back to the hospital and all of those things made it feel like I could still do things for her. Everyone is different but I felt the worst consistently (all day long - I still feel like that in patches but they're much shorter) about 4/6 weeks after.

It does change. The waves of intense raw pain come further apart and are shorter. I think also as you get further on you realise they will pass which makes them more manageable somehow. In the early days I was convinced I was going to feel like that forever even though people kept telling me I wouldn't.

It's a sad truth of this that some people can't sit with you in your grief. I find it hard to be around those people now - it feels false and those friendships will never be what they were. But on the flipside, I'm much closer to some people who were only friends of friends before. Tell your friends what you need. I wanted space so was happy for them to avoid me. But if they're real friends who are going to be able to walk this road with you then they'll appreciate being told what you need and should be able to do that.

On a more practical level, look after yourself physcially. I never realised grief would feel so physical and if you're tired and not eating well it'll make everything more difficult to deal with.

Do whatever feels right to you and don't let anyone tell you that you should be approaching your grief the way they think is right. Whatever you feel is right.

I'm sorry and I hope you can find some support here.

Maddie x

I'm so sorry for your loss, Erin. I can't say it any better than the women have above - it will eventually be less raw and intense, I don't know when it will happen, but it will. You'll always carry the sadness with you but in ots of time, you'll wear it differently.

As for the friends - sigh. I lost the majority of my friends since my stillbirth and it stung. Outside of losing my baby, it was something I struggled with a lot. Eventually, the anger I felt towards them subsided (it's not gone entirely - I'm not a saint!) but I try not to think about them anymore. They are people who aren't in my life anymore. I am closer to the ones who remained.

Again, I'm sorry about your boy. When you're ready, I'd love to hear more about him. I'm sure he was perfect. Sending love.

Erin, I am so, so sorry for the loss of your son. I hate it that any of us has to go through this.

Losing my daughter 4 months ago has been the loneliest experience of my life. The friends who I thought would run to my side were no where to be found. I got a lot of the "we're just giving you space" nonsense, too. Can't you give me some space to grieve, yet still reach out, if only to say "I'm so sorry" and "I'm thinking about you"??? I have come to realize that "giving you space" means "I can't handle your grief. I want to stay in my comfortable world, where bad things never happen. Your loss is just too much for ME to deal with." Four months later, there are still some so-called friends who have never even acknowledged our loss. Needless to say, those people are no longer people I count as my friends.

I came to a point where I asked myself: Who are the friends I want to keep after all of this? For those few people, I swallowed my pride (and I have a lot of it), reached out and told them, in specific terms, what i needed. In most cases, those friends were relieved to know what to do. As for the rest, I learned their true stripes. On my more charitable days I can give them a pass, rationalize by saying that they just didn't know what to do or say. On more bitter days (like today, unfortunately), I am stung by their betrayal and anger festers within me. It seems so unfair that not only did I have to lose my baby, but I had to lose friends. But, obviously, those friends would've been lost at some point anyway.

As the other women have said, you will learn who your true friends are. Some people will disappoint you horribly. Some will surprise you in wonderful ways. I hope for you that your friends fall more in the "happy surprise" camp than not.

It will get easier, Erin, I promise. A month out is the worst. The shock has worn off and you are left trying to make sense of something utterly senseless.

Please know that we are here to help you in any way we can. You will always find an understanding and sympathetic ear here.

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2009/11/13/one-day-at-suppertime.html#comments

Erin, I don't know if you've had a chance to go back through some of the old posts here or not. I was going back through some of Kate's posts to find one or two that especially impacted me and I found this one. It addresses that feeling of 'does this get easier' that you ask about. I hope it helps some.

Erin, I wish we could hold this space for you- take it away. I don't want you to need to be there- our losses feel so huge I will never understand why someone else has to feel it- live it. One lost child carries enough sorrow to fill the Earth's atmosphere. I'm sorry you are here. But since you are, I'm really relieved that you found us here. I agree with all of the above- we stand witness with our wounds and say it will not always be this acutely raw. Believe that and remember it if it helps you. It's the truth. For now- be with your life- feel it, knowing it will change,... the light will creep back in over time. So much light to you and your family.

Thank you so much for your comments. It helps to feel that I am not alone in any of what I am experiencing. I have also found that people that I thought of just as aquaintances have really stepped up and been fabulous friends to me at this time. Its just so disorienting dealing not only with my grief, and the disappointment I have in my old friends, but then having all these new friends who I am not really comfortable opening up to completely. Thankfully we have been attending grief counseling, and now I have found this site.

Eliza - since you asked, we actually did not give the baby a name. Well, thats not entirely true, we had picked a name for him, but since that day I have not been able to say it or write it. So he remains forever just my baby boy.

Oh Erin, I'm so so sorry. You are definitely not alone here. We all understand all too well. But like the others have said, it won't stay as raw and painful forever. Someday you'll even laugh again, and I don't mean an awkward half-laugh but a full on belly laugh. But for now, just know that. For now, just breath, just live in the moment and let yourself feel how you feel. Be gentle with yourself above all.

Erin, that is entirely understandable. I'll keep your baby boy in my thoughts with my own baby boy.

I wish you a moment of calm in the storm.

Erin, I am sure that whatever name you gave to your baby boy is a beautiful name. I can understand wanting to just keep it in your heart.

I'm so very sorry Erin.

I think it does ease a little with time. I would have referred you back to the same post that Eliza already has. I'm not at the place that Kate describes yet but I'm edging closer.

That feeling of being contagious is awful. I think that people avoid us because they don't know what to say, not considering that we ourselves don't know what to say to them either. The people who stepped up for me were not the people I would have predicted either. I agree with your description, disorientating.

Thinking of you and your baby boy. x