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Parents Burying Children Is Unnatural


This Texan is a blogging, novel-writing, gardening Momma to thirteen with an irreverent yet enlightening view on life.

Headstone of a Son

Headstone of a Son Dansville, New York

Headstone of a Son Dansville, New York

When a wife dies, her husband is a widower. When a husband dies, his wife becomes a widow. When parents die, their children are called orphans. There is no word or name for the parent whose child dies. Parents burying children is unnatural.

Shock set in.

"Where is my pass and who is going to validate my parking?"

A numbness settles after you get the news your child is dead. People attempt to sugarcoat the facts with euphemisms (She passed away peacefully.), but the fact remains: Your child is dead. "Emotionally overwhelming" leaps to mind to describe the feeling of receiving this news.

The brain knows when the heart is overloaded. It reverts to its most autonomic processes and denies access to conscious thought which would only cause torment, doubt and pain. The numbness is to be welcomed in the beginning. For soon, it will be replaced with active emotion.

The Parade

"This world is far too politically correct. The 'nice' things everyone says [at funerals] hurt because it means they do not care enough to find something genuine to say."

  • She is in a better place.
  • She is not hurting any more.
  • She is with her grandparents now.
  • She is smiling down on you.
  • I know how you feel.

"Horse pucky." -Sherman Potter.

1. Conceptually, dead is not better than alive.

2. No, she is not. Yet, there is little restorative solace in knowing another is out of pain when you carry the pain of grief and death, especially the death of a child. This quote just smacks of "one up".

3. That is a matter of opinion. Imposing your religious beliefs at a wake or funeral is both morally repugnant and obnoxiously rude.

4. See 1, 2 and 3.

5. Until I see the headstone of your child, no. No, no, no, no, NO, you do not.

Parents burying their children is unnatural.

This situation requires different responses than those routinely accepted as appropriate for funerals. This is certainly not a typical funeral. Rather than the tired, tried-and-true, knee-jerk condolences, the things you need to hear are:

  • I cannot imagine what you are feeling, but I wish I could take some of the pain away.
  • I do not know what to say, but if I can do anything, please let me know.
  • Even if all you want to do is vent, I am here to listen to you.
  • I will help you do anything which needs doing.
  • I love you.

Knowing your friends and family are helpless until you reach a point of healing to engage them is something only you recognize. Having them admit it gives you room to grieve in your own time.

The Tour Bus

"When it was time for her to go, I wanted to give into the selfishness...tell the doctors, 'Do whatever it takes.' My broken heart knew, she hadn't the strength to finish that war. I felt I had failed to protect her."

A deranged tour bus carries you past every negative emotion you know and introduces a few new ones:

  • Anger
  • Fear
  • Realization of mortality
  • Self-doubt
  • Guilt and survivor's guilt
  • Questioning of faith
  • Apathy
  • Frustration
  • Sense of failure
  • And more.

During the ride, you cannot see the bus station. You just wish it would come into focus so you could get your bearings on when the emotional horror show will end.

Daily Headstones

"In the many years I live near railroads and subways, the only time I heard the train was when it was late. I noticed something was amiss when the whistle did not blow at the appointed hour or the brakes did not interrupt the silence."

All too soon, the numbness is worn away by the mundane tasks in which security lies: washing dishes, ironing laundry, pets, hobbies, taking out the garbage, work, helping with homework, cooking, running errands, exercise, housework.

This is the time a newborn should be demanding your attention at regular intervals. Sleep should be interrupted by the tiny cries for milk which bring a smile to your face, even when it takes all your strength to get vertical. When you wake up to the still darkness, you contemplate the months you prepared for birth were in vain.

Realization sets in: Someone is missing. Celebrating birthdays, great grades, your spouse's raise, projects complete...It is not the same elation you remembered. Now, it is tainted with the irrational guilt of being happy without your child.

And in the quiet time before sleep, you think of all the birthdays, first times (tooth, step, day of school), graduations...which will never come to be celebrated.

The Abyss

The black hole in your heart sucks every positive emotion into the abyss of grief. Nothing good happens without the silver lining of the cloud turning out to be mercury, heavy and poisonous.

Your other children are no replacement: They came before and have their own roles to fill.

