Ask the Blog Team: How Have You Handled Well-Meaning But Hurtful Comments From Those Around You?

Welcome to our Q+A series, Ask the Blog Team. In this series, the Hope Mommies blog team joins together to answer questions that are commonly asked in grief. If there is a question or topic that you have wrestled with in your grief that you would like the opportunity to see how other Hope Moms have processed or answered, we would love to hear from you. You can submit your questions here.

---

These comments used to hurt me, and if I am being honest, they still can. But I try to extend grace to these people. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, and I tell myself that they are most likely trying to be helpful and loving. I also pray for them; I pray that God would soften my heart towards them and guard my heart against bitterness. 

What helps me the most when people make these sorts of comments is to understand where they are coming from. People don’t want you to be in pain, so they try to minimize the hurt as much as possible. They don’t realize that minimizing the hurt feels like it is minimizing what you’ve been through and that makes you feel unvalidated. At the root, they want you to be happy. I try to give them grace and also remember how hard it is for them to know what to say. 

I know how badly these flippant remarks hurt, but most of the time people say these things from a place of wanting to help, however flawed their methods may be. I try to see intention above the reality of what was said whenever possible. Having been through the grieving process several times now, I’m somewhat embarrassed that I still don’t know the right words to say when I witness someone else grieving. I think that’s because no words in the human language could possibly console the depth of pain from losing a loved one. Even though these comments hurt, they’re typically meant to try and make you feel better. We all know that nothing anyone could say could make losing a child any better. Nothing. When people say things that sting, I try to focus on the fact that they showed up and tried, and choose to give them grace for being imperfect just like me.

I try to educate with grace. Experiencing infertility after loss often brings the “it’ll happen” empty promises. I often respond with, “God hasn’t promised me a baby,” or “But if it doesn’t, that’s okay too, I trust God.” Otherwise, I try to be slow to anger and extend massive amounts of mercy (which, might I add, is probably my lowest spiritual gift). Early on it was, “When can you try again?” This question was very hurtful, because I felt as though that person was devaluing Anna’s life. I learned to pray like Jesus, “Forgive them Father for they do not know.” And that’s the honest truth, they really have no idea. Give grace, and discuss it calmly when appropriate. 

I used to respond with a sharp comment or get wounded. The years have taught me to offer grace. People don’t know what I’m feeling, and I’m glad they don’t. I wouldn’t wish the pain of losing a child on anyone. I try to believe they are trying their hardest to offer comfort. 

Grace. It’s hard, but I adopt the assumption that they really do mean well and are simply ignorant. I certainly didn’t understand the deep and complicated grief that comes with pregnancy loss until I had experienced it myself.

To be honest, I have not always handled this well, and I’m even a therapist. I have experienced much of this within my own family and circle of friends, and it has been devastating. My grief in losing my son Isaac forced me onto a road I didn’t choose. Part of that grief has taken me away from people I love, and that has been extremely painful to me. I am still grieving, and have recoiled at some of the well-meaning things people have said, but especially the things that were never said by those I thought would be there for us in the dark and long suffering stages of our grief. 

Slowly, and I mean slowly, I have learned to accept the fact that people who haven’t experienced loss and grief don’t know what it’s like, and therefore, will probably not know what to do or how to be there for me in the ways I want them to be. However, it has meant a lot to me when people who couldn’t fully relate to me in my sorrow expressed a desire to understand. I appreciate those who have fumbled their way through trying to say something and acknowledgment of my loss because of their care for me. 

I’ve had to release the hurtful things that have been said, even if in tiny increments, as the resentment and bitterness that come from holding on to that hurt only make me feel worse. I’ve also spoken up at times to tell someone how their words have been hurtful or simply untrue in order to educate them. Still, I’ve had to realize that they may not always understand. My job is to honor the Lord and speak truth to my story, with or without the full understanding from others.

---

Are you a writer who would like to join the blog team? Learn more and apply here.

---

---