1. I wish you would not be afraid to mention Bobby. The truth is just because you never saw him in person does not mean he doesn't deserve your recognition.
2. I wish that if we did talk about Bobby and I cried, you didn't think it was because you have hurt me by mentioning him. The truth is I need to (and often want to) cry and talk about Bobby with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.
3. I wish that you would talk about Bobby more than once. The truth is if you do, it reassures me that you haven't forgotten him and that you do care and understand.
4. I wish you wouldn't think that I don't want to talk about Bobby. The truth is I love him and need to talk about him.
5. I wish you could tell me you are sorry Bobby has died and that you are thinking of me. The truth is that it tells me you care.
6. I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of Bobby; the love I feel for him, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for him are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.
7. I wish you wouldn't pretend that Bobby never existed. The truth is we both know I had him growing inside me for 6 months.
8. I wish you wouldn't judge me because I am not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently.
9. I wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day that I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act anymore and I will never ever be "over it" or him.
10. I wish you wouldn't stay away from me. The truth is loosing Bobby doesn't mean I'm contagious. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and at fault for something I had no control over.
11. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be "over and done with" in a few weeks, months, years or ever for that matter. The truth is I may get used to it with time but I will never be "over" this.
12. I wish you would think of Bobby as a baby and not just a pregnancy loss. The truth is he was a human life. He had a soul, a heart, a body, two legs, two arms, a beautiful face, black eyebrows and ten tiny finger and toe nails. I have seen my baby's body and face, I have smelt his skin, I have felt his weight in my arms. My baby was a real person.
13. Bobby's due date, his birthday, Christmas and Mothers Day, are all important and sad days for me. The truth is I wish you could tell me by words or by letter that you are thinking of me (and Bobby) on these days.
14. I wish you understood that losing Bobby has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before nor will I ever be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to "normal" you will stay frustrated and you will have a very long wait. I am a new person with new thoughts, dreams, beliefs, and values. Please try to get to know the new "me". Maybe you'll still like me.
15. I wish you wouldn't tell me that I can have other babies. The truth is I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace my Bobby. Babies aren't interchangeable.
16. I wish you wouldn't feel awkward or uncomfortable talking about Bobby or being near me. When you do, I can see it. The truth is it's not fair to make me feel uncomfortable just because you are, I'm dealing with enough as it is.
17. I wish you wouldn't think that you should keep away because all my friends and family will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am more often than not left with no one.
18. I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women and new babies is uncomfortable for me. The truth is I feel jealous, angry and sad and I hate myself even more for having these feelings.
19. I wish you wouldn't say that everything happens for a reason. The truth is as far as I'm concerned no explanation would or could ever be good enough to justify the fact that Bobby is gone.
20. I wish you would understand what you are really saying when you say "the next baby will be fine". The truth is how do you know? Can you guarantee that my next baby will be healthy? How can you guarantee that I will have another baby when we suffer from fertility issues? What will you say if it happens to me again?
Above all else, please remember that this is the worst thing that has and will ever happen to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy but my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.
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