Your spouse has a similar black hole and is distant lest you, and your marriage, be sucked into it.

Your extended family is in a quandary. Even the most sarcastic member cannot find something pithy to bring you to the light of laughter.

Your friends can see it. If they attempt to fill it, they have no purchase when they grab onto the solid portions of your mind they recognize.

Your spiritual adviser is busy plying his trade. All the silly faith arguments seem pale and hollow with no definitive answers to support them.

Know this: When you finally reach the bottom of the abyss, there is nowhere to go...but up.

Time marches on.

"I wish you could have stayed. Your sister would love to be playing with you, and your brother's hair is the exact color of yours. Daddy has your picture on his visor. I miss you."

Reach out. Only other parents who have lost children truly understand what you feel, even if they do not appear to be on your emotional level. At some point they have been where you are. Extend your hand. One of them will take it.

Ask for help. When someone asks, "What can I do for you?" answer, "Chores." Let the ones who cannot understand how you feel help you have the space you need to begin to heal. They can take the everyday, mundane stressors away a few hours at a time.

Cry. Tears do not compromise your strength. Venting makes room for more positive emotions.

Remember. The trauma: You heal from, but never forget. The pain: Subsides over time, but never truly vanishes. The love for your child: Is eternal.

Have faith. If you embrace a higher power, take comfort in it. The death of your child may have shattered your faith, but putting back together the pieces to find an inner peace lost is healing.

Have faith in yourself. There is no pride in saying, "I am a complete person even without my child." You are more than a parent.

Give. The death of your child will forever change you. One day, someone will reach out to you for the strength of your healing. Give it. The circle is complete.

Remember the Good

Virginia Elizabeth

Virginia Elizabeth


The italicized quotes at the head of each section are quotes of the author: At the time, blogged, archived, written or spoken. This work is dedicated to the parents who traveled the rocky road, stumbled along the way or are sitting beside the path unsure of the next step.

Share Your Experience

Questions & Answers

Question: How do I comfort my girlfriend who has lost her only daughter?

Answer: Ensure her physical needs are met. Offer to listen often. Respect her if she asks for distance. Be present. Take her to the doctor and report your observations to the staff. Tell her you love her. Enlist help from others so you can heal also. Help her fill out forms. Take her to very small gatherings. Help her resume hobbies. Pack away baby things when she is ready. Ensure she takes her medicine. Help her get back to exercising. Let her cry without saying a word. Do chores. Cook. Let her know you still think she is beautiful. Be kind. Be patient. Please, do not rush. It will take time for both of you to heal.


Carl D'Agostino on December 12, 2013:

Re death of children: hit me so very hard as Miami is a place where drive-bys are far too frequent. My children , grandchildren and inlaws have survived 5 but at one V was critically wounded by gunshot. I live in prayer and fear every day.

unitify from San Antonio, Texas on August 30, 2012:

I know your pain

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on April 30, 2012:

It is different for each of us. Knowing some of the things not to say is way to be sure to hurt those grieving the least. Sometimes, nothing is completely appropriate to say as well. Just being there is enough to convey sympathy, empathy and condolences.

Thank you for commenting,


DAWNEMARS from The Edge of a Forest in Europe on April 25, 2012:

Thanks for your words of understanding. Grief is a terrible thing and I can only know that this process is different for everyone. People do say some careless things, I can identify with that(remembers). The words do tend to stay with you. I find myself becoming unable to think of things to say at all for example.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on April 07, 2012:

DTM, you are so right. Although similar experiences are everywhere, it is very callous to assume we know precisely how someone else may be hurting. You have my deepest sympathy. I hope your healing continues.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on April 07, 2012:

Thank you, Christy. I value our friendship. As to this piece, it would be unfair of me not to share what I learned from it. Red.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on April 07, 2012:

Thank you, Andro. I appreciate your compliments, as I know they spring from the heart.


dtm14 on February 09, 2012:

Anne Marie,

I really wish I had your list to pass along to family and friends after the death of our 6 year-old in 2010. The one that always gets me is "I know how you feel, I lost my mom." While I feel bad, it is not the same.

Christy Birmingham from British Columbia, Canada on January 27, 2012:

Thank-you for forwarding me the link and sending me for the read. Sometimes I shake my head at the sorrow that surrounds us. How courageous of you to write such a personal experience and give it to us to read. I feel so much closer to you and even more thankful that we have met.


