Category — Barren Advice

This is the 35th installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

For the past three plus years I have wisely insulated myself from the thoughtless comments of people who have never considered how they might feel if they were diagnosed with infertility by (a) being closeted except to other people who I know have dealt with fertility issues or otherwise “get it,” and (b) not bringing those issues up to anyone else. Until I went off half-cocked this morning and wrote a treatise about IVF and sent it to my entire email list because I was sick of hearing the ignorance propagated by the media in response to the octuplets issue (and put over the top by the Georgia bill).

From one acquaintance, someone who I was trying to befriend because our kids are the same age, I received the following response (excerpted, this is the pertinent part): “In my personal opinion (which is not, nor should be, a basis for law or how others live their life) I am not so keen on tampering with nature at all in this regard. I think that biology has a way of sorting out what’s best sometimes. In addition, there are children available for adoption. Some may think it’s easy for me to have this opinion because I have a kid, but I can honestly say that if I couldn’t get pregnant, I would have taken the hint and if I really wanted to experience parenthood I would have adopted. Again, that’s just me. I pass no judgment on others who choose a different course of action.”

Basically, this contains almost every sentiment that pierces the heart of an infertile like a thousand tiny shards of glass. It’s tantamount to saying that if you get cancer, you should just die rather than pursue treatment because it’s nature’s way of weeding out the weak. I know that these comments are based on ignorance, but I am horrified and dismayed to hear them from someone I otherwise like. I am supposed to have brunch with this person on Sunday and I don’t even want to go anymore.

I’m sure this question has been asked before, so forgive the repetition, but: How do I respond to these comments in such a way as to preserve the relationship, raise awareness about infertility, and frankly, convince my acquaintance that she is in error without making her feel like too much of an asshole? It seems like a delicate balance, and I’m typically a bull in a china shop with respect to these things.

—Star

It is really hard to work that many judgmental thoughts into a single response (and then mention at the end that you don’t stand in judgment of others). So I think first and foremost, you need to marvel at that.

Here is the difference between your two sets of words: I’m assuming your letter addressed how people should think about infertility and her response (as well as items such as the Georgia bill) address how people should act within infertility. Actions beget consequences, therefore, no one should be telling another person how to solve their problems as long as their solutions are not harmful to another person or themselves (for instance, I think we could all agree that if a person were trying to solve the stress of infertility by cutting themselves, we’d step in and try to help that person. But if the person was choosing to solve the stress of infertility by meditation, even if we think it is a bunch of crap, we’d say, “to each their own.”). She doesn’t need to live your life, she only needs to live her own.

This question actually hasn’t been asked before–at least not this type of situation where you need to see the speaker face-to-face. It is very different when a hurtful comment is left or you fall into disagreement with a faceless person over the Internet. There is a different investment unless you are also friends off-blog. But this is a person who you must socialize with, who has children that your children will play with, and may even overlap with other people you know in the face-to-face world.

I would still use the same three-tiered guide that I’ve spoke about before: start with a kind response (assuming that the person is speaking with kindness albeit thoughtlessness), move to a firm response (the aim of which is to cut off the topic entirely if they didn’t get it the first time around), and finally, the free-for-all. The free-for-all takes into account that some friendships may just not be possible, even if there are other traits that drew you to her. If you had a shared history already built, it’s easier to step back and agree to disagree. But depending on her response, you may be building your friendship on that agree to disagree ground, and that simply isn’t stable land for a friendship.

I, personally, wouldn’t befriend someone I just met who told me that they liked me but also thought all Jews were going to hell–regardless of how easy it would be to get together because our kids were in the same class. At the same time, I can tell you that I did have a friend in college who believed all Jews were going to hell. She only shared this belief with me once we were deep into our friendship and while this assertion sounds offensive taken out of context, it was explained to me in such a way that was palatable within our relationship. I would love to explain it, but it would take too long to explain here and truly, those who think I’m crazy to be friends with someone who thinks I’m going to hell won’t understand even if I type out her words. How this applies to you: we can’t judge friendships out of context and if she can explain her thoughts in a way that work for you, run with it.

