I find it utterly repulsive when a man—someone who has never walked in my shoes—tries to mansplain my grief to me. “Just focus on the time and memories you had before they passed,” they say, as if that’s the magical solution to make the pain disappear.
That might be comforting if I had a lifetime of memories with my baby. But I don’t. I don’t have those moments to hold onto. There are no giggles, no first steps, no memories to ease the ache. Just silence where her laughter should have been.
Grief over the loss of a baby is different in many ways. It’s not just mourning the person, it’s mourning the life you never got to know. The future you imagined. The dreams you had. Telling a mother to focus on the memories when there are none is a cruel reminder of all that was lost before it even began.
Why This Hurts Us More Than Helps Us
When someone tries to “fix” grief—especially from a perspective they cannot fully understand—it feels invalidating. It sends a message that the pain should be something we can simply reframe or solve, as if we’re not already doing everything we can to survive it.
For mothers who have lost babies, we don’t need advice on how to ‘move on’ or focus on ‘the good.’ We need acknowledgment. Acknowledgment of the deep and lasting impact of this loss, and that grief is not something to ‘get over’ but something to learn to carry.
If you’ve ever had someone offer you advice that didn’t sit well—especially if you’ve lost a baby—you’re not alone. Grief doesn’t follow a formula, and it’s okay to reject the well-meaning but misguided words of others.
This blog is for the women who are tired of being told how to grieve. For the mothers who feel isolated in their loss because society doesn’t know how to talk about it. Together, we can rewrite the narrative around grief and create spaces where our pain is validated, not fixed.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to join our online sisterhood. In this safe space, we honor each other’s grief, share our stories, and support one another in the messy, complicated, and lifelong journey of loss.
Aloha, Mamaste.