Androgoth on January 14, 2012:

I have read a few of your postings on this hub page my wickedly fine great friend and i concur with many of the fine comments that are spread over your pages that you write exquisitely and on this very difficult and heartbreaking post you have truly excelled...

Do have a wondrously fine rest of weekend Red...

Androgoth XXx

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on January 07, 2012:

Jeanne, there were three women close to me at the time of Virginia's death. All three of them had a miscarriage in common. Singly they each told me how her death brought them to terms with their own losses, as they had discounted them as not the loss of a child, but the loss of the potential. Rest assured, the loss of potential is precisely the same. I have been through both.

Blessings for continued healing and strength for both you and your friend.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on January 07, 2012:

PDX, just know the deranged tour bus does finally get a flat and stops touring. Blessings for healing in your losses. Red.

Jeanne Nicholson on December 30, 2011:

Thank you for writing this and tackling such a sensitive subject. It really provides a lot of insight on how to support my good friend who lost her 2 year old, but it also touched home for myself since I lost my baby halfway through my pregnancy due to an incompetent cervix and I never grieved properly. I think I was in denial. But experiencing the pain that my friend is going through, has brought back some painful memories and I think that I am starting to come to terms with the loss I have had myself. I am staying strong for myself, and for her, and for all of the other parents who have lost children. It IS unnatural.

PDXBuys from Oregon on December 17, 2011:

I lost both my sister and my father in the last eight months. Much of what you discuss is still fresh in my mind. Still riding that "deranged tour bus"...

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on December 01, 2011:


I have disabled children as well. Three are on the autism spectrum, one with GHD and one who required a kidney transplant. Nothing in dealing with their disabilities prepared me for the loss of my daughter.

Devastating news about a child is difficult to handle when the situation requires constant, unchanging care. Knowing you will never be able to provide such care, as demanding as it may be, is an abysmal emptiness which in no way compares.

Congratulations on your granddaughter. I hope she brings you as much happiness as possible. I treasure my grandchildren as well.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on December 01, 2011:

Thank you for your compliment, Arusho. Red.

Elayne from Rocky Mountains on December 01, 2011:

I went with my son and daughter-in-law and their three other children to find out the sex of their new baby. We were all so excited until the nurse doing the sonogram rushed myself and the three younger children out only to find out later that the baby had something wrong with it - she would be born with severe spina bifida. The doctor suggested abortion, but for the parents and us it is not an option. We are so blessed to have little Lily in our family, and although she will never walk, she is a shining light to all of us. She takes constant care - but is so sweet. I imagine losing your child is much harder than learning about a disabled child, but in a way, the feeling of loss is the same. People don't always say the right things and usually out of ignorance - not intended.

here is Lily getting around the house as best as she can - she loves to sing and play - too bad she has to grow up to get the stares and rude comments of the ill informed. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTvtO4uISLk&NR=...

here is another of her singing - who is afraid of the big bad wolf


Her parents have been there for her and she seems very well adjusted despite her paralysis.

arusho from University Place, Wa. on December 01, 2011:

Very well written and insightful.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 28, 2011:

I did notice, Bear. By far, it is one of the hardest pieces I have ever penned. It made the light flicker in my eyes the way a light bulb does before it burns out. Yet, at the end of the day, it tempered me to continue. Red.

Bear on November 28, 2011:

As I have known you for just over a year,I saw what writing this article did for you,If you weren't aware I greived for you as i watched the sadness and the grief that is still there surface.I have read and reread the article several times and each time I gain a little more insight to what you have experienced Very moving a real eye opener to say the least.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 28, 2011:

Oh, Good Lady, I am humbled by your praise. It has not been the easiest of journeys, but I am compelled to share it is a survivable journey. I am thrilled you were moved, and truly appreciate your vote.


Penelope Hart from Rome, Italy on November 28, 2011:

Dear Ann Marie Dwyer, You write powerfully, passionately and importantly because each of your words works to describe exactly, truthfully what you feel, what you know, what you don't accept and what you are prepared to accept - with courage and the clarity that you have earned by following your 'own' thread through your experience of unbearable loss. Yours was the best piece of writing on true pain that I have come across. My guts somersaulted.