My friend knew that it wasn’t cool to try to convert me and I knew that it wasn’t cool to not respect her belief in Christ. And we were able to move past this difference and keep the friendship because of where the information came in the continuum of our relationship. It wasn’t something she shared UNTIL she knew that we had a close friendship (in other words, she knew how she felt about Jews prior to the friendship deepening) and she wanted me to understand something that was really important to her. And I can respect that–my friends do not need to be a mirror-image of me and her viewpoint really strengthened my own commitment to Judaism. Her words were not about forcing her viewpoint on me; it was about her concern for me as her friend. And that is the major difference and how a friend can drop a bomb-of-a-thought on y
ou and still be standing after the wreckage has cleared. This woman didn’t share her thoughts out of concern for you, but out of a love of hearing her own thoughts.

So says the advice columnist…

But, hey, you asked.

If you want to repair the friendship (and frankly, I could still be friends with someone who holds these views, but that’s just me), I would respond and begin with kind. You could also not respond at all; not every email needs a response and responding is not always the healthiest option. But in this case, I think you’ll carry it with you unless you put it to rest. So kind: It’s great that we live in a world where everyone can make their own decisions and you’re really happy with your decision to pursue fertility treatments.

I’d aim for breezy and confident–you’re still sticking to your guns, but you’re not angry, which allows the other person to save face. Hopefully the topic won’t come up again–I think you made it pretty clear from your response. But sometimes it does; the person still needs to make sure that you know just where they stand on fertility treatments. And then you move to firm, making sure you smile as you either say the words or write them: Tell her that you hear her thoughts but they obviously don’t mesh with your own which you stated in your email so maybe it would be best to not talk about infertility. But you’d love to get the kids together for a playdate.

Finally, the free-for-all. I have to tell you, if she is still bringing up the topic and she doesn’t have a vested interest in the topic (for instance, I can see someone who ended up in the hospital with OHSS wanting to make sure you know all the dangers. But it sounds like she just has an opinion on this topic like every other Dick and Jane…no commentary on the fact that these names are Dick…or Aunt Jane), I think she either can’t pick up on social cues or she truly doesn’t have your best interests at heart. And personally, that’s when I’d cut her loose. You can still see her in the context of other mutual friends, but that’s when I put the stiff arm up and hold her at a distance. Without that shared history, a new friend who requires this much negotiating isn’t worth the friendship.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

This is the 34th installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

I need your barren advice. After two D&Cs, the last of which was last week, I am trying to decide if I even WANT a second baby. My last two pregnancies, before their eventual terminations, were each awful in their own ways. The first, a blighted ovum, never felt right, which, it turned out, was correct. The second was great, and I was so excited and happy until I started to cramp and bleed heavily at six weeks. A huge bleed was discovered, and I was told to take it easy, not lift or exercise, not have sex, and not have orgasms. That was in place for four weeks until I went in for a routine check-up, and found out that there was no heartbeat, and not only was this one dead, I have a clotting disorder that killed this one and probably was behind my severe preecampsia with my son. It sounds like knowing this, it won’t be hard to fix… baby aspirin and maybe a monthly shot. But I don’t know, I am so burnt at this point.

My husband, who would be fine with our son being an only child, thinks we should have another, because he thinks it’s something I really want, and have for a long time, and heck, he’s agreed twice before. And that’s true: I love babies and children, and I don’t want my son to go through life with no siblings or cousins, which looks very likely at this point. My husband also thinks that it would be silly to quit now, when we have figured out the problem. And also, up until the end, my pregnancy with DS was fantastic, so I know it’s possible.

The problem is, I don’t have a lot of time to figure this out. I’m 38, and while I seem to be really good at getting pregnant, I don’t have forever. I also don’t know if I’m willing to make sacrifices to have another baby. I realize they are short-term, but still. And, my confidence is shaken. I was sure that I could have a sunny, uncomplicated pregnancy, then could breeze my way through working full time, having a marriage, having an infant, and raising a kindergartner. Now I don’t know… I could potentially ruin everything. Or, I could forever regret chickening out at this point.

Do you have any advice on how to make this decision?

