Following Matthew’s birth and death, we were flooded with thoughtful gifts and gestures, for which I am forever grateful. Everything from flowers to trees, care boxes, jewelry, candles, cards, and meals, among many other sweet items - I was floored by the creative ways people memorialized him.

Each gift brought joy…and tears…, and I was continually moved by how his short life touched my people.

Naturally, in time, the sentiments dwindled as people returned to their routines while our world remained at a standstill. With that came the pressures to “move on,” “get over it,” and “let it go” - which any loss family will tell you doesn’t actually happen. We learn to take our next steps forward, allow grief and joy to co-exist, and eventually find our way to living well as we live our child’s legacy, but we never actually get over their death.

That's where the “what I wish people had done for me” void exists. It’s in the platitudes, the rush to move on in life after loss, and minimizing the lasting impact his death leaves on our family - the future moments missed, the incomplete family photos, missing our firstborn, our only son, our big brother. There’s just not a moment he’s not longed for, and I live with that reality daily while everyone else gets to return to everyday life.

Baby Matthew Morrow by NILMDTS Affiliated Photographer Diana Welden

I wish people thought more before speaking, even just a quick self-check of “Would that comfort me if my child died?” - even better, a willingness to actually sit in what that would feel like and how the platitudes would land. Because I think that’s really the disconnect - people are uncomfortable with death, they are unbearably uncomfortable with babies dying (rightfully so), and in their own self-preservation, they rush us back to “normal” when our life is palpably anything but.

I wish people were willing to sit in the suck, embrace the tears, and acknowledge that my child’s death is worth mourning and that I will always mourn his absence.

People need to know that it won’t always be this heavy, but it’s ok that it is right now, and it’s important the griever be allowed to process what’s happened fully.t’s a necessary step in a well-adjusted life after loss. With that also comes a recognition that no one gets to define this time frame but the griever.

One more thing, I wish there was more support for the Dads. While I’m eternally grateful for the gifts that showed up for me, my husband received almost nothing just for him and was expected to return to normal even faster than I was. Dads grieve differently, and need (and probably won’t acknowledge that they need) different support.I wish there were more resources, gifts, and ways to support them as they feel pressured to be “the strong one” for the family.

All in all, I have to say people showed up for us in big ways. What people loving on loss families can do better is walking the road with them for longer, recognizing that their life is permanently changed and expecting that they are permanently changed because of their child’s absence…and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing if we let them grow through grief. They’ll find their way, they’ll thrive. If they are allowed to experience the grief and not be rushed through it, healing comes.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, a dedicated 501(c)(3) non-profit, offers families experiencing pregnancy and infant loss with complimentary remembrance portraits, capturing precious moments with their babies. Your generous donation can help us extend this heartfelt service to more families in need. Please consider supporting us here.