I am voting for you. You are a terrific writer. Thank you

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 26, 2011:

Oh, how very wonderful! Thank you, so, Patti! Red.

Patti Riggs Hale from Burdette, Arkansas on November 26, 2011:

Yes, I voted for it for Hub Nugget ;-)

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 26, 2011:

Thank you, Speechless. I understand your mother being cloistered. For me, the month is March. It has taken me years to get to the point I can call my sister on her birthday, the birthday she and Virginia shared.

Rightly so, I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me. I have come full circle. Not by any means does this mean I am 100% past it. I have just come to a place where I can help others...especially those who cannot understand the feeling, but want so desperately to help those who can.

Thank you for stopping to share and comment,


Speechless.. on November 25, 2011:

After reading this blog I felt a pit in my stomach and an over whelming empathy for you Ann. I say empathy and not sympathy because I do not believe you want or care whether anyone is feeling sorry for you. I have never lost a child and can't even imagine how endlessly horrible it must be to go through this. I was deeply effected by the death of my brother William. He was my parents second child and died at 6 weeks old of SIDS (possibly). My parents were completely torn to shreds and never recovered. Though they went on to have 4 more babies the deep damage had been done. Every year in July my mother would lock herself into her room and cry for days. The death of this baby was essentially the end of our family. Thanks for sharing this poigniant yet insightful part of your life Ann. I would never want to hurt one of my friends with one of those insensitive comments you mentioned. Death is never easy but as you have come to find out personally, the loss of a child is different on so many levels.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 25, 2011:

Thank you, Patti! Did you vote for it for Hub Nugget? Red.

Patti Riggs Hale from Burdette, Arkansas on November 25, 2011:

Voted up and beautiful!

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 25, 2011:

Feenix, that is truly what I wished this hub to do. Let those who cannot stand in the shoes have an empathy for those who must. I am moved by your compliment. Red.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 25, 2011:

Dearest McD,

You are so kind. And your mother's loss, even to me, appears immeasurable. My heart breaks just hearing about it. Over time, I have found a measure of peace, one large enough in which to function and draw out the good in others. Thank you for sharing and commenting,


feenix on November 25, 2011:

Hello, Ann,

Although I have never lost a child through death (in fact, I have never even fathered a child), this post touched my heart. And it prompted me to empathize with each of the people who is suffering and enduring such a loss.

John McDevitt on November 25, 2011:

I don't know how you found the words Red. The death of a child is not only unnatural, it's unimaginable. I can't imagine one of my daughters dead. I can't imagine one of my granddaughters dead. Words suck and don't work.

I was the one who drove to my mother's home on a dark night to tell her that her youngest son had just killed himself. I can't imagine what she went through inside. I held her while she rocked back and forth and wailed her grief. Joe was the fourth child (out of seven) she lost. That's unnatural.

Words may suck, may not be enough (how could they be) but your words are one of the most moving pieces of writing I've ever felt (you can't simply read words like yours).

I can't imagine how you did it Red, but somehow you found the strength in your deepest self to go on and come back. I hope you have found some measure of peace.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 25, 2011:

Congrats! Rejoice in the fact you can celebrate with him! Glad you found it helpful. Red.

moonlake from America on November 25, 2011:

So sorry for your loss of your little daughter. This hub will help a lot of people and will explain to many what not to say.

I can imagine the pain I do know how it felt when they told us our son was not going to live. I keep thinking what were we going to do without him. He did live.

I voted up.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 25, 2011:

thank you, Ripple. Yes, there is a place we reach where the pain is bearable. What lifts the spirit is being able to help others.

And thank you for the nomination! I saw my question in the newsletter, too! I am excited! Red.

Michelle Simtoco from Cebu, Philippines on November 25, 2011:

I can't even begin to imagine the pain...gosh...Will there be solace after the pain? I pray so. I hope so. And reading your words, it is affirmed. Thank you so much.

Congratulations on your Hubnuggets nomination. Click this link and follow the trail....https://hubpages.com/forum/topic/87570 Read your email too!

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 20, 2011:

Thank you, Shea. I appreciate you're reading this one. It was not one of the easiest pieces I have written, for certain. Red.

shea duane from new jersey on November 20, 2011:

wow, very powerful.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Thank you so, Angie, for sharing. Grief is not easy, even when you know it is coming. The sudden vacuum created by the one who is gone is so very much like a black hole. Over time, you get far enough not to be in the center of the vortex, yet still feel its insistent pull.

Blessings for peace, Red.

Angela Young on November 19, 2011:

Ann Marie, I think I said this in another post, but I have seen so many struggle with this issue. I have not, so I can only imagine, and I'm guessing I really can't. I've lost a lot of people, but never a child (even a grown up one). When I lost my brother, my mom used to go into the car and just scream and cry for 2-3 hours at a time, hoping to keep her deepest grief private. Even having faith and knowing it's only a temporary separation does not help in the throws of the agony of loss. Mom was reunited with him 2 years later. His baby grandson went to join them a few months ago. Moving through grief is never easy. It's also never easy to watch someone grieve. Thank you for sharing your pain.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:


I have three autistic children (19, 7, 6). I never cease to be amazed at how they view and receive the world. Keep reveling in him! Red.

Terrye Toombs from Somewhere between Heaven and Hell without a road map. on November 19, 2011:

Red: I miscarried a year to the day before my youngest son was born. We thought we would never have a baby. But, our dear little guy will be 5 this Thanksgiving weekend! Another thing we have in common, he's also autistic. I wouldn't change a THING. :o)

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:


I am unsure if it is callousness, impoliteness or merely ignorance of how important what we say really is: content, tone and timing.

Thank you for your comments,


Marc Phillippe Babineau on November 19, 2011:

I lost my parents, brother and niece in a 14-month span. The niece was, surprisingly, the hardest loss. She is known as "The girl who gave her wish away", referring to the Children's Wish Foundation, where she gave up her chance for anything she wanted and had a school and water system set up in a poor African village (See "Maddie's Wish"). No parent should have to bury a child, but it happens all too often, especially with people living into their 8th, 9th and 10th decades.

This article really gives a tug on the old heartstrings, and makes me wonder why, and how people can be so cold towards others while they are grieving.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Thank you, T. I pray you, nor any other parent, ever must. Truly, it is not something I would wish upon anyone. Stay strong, as I am sure your son and little one keep you. Goodness knows, my autistic ones do, Red.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:


While I recognize the emotion tied to your comment, I find it thoroughly off-topic. In spite of your claim to have not read the hub, you refer to words I used, which indicates you did read it and mean your comment only to inflame or incite others to view your profile.

I laud your dedication to your son. I have that same dedication to my NINE, other children and my grandchildren.

Regardless, we will disagree. In the natural order of things, children do not die before parents, save only they fall to predators. Even in the wild, the second generation succeeds the first. Indeed, parents burying children is unnatural.

To insist otherwise indicates a capriciousness of life expectancy unsupported by both history and science.

Thank you for taking the time to comment,


Terrye Toombs from Somewhere between Heaven and Hell without a road map. on November 19, 2011:

Wow. Two kleenexes and still trying to see through the tears. You touched on a topic I'm not ready to face yet. Well written.

kallini2010 from Toronto, Canada on November 19, 2011:

Dear Ann:

I did not read your story. I stopped at the word "unnatural".

I did not lose a child. Seeing my son's name on a grave (whatever the English word for it is, I do not care) is enough.

He is eight now and I was always afraid that I might lose him any day. Why?

That is the reason. The word you used, unconsciously, subconsciously, automatically is simply wrong.

There is nothing unnatural in children dying before parents and you knew it since the age you could grasp the concept of death.

I wanted to have a second child as a safeguard, what if? Just in case... I don't. He is my only. Yes, he can die any day. Tomorrow.

I am facing this truth because I am the way I am. With every beginning I think - what the end could be? would be?

I am not doing it to protect myself from the pain if it will come - nothing could prepare me for a thing like that. I am crying now thinking about him. Not about your child. We are all like that - we relate - but we emphasize because we feel OUR OWN pain.

You might ask me how I dare telling you that I did not even read... I can tell you this - for me to cope with life, not with what might happen, but with what it is happening now - I am cleaning my language, my vocabulary and my perception. I am sick and tired of lies, bullshit that others say when they do not mean it.

They can say it, but I am training my ear to listen and hear the truth. I want to be prepared for any natural pain that life might bring me including death, sudden death... and I want to protect myself from the pain that other people bring me by spinning bullshit, sugarcoating etc.

I want to see things and people for who they are not for what they say. I want everything natural, I have enough artificial.

I am very sorry for your loss and, no, I cannot feel what you feel. I am NOT even going to pretend.

If the price of being and feeling myself is being rejected by proper members of society, so be it.

I will speak my mind. The order of birth is natural. A child does not give birth to a parent.

Once born, we are ALL EQUAL in the face of death. There is not greater equality. We will all die and none of us knows when.

There is no order of death. That is the nature. Regardless of words we use. Nature has no words.

I have no words of consolation. I would not imagine what would console me. NOTHING. If I lose my son and when I lose him - there is nothing can substitute for the loss. A word? For my son? Who brought ME to life?

Yes, Ann, that was quite unnatural, sorry, natural, but unexpected.

Before his arrival, I did not have any guts. When he came along, he started training me as a soldier on a battlefield. He did not obey. He forced me to find solutions, he did not co-operate. And if anything would threaten him enough, I could have killed for my son.

I am fighting for him, with him, and he taught me more than you can imagine. I don't treat him as my possession. For he is not. He is my responsibility. He will leave me one day. He may even not come to my funeral. I don't care. I care about fulfilling my role while I can. Enjoying every moment with him while I can. It took me a long time to realize that all our little fights are really not worth it.

For every moment can be the last.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Certainly, Epi, feel free to share wherever you like. And I call them like I see them. Your poetry is a breath of fresh air to someone who knows laughter is good for the soul. Red.

epigramman on November 19, 2011:

... well you have certainly moved and touched your readers here my friend and to receive such wonderful fan mail from someone special like you and someone who is such a great writer really means a lot to me ....

This is a world class symposium and presentation and these comments reflect the sentiments from so many people who have dealt with such a loss.

I truly do look forward to reading more from you - please allow me to post this to my Facebook page with a direct link back here.

lake erie time ontario canada 2:49am just woke up from night shift sleep and I am watching the high winds and the whitecaps over my lake .....

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Thank you, JT. I will read it, but bear in mind my skepticism after 19 years with autism and trying many biochemical therapies to no avail. Your feedback and information is greatly appreciated. Red.

JT Walters from Florida on November 19, 2011:

Hi Red,

This is so true. I have also provided a biochemical explanatio to autism on my hub s well. You might want to check it out as well.

Excellent hub.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Lord, abruption is what caused Virginia to arrive at the midway point. Thank you for sharing your experience. I am sincerely glad your faith has been restored. Red.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 19, 2011:

Thank you, PBWine. Enjoying your sense of humor. I have said it so many times, yet it bears repeating: Laughter is good for the soul.


Joseph De Cross from New York on November 18, 2011:

I can relate to your pain my dear friend. We lost a baby at eight months and a half. Placenta detached(abruption) and the vessels that held it against the uterus, just gave in, due to a high blood pressure complication. We kept the baby for 4 or 5 hours and then we had to let it go..to join other little angels that confronted the same sad final. Thanks for your words and we still believe in one Creator.


PeanutButterWine from North Vancouver, B.C. Canada on November 18, 2011:

heartbreaking and beautiful; I am following you! Hugs...

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 16, 2011:

You are so very welcome. The more of us who reach out and offer the hand, the sooner more will come to know what is needed when the whole world is out of kilter...unnatural.

I am so very humbled by your praise.


Audrey Hunt from Idyllwild Ca. on November 16, 2011:

Thank you. This was good for me to read. I cannot say more - just thank you so much!


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 15, 2011:

*Grins* The message came through. Thank you!

Deborah Sexton on November 14, 2011:

That should have said "You are a wonderful writer"

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 14, 2011:

Thank you, Deborah. I appreciate your sharing and your compliment. It is a topic I believe more people need to be able to talk about before the need arises.


Deborah Sexton on November 14, 2011:

You are a wonder writer and everything you said is true.

My brother died and my mom took it very hard. It wasn't long after that my mom died too

Thank you for this hub

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 14, 2011:

Thank you, Star. Or Carl or Rod or whichever you prefer. I often have to wonder if others can feel through my writing. Your feedback is appreciated, for it shows my intent accomplished.


Rod Martin Jr from Cebu, Philippines on November 14, 2011:

Welcome to HubPages, @Ann Marie Dwyer. A powerful start. Thank you for sharing such depth of feeling with tenderness and insight.

May healing continue unabated and may you find strength and comfort.

I look forward to reading more.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 13, 2011:

Good point, Distance. A lot of people are looking to blame...for the death, for their feelings, for the perceived injustice...and the list goes on. When you are grieving, sometimes it is immensely difficult to be compassionate for those who are also grieving, but in a different way.

Come again,


distance2010 on November 13, 2011:

This was comforting to read, I do wish that I had stumbled upon this when it hurt the most, but then again while the wound is raw it's hard to speed up the process of healing. This certainly helps to understand that others have gone through similar things and that friends really are not to blame for not knowing what to do. Thank you.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Thank you, Patti. Welcome to my first hub. I hope you like what is to come. Thank you for stopping by and for your faithfulness at my blog.


Patti Riggs Hale from Burdette, Arkansas on November 12, 2011:

I cannot imagine what you are feeling, but I wish I could take some of the pain away.

I do not know what to say, but if I can do anything, please let me know.

Even if all you want to do is vent, I am here to listen to you.

I will help you do anything which needs doing.

I love you.

I am very sorry for your loss. You are right, I can't imagine.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

You are welcome, Sam. So many are afraid to even talk about it. More people need to know how to speak to grieving parents. Come again,


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Ma cherie, I have heard them. For me, the saddest part is she never once cried. It is not an experience I would wish on anyone, friend or foe.

Thank you for stopping to comment.


sam-eg from Happy Land on November 12, 2011:

Hi, it's such a great hub , i know how hard it is to lose someone ,and usually people don't know how to deal with it especially if it is a great loss like losing your own child ,your hub is very useful and helpful, really thank you for your share

Norma on November 12, 2011:

Whether the baby is full term or not it is a loss. Losing your child is hard I know. Even harder is to watch one of your babies try for two years and then lose it. I hate hearing a baby cry and there isn't one there.....

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Thank you, Jimmy. Stay strong.


James Parsons on November 12, 2011:

If you or any one you know has every lost a child then you need to read this article. It is very touching and heartfelt, believe me because I've been there.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Grant, I posted it to your blog. Thank you.


Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Thank you, Bear. I am glad you stopped by to read this.


David on November 12, 2011:

What you write and share with us is remarkable. As I have said before you are an amazining woman for many reasons.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:


From you I take the compliment in highest esteem. I told you it was time. May the words which follow fill the remaining cracks. Red.

Grant Helms on November 12, 2011:

Thanks. I would appreciate the link.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

You are very welcome, Grant. If you like I will link this to your blog post for your visitors. Keep writing, Red.

Valentine Logar from Dallas, Texas on November 12, 2011:

I have no words, except yours take my breath away.

Grant Helms on November 12, 2011:

Anne Marie,

Thanks for addressing this issue. It was a definitive explanation to my Blog from yesterday. Like I said, I don't have all the answers. But having someone like you helps me to understand.

Red Dwyer (author) from Crandall, TX on November 12, 2011:

Thank you for sharing, Lilly. Virginia would have been five this year. I still deal with the rage I felt over the unthinking remarks when I hear them said to others and do not have the capacity to forgive that for which there is no remorse.

I hope you have been able to reconcile with God, as it appears your faith was a cornerstone.

May you find peace.


LillyG on November 12, 2011:

Thank you for tackling this subject. I lost my son, Aaron in 2000 and the feeling was indescribable. The pain and sadness so intense that words could not convey to others how much I suffered. He would have been 11 this past April, and although its easier, my heart still aches for my son. I think of the things you mentioned, the firsts he never got to experience. I also deal with the automatic responses from people, especially "He's in God's hands now." I wanted to scream. I was mad at God, I was questioning everything I was taught about how we are loved, so why put this pain and heartache on me? It was the most difficult time of my life. I hope that others facing this find comfort in your hub and comfort through those of us who have walked this road and can offer insight and support.

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