I Felt Ignored When Screaming For Support

Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of the day I gave birth to Triton, dead.

Yesterday was a shitty, hard day for me and as ‘strong’ as people think I am, I wanted to break.

I felt broken. Hurt. In pain.

Part of my personal healing is channeling that grief to do what I can to help others who feel isolated, silenced and lost.

Yesterday, I shared that it was Triton’s death day and I was having a hard time, a difficult day.

Grieving, hurting, reaching out.

In trying to help others, I shared in the same post, some websites “that give us the space to heal and grieve and talk, while giving us valuable resources and a space to connect and remove that isolation feeling.

Sites that I know to be amazing places that will give you the support when you need it. They will help you feel not so isolated and silenced, ignored.

Then the comments started coming in on the post & on Facebook and I have some pretty mixed feelings about them.

The majority of the comments were from people just leaving links to other sites saying that “i should put” or “what about” or “why not” this place or that place. I understand that those who shared their links are likely just offering that their site exists too — throwing their hat into the ring of a post with a list of similar websites —  BUT,

I felt ignored. My grief was ignored. I was screaming for some kind words, acknowledgement of my grief, my hard and shitty day.

If anyone wants to know why the sites that were included were on that list — they were the only ones who came to me or left a comment and offered their condolences. They acknowledged the shitty day I was having, they said my son’s name to me, they heard my words that were written and reached out. Those that came by and just left a link and asked me “why not this place”, or “this place is good too” — ignored my grief. Offered me no support, no kind words, no acknowledgement.

I can only say what it felt like to me — as someone who is grieving. I can understand others wanting to offer other areas of support, however in saying nothing about the purpose of the post — the reason behind it being the death day of my silent son — offering no kind words, no “i’m sorry” — felt very tasteless to me.  A simple “I am sorry” and a link to another site would have been classier.

I would have felt supported, my grief and son acknowledged, and not have it be about them feeling ignored by not having their site included. 

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Devan McGuinness

is the founder and executive director of the award-winning resource Unspoken Grief .

  1. I’m so sorry for your loss and the pain you are feeling. I’m also so sorry that you experienced that stress yesterday through a rough and hard time for you. I want to send a belated thank you for your poem you shared in the last few days. I just went through my third miscarriage (first d&c) last week and your words were so very helpful in reminding me that I’m not alone and the only woman experiencing this even though it feels like it at times. Thank you also for this incredible website. This is such a comforting resource during a lonely time. Thank you, thank you.

  2. I haven’t caught up with blogs this week, I am so sorry I missed yesterday. You are in my thoughts and I hope you feel the love I have to share.

  3. Sending hugs, I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. I’m sorry you didn’t feel supported on such a tough day. Whenever I post about my losses on fb, it annoys me that no one really responds.

  4. I’m so sorry Devan. I’m sorry for not showing support under the post. I’m also sorry that people bypassed your grief as a chance to promote their site or a site they liked. I thought about you yesterday so much, and I am always here for you. Always. <3

  5. Devan, I did read your post, and I do really feel your pain. Yesterday was the first time I had heard your story with Triton, and it brought me to tears, as does this post. I too had a bad day yesterday, miss my angels I lost nine years ago (ten years in october, on my birthday) I am deeply sorry you felt ignored, and your precious son Triton was not acknowledged. But please know that we (the wonderful volunteers and members of Yasminiah’s Gift of Hope) shared your heart breaking story and we all felt your pain. Sending you lots of love and hugs <3<3<3xxx

  6. I know that there are no words that describes the pain you have felt (and I am sure still do). But I just wanted to tell you I am sorry for your loss. And I am even more sorry that you feel that people were ignoring your pain and feelings yesterday.

    (I’m with The Band)

  7. Oh, Devan. I’m so sorry you felt ignored. I understand that feeling so well. I’m sorry I didn’t comment on the post. I’m terrible at it. 🙁 Sending you love ((hugs))

  8. I’ve been there before. Every time, it makes me stabby. I’m really sorry people were grabby to you when you needed love the most. I hate that. Like I wanted to punch them all.

    “You should include xyz…”

    How about “you should give me some love today? It might MATTER.”

    Love you. Love Triton. Every day. Every single one. Whether or not you EVER showcase my (group) blog EVER AGAIN.

    (Thank you for that, BTW. You didn’t have to)

  9. First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, Devan. I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you. 🙁

    Secondly, I was taken aback how me-centered those comments were. I’m sorry you didn’t get more support when you reached out.

    Sending you much love.

  10. I’m so sorry that you wound up feeling ignored. The problem with the instant-communication of the internet is that a lot of times, since we can communicate at the speed of thought, people just don’t think enough before they post. Baby loss is a terrible thing, and my heart goes out to you.

  11. Devan, although I’m just now hearing about your loss of dear Triton, and we don’t know one another, please know that I am holding you in my heart. I am so sorry for the pain you’ve suffered and the grief you still struggle with.

    It was very caring of you to highlight some sites you found supportive and helpful. How unfortunate that some commenters thought it was an appropriate time and place to critique your choices rather than offering some compassion in return.

    Thinking of you during this difficult time of remembrance.

  12. I’m so sorry for your loss, and I’m sorry that you were isolated and alone when you needed love. It’s really hard when you take the step of reaching out a hand for support only to have it ignored or pushed aside. You’re in my thoughts and my heart, and I’m sending you all of the hugs.

  13. I’m actually relieved to hear that you can openly grieve after four years. I keep thinking that there is an expected end-point to being sad over this loss. I don’t want to stop grieving him, ever. This year, I will remember my stillborn child, Bracken, on May 24 as we celebrate his surviving twin’s first birthday. But May 11, the day we found out that he had died, I live in dread of this day coming soon. I don’t know how I will get through it.

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About Unspoken Grief

Unspoken Grief is a non-profit website dedicated to creating awareness and resources for anyone touched directly or indirectly by miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death.

©Unspoken Grief 2017; Devan McGuinness


Unspoken Grief exists to provide peer-to-peer support and resources. The information on this site is intended only for advocacy and educational purposes. It's not intended to give medical advice, to diagnose or to offer treatment for any medical or psychological conditions. Please consult your own health care provider for your own specific situation and needs.