|For those who don't know what to say.
Don't ask me if I'm over it yet. I'll never be over it.
A part of me died with Noah.
Don't tell me he is in a better place.
He is not here with me, where he belongs.
Don't say at least he is not suffering.
I haven't come to terms with why he suffered at all.
Don't tell me at least I have other children.
Which of your children would you have sacrificed?
Don't ask me if I feel better.
Bereavement isn't a condition that clears up.
Don't force your beliefs on me.
Not all of us have the same faith.
Don't tell me at least I had Noah for so many minutes, hours or days.
When would you choose for your child to die?
Don't tell me God never gives us more than we can bear.
Right now I don't feel I can handle anything else.
Don't avoid me. I don't have a contagious disease, just unbearable pain.
Don't tell me you know how I feel, unless you have lost a child.
No other loss can compare to losing a child. It's not the natural order of things.
Don't take my anger personally.
I don't know who I'm angry at or why and lash out at those closest to me.
Don't whisper behind me when I enter a room.
I may be in pain, but I'm not deaf.
Don't stop calling me after the initial loss.
My grief does not stop there and I need to know others are thinking of me.
Don't be offended when I don't return calls right away.
I take each moment as it comes and some are worse than others.
Don't tell me to get on with my life.
We each grieve differently and in our own time frame - grief can't be governed by any clock or calendar.
Do say you are sorry.
I'm sorry, too, and you saying that you share my sorrow is far better than saying any of those tired clichés you don't really mean anyway. Just say you're sorry.
Do put your arms around me and hold me.
I need your strength to get me through each day.
Do say you remember Noah, if you do.
Memories are all I have left and I cherish them.
Do let me talk about my Noah.
Noah lived and still lives on in my heart, forever.
Do mention Noah's name.
It will not make me sad or hurt my feelings.
Do let me cry.
Crying is an important part of the grief process.
Cry with me if you want to.
Do remember me on special dates.
Noah's birth date, death date and holidays are a very lonely and difficult time for me without him.
Do send me cards on those dates saying you remember Noah.
Do show my family that you care.
Sometimes we forget to do that in our own pain.
Do be thankful for children.
Nothing hurts me worse than seeing other people in pain.