–Anonymous

This isn’t going to be the answer you want to hear, but this is such a personal decision, the only person who can make it is you. Not your husband, not a friend, and not a therapist or doctor. This doesn’t mean that we can’t help you by walking with you up to the edge, but you are the one who ultimately needs to make the decision to jump or fly. And only you know which decision represents falling and which one represents flying.

And that is where I would start. I placed you at the edge and used these two words: fall or fly. When you thought about yourself falling, which side of the decision (trying or stopping) did you picture? When you considered yourself flying, what were you flying toward?

I think you already know the answer of what you want to do–it is merely the work of finding it buried under all of those emotions.

Sometimes, when I’m looking for something in a drawer and I know that it has to be in there but I’m overlooking it, I take everything out of the drawer and place it on the floor and then put it all back in the drawer neatly, usually finding the missing item along the way. I think the same thing can work with difficult decisions. Take everything out of your head and lay it on the page and then look at it from the outside, seeing how it looks from a different view. And these are the pieces of paper that you will take to your husband to explain your decision because your choice involves him as well.

Begin with looking at continuing to try for a second child. Write that inside a circle you draw in the center of the paper.

Now make lines coming off it and start writing out every what if you’re carrying in your heart about this decision. Follow each what if to its possible end. I included a few I could imagine myself just as an example, but you need to personalize this and make it the what ifs that are suffocating you about this decision.

There will be many more what ifs, all tied to your personal situation, including what happened after the birth of your first child, the feelings of your husband, and your age. Your paper may have five major what ifs, or you may need to pull out the poster board in order to have enough space to get down all of your thoughts.

Once you finish with this choice, you’re going to set aside the page, turn it upside down, and honestly fill out another decision web using the other choice–stopping now–and all of the what ifs that stem from that (good or bad what ifs).

When you’re doing this exercise, you need to be brutally honest with yourself. You can choose whether you want to redraw the webs to show another person, keeping the brutal honesty solely with yourself, but that is my only caveat. You cannot hold back any of the yucky thoughts, the embarrassing thoughts, the regretful thoughts from yourself. Putting them down on paper, admitting them to yourself, is the only way you’ll make this decision without regrets.

Without regrets does not mean joyfully. You may still cry or be angry or frustrated or resigned. But you won’t have regrets, and that is truly the only weight others can help you remove before you decide the way to exit the cliff.

Before I send you off to find a quiet space and work through your decision, I want you to know that all of the points you discussed in the note were all valid reasons to keep trying or stop. None should be swept under the rug. Just because you now know about the clotting disorder doesn’t dismiss the enormous feelings you have about trying after multiple losses. Not putting yourself through that again, even if it
means that you have to change the way you saw your life in the future, should not be undertaken just because. Just because you don’t want to disappoint someone or just because you were already on this path. It is equally valid to say no. To stop. To know your limits and respect them.

I don’t think we need to continue with everything we start, especially when new information is learned that would have kept us off the path in the first place. Quitters do win–especially those who know their own heart and listen to its wisdom. Winning is not only having everything turn out how we wanted in the end–winning is about how we live our life, the choices we make, the happiness we grab, the sanity we preserve. I have a deep respect for people who can say no. Who can take a step back and ask themselves what is lost as they try to gain and weigh out the two sides so that they don’t come out at a deficit just for the sake of doing what is easy vs. doing what is best.

Stopping is neither good nor bad–truly, the only thing that matters about stopping is knowing why you are doing it so you can come to a place of closure. I think a lack of closure comes from not understanding what brought you to a stopping point or having the choice taken away from you and made by someone else or circumstances.

And, at the same time, I have a deep respect for those who continue on, even knowing that they could possibly lose a lot by taking the next step, but doing it anyway because it is the strongest impulse within.

Go find your quiet space. Remove all the thoughts from your head and place them in front of you to examine. Come to a place of peace and know your own heart and then share it with others–your husband, namely, who may surprise you in agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever decision you make when he hears the reasons that brought you to that place.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

This is the 33rd installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

This is the 32nd installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

I started my blog in the midst of dealing w/ infertility and TTC. It was my 2nd blog while on this journey b/c the first one turned out to be a vent-fest and I realized that’s not what I wanted to have out there. I wanted a blog / place where I could be honest and others could read and maybe relate and we’d be a support for one another. Somewhere along the way I found you! And it was set, I had this blog community that understood me and my desire to be a mother. I got very into reading other blogs and being a support for those cycling, pregnant and parenting.

