Good Old Facebook

I would like to start by apologizing if this post sounds angry, self-righteous, or self-pitying. I have said before that my goal is to be totally honest in sharing my feelings, and this is one of those posts that is totally honest. It may also be angry, self-righteous, and self-pitying, but it is at least honest. I have thought and thought about whether to post on this topic, I've asked trusted friends for advice, and I've talked to other moms about whether I am being too sensitive or confrontational. What it comes down to is that this is something that is bothering me, and the best way for me to make it stop doing so is for me to write about it and let it out. Just know that this all comes from a place of goodness, a desire to help and educate, and a need to give a voice to myself and other mothers of children who are dead to the world, but still very much alive in our hearts.

To say that losing Max has changed me is to put it lightly. To say that my grief has transformed me is more accurate. Max's death and the sense of loss and grief that I continue to feel have completely eradicated parts of my personality and replaced them with new ones. Where it hasn't done that, it has at least altered other parts. This includes my sense of humor and what makes me laugh. I am more sensitive, and I am definitely more easily offended. It used to take a lot to upset me. I rarely thought that a joke "crossed the line," and I'm sure I am guilty of offending many with my one liners and sarcastic comments. I've always had a pretty dry, sarcastic sense of humor. That hasn't changed, but I am perhaps a little more reserved with my wise cracks now because I know what it means to be offended by what is meant to be a harmless joke. I used to be amazed at how offended people could get over silly little jokes. Can't they just forget about it, I wondered. Why do they let it bother them? Now I understand. It's an involuntary reaction. At least for me it is. I don't want to be upset by anything that someone says, especially when the person is either (a) completely ignorant or (b) well-intentioned (or at least not ill-intentioned). Still, sometimes things bother me, and I can't help it. I try to "forget about it" or let it roll off my back, but I can't. If you know me or are a follower of this blog, then you are probably assuming that this little diatribe has roots in some recent experience. You would be correct. As ridiculous as it sounds, this all started with Facebook. If you are on Facebook, then you have undoubtedly seen the Ecards that people have been posting like it's their job. Here is an example:

These cards always have some sort of "old time" drawing accompanied by a "funny" message. A few weeks ago, one of my Facebook friends posted this one:

Things that I still find funny:  witty one-liners, a clever pun, people falling, dirty jokes, impromptu karaoke sessions with Aaron Baker. Things I don't find funny:  insensitive jokes like this one, bragging about the fact that you are blessed enough to not know what it's like to lose a child. Honestly, I don't find jokes about dead anything to be very funny. Remember that viral video that shows a little girl playing with a dead squirrel? Creepy, not funny. That said, I do understand why people would find this funny. It can be seen as a statement on the high expectations placed on moms today, it can be a statement about how dangerous the world can be and how demanding it really is to be a mother. It can also be seen as an incredibly insensitive thing to say to a mother who can't say that all of her children are alive. Maybe I would have thought it was funny before Max died. Maybe I would think it was funny today if Max were still alive. I don't think I would, but I don't have the luxury of knowing whether I would or not. I can say that I've always been a little bit too superstitious to joke about my kids' lives, but that's beside the point. The point is that Max did die, and that changed me. Not only do I find this ecard unfunny, but I find it pretty offensive. I wish I didn't. I wish I could brush it off, but I can't. I don't want to be bothered by petty things like this, but I am. Like I said, I'm more sensitive now, especially when it comes to comments about anyone, especially children, dying. I just don't think it's something to be taken lightly. The last thing that I want people to think about me is that I'm bitter or that I use Max's death as an excuse to hop on a soapbox and preach about how to be a good person or mother, so let me try to explain.

The first time I saw this, it took my breath away for a second. I read it again. I stared at it for a while. I didn't break down and cry or spend the whole day focusing on how horrible it made me feel. I did think about it though. A lot. I wondered if I was being crazy or hypersensitive because it did bother me. Obviously, I understand that this cartoon is meant to be harmless. It's not literally saying that if you have a dead child, then you are a bad mom. I get that. But it is a little insensitive to those of us moms who can't say that all our children are alive. Still, I wasn't about to comment on the photo or make a big fuss about it. I just tried to forget about it. It came up in a conversation with Lori, though, and she felt the same way as I did. Then, a few more friends posted it. And it still bothered me. Now, I do not believe that any of my friends who posted this picture meant any harm by it. I don't think that they ever in a million years thought that it would offend anyone. I don't think they saw anything potentially hurtful about it. They wouldn't have posted it if they thought it would seem insensitive. I know that about these people, so if you are one them, please believe me when I say that I don't think you're a jerk, I don't hate you, I won't defriend you, and I don't want you to feel attacked. If I thought you were a jerk, I wouldn't be friends with you.

When I started seeing this picture more often, I felt like maybe I could do something good by writing about it here. I know that my blog has helped many of my friends and family members figure out how they can be supportive and helpful throughout my grieving process. It has also helped people figure out what not to say or do. With that in mind, I hope that you will see this post not as a rant or complaint-fest by me, but rather as a post that might educate you or open your eyes to something you didn't consider before. I would venture to say that we all know someone who has lost a child. Consider this: one in four women has lost a child to miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death. If you are reading this or if you're my friend on Facebook, then you at least know me. Besides me, you probably know at least one friend or family member who has suffered a miscarriage. Beyond that, you probably know several people, both old and young, who have outlived their own children. When I think back to Max's funeral and the first few days after his death, I can remember the shock that I felt at discovering just how many of my friends and family members had lost children. I had never heard of these children. I never even knew that most of them existed. Hearing the stories of these children made me sad, but it also made me realize that I'm not alone. There are a lot more of me in the world (and in my social circle) than I ever knew. When you have friends and family members who have lost children, it changes your relationships with them, like it or not. You have to watch what you say a little more carefully, you have to be a little bit more forgiving, a little more flexible, and a little less selfish. I know that my friends and family members have had a heavy burden placed on them since Max died. I need them more, and they have been wonderful about giving me more of themselves than I ever asked before. They didn't ask for this extra responsibility, but they have taken it on without complaining (to me at least!). What I'm trying to get at is that everyone in the world knows someone who has lost a child, so it is up to all of us to be sensitive of that. I know that it's impossible to please everyone, but it is possible, even easy, to resist offending a few of us. I understand that it takes a little extra time to consider whether something you are about to post could be offensive or insensitive to others, but I promise you that it's worth every second it takes. I, like every mom who has lost a child, encounter hundreds of difficult moments daily--moments that test me, moments that remind me of Max, moments that remind me of what I will always be missing, moments that remind me that inconsolable pain will just be my reality sometimes. Yesterday, I opened the envelope that I knew contained Max's birth certificate only to find it stamped boldly with "INFANT DEATH." Seeing this, although obviously true, took my breath away just like seeing that post on Facebook did. So, next time you're wondering whether you should post something for all the world to see, take a second to consider whether posting it will make me or another friend unnecessarily encounter yet another difficult moment that reminds us of what we have lost.