After years of TTC, surgery and ART, I got pregnant. And even though I knew my online buddies and community would be happy for me, I had a hard time dealing w/ the pregnancy and w/ those IF’ers still waiting for their BFP. I didn’t know how to be excited for myself and not hurt someone’s feelings. I think we all know that mix feeling we get when we’re still cycling and someone we know gets pregnant. I didn’t blog or write into my boardgroup as much as before for these reasons. My infertility was and will be a big part of me and and my life. I don’t know how to balance the fact – and my blog – that I overcame ‘primary’ IF and now have my boys and be supportive to the IF community. How do YOU do it? Just b/c I have kiddies now, I don’t want to or can “just forget” about my IF and my friends that are still going through it.

–Susy

I think your sensitivity and the fact that you notice this and want to do something about it is the most important part of it. Without that impulse, I don’t think that balance can ever be obtained. But you have solid ground from which to step forward.

If I could boil it down to a formula, it would make it a lot easier. What you’re essentially asking is how you seamlessly move from blogging about primary infertility to blogging about parenting after infertility. It may seem as though others stepped into the role without effort just as I’m sure it appears as if some parents have stepped into parenting without effort. I know when I was in those first weeks and had wondered what I had gotten myself into and hadn’t showered and felt like crap and was snapping at everyone and crying at the drop of a hat…well, I wondered how others did it so easily. What did they know that I didn’t? I was certainly grateful that the twins were here, but it wasn’t easy. It was really rocky and it took a long time for us to find our groove.

But we did find it.

Even though we still go through stages where I snap at everyone and cry at the drop of a hat.

But I have to guess that most people experience waves whether it is with parenting or blogging. Even those who have moved from primary to parenting seemingly without effort in their writing, keeping their audience mostly intact–I would hazard a guess that they would weigh in here and admit that it wasn’t easy, they sometimes felt like they had nothing to say, and they even went through periods of light posting where they desperately wanted to connect to people and yet couldn’t find a way to sum up their world that was palatable to the people they knew were reading–in other words, their friends.

Because, as you say, you know your audience and you know what you wouldn’t want to hear when you were in the throes of primary infertility. And that, of course, can be your starting point. If you always wished that people had put a heads up at the top of the post saying “children mentioned,” do so. If it helps you to feel like you have a better grasp on circumspection, hold every post for a few hours and then revisit it before posting, trying to see it through the eyes of someone going through primary infertility. Is it sensitive? Thoughtful?

The best solid advice I can give you is to observe the rule of 3/4ths. I just made up this rule, by the way, just in case you’re scratching your head and thinking, “but I’ve never heard of the rule of 3/4ths.” This rule–to be adhered to loosely and without stunting your own writing impulses–is to stick to your main topic 3/4ths of the time. Write the truth about what it is like to parent after infertility. How your experience beforehand has affected your world now. About your children and interesting anecdotes. The other 1/4th of the time is whatever else interests you. By which I mean a recap of your favourite television show, a rant about PR pitches, or musings on your dream house.

This, of course, gives you a frame and it gives you breathing space. It’s sort of like fixed form poetry–it gives you room to think because you know your expectations. And it helps you connect with an audience because they can predict whether you’re writing about something that would be of interest to them. No one expects you to stick to one topic every single post, and it would be a little boring if you narrowed your world so much that you only wrote about one thing. Your main topic is your frame, but you need to be able to fit your other interests onto that frame as well.

That said, I’m going to give you two analogies because I love analogies on the same level as chocolate and orgasms. And because I can’t walk away from a good analogy that pops into my head any more so than I can walk away from…chocolate or orgasms.

Sometimes people are your friends due to circumstance and location. And other times, they transcend the moment in time and enter a separate space–one that travels with you wherever you go. There are people I was friends with in college because we found ourselves in the same dorm or the same class. And I’m embarrassed to admit it, but even though these people were my world while I was there, I have a hard time recalling some of their names when I’m flipping through pictures. They were so important in the moment, but for whatever reason, I didn’t take them with me when I left college. A few did come with me, and those are the ones that transcend that moment. We weren’t just friends because we were in the same place at the same time. We were friends because we got each other on a very deep level. And they didn’t mind my incessant what ifs.

I think what you are seeing with blogs is that some people are still living here, hence why they still have the same friends (readers) and some people have moved, but are sad that they didn’t bring all their friends (readers) with them. There are plenty of parenting after infertility blogs in the Land of If. They’re still writing about infertility and they haven’t really moved. I’m not saying this as a negative thing–my own blog
is certainly still in the Land of If.

People moving is not a negative thing either. You can move and rebuild on mainland and tap into those resources and a new readership. You’ll take some of your friends (readers) from here, the ones that transcended the experience and connected with your words and ideas. It may take a while to find your new groove, but you may want to reinvent as a mommyblogger, food blogger, or book blogger. New interests replace old interests and the soul of the blog changes. It all depends on whether you want to stay in this town or move somewhere new.

That said (and here is the second analogy), living in the Land of If when you’re parenting after infertility is sort of like being a twenty-something in a retirement community. It makes me think of Jennifer Weiner’s book In Her Shoes, where the sister goes to live in the retirement community and everyone loves her. While I loved the book and I could see why the people would connect with this particular character–especially when she was a rockin’ personal shopper–I didn’t find it particularly believable based on my experience with retirement communities.

The ones I’ve seen are happy enough to have me visit, but they certainly don’t want me hanging around the pool all day. And, to be frank, I wouldn’t really want to live in a retirement community day in and day out. Because we’re at different places in life. I can understand why they don’t want to see my perky breasts (if I had perky breasts) in a bikini (if I ever wore a bikini) just as they probably understand why I wouldn’t want to walk very slowly or play Bridge.

Which is not to say that you won’t find people in the retirement community who want young people around. Just as there are people in the infertility community who see burgeoning bellies, young children, or adoption finalizations with hope, there are certainly people we’ve met at the nursing home who are thrilled when we bring the twins and let them run around. They think they’re hysterical and instead of making them depressed, they see them as a brief moment of entertainment.

But there are also plenty of people at the nursing home who don’t want to see the twins at all, who are annoyed that they’re in their space. Who find them grating and intolerable. Not because those people are crotchety or mean–but because we all have differing likes and dislikes. I will never hold that against them just so long as they don’t hold my likes and dislikes against me. Our unique way of viewing the world adds to the whole. But to be fair, it is their space, their home. The blogosphere is a messier affair with some people wanting those parenting after infertility to stick around and some people wishing they would pack up their blog and leave. The way we exercise our opinion is to decide what we do and don’t want to read. It’s a two way street unlike the retirement community who can decide who gets to live there–you get to decide what you want to write and others get to decide what they want to read.

Here’s the thing about the character in that book: she makes herself stand out amongst them. She lounges by the pool in her bikini and prances about. I would hope that if I had lived in a retirement community in my twenties, I would have tried a bit better to blend. Or, at the very least, be mindful that I am the one who wishes to be with the elderly people and therefore, need to play by their rules.

I wouldn’t run through the hallway of a retirement community wearing nothing but a bikini and screaming about how we all need to paaaaaaaaaaaaar-tay! (Yes, I am making a lot of assumptions that elderly people do not like to rave)

And I wouldn’t write long posts giving a play-by-play about nuzzling a warm baby neck if I knew my audience was comprised entirely of those still experiencing infertility.

Meaning, I wouldn’t do either of those things if I wanted to still be welcome in that particular space.

If I had no care about that space or if I was trying to live in bikini-land, but the elderly were still at my elbow, asking me what I’m doing, I would write accordingly too. In other words, I match my behaviour to the space where I wish to be, not where others wish me to be. If you want to still be in the infertility world, it’s a big space and I say there is room here. If you wish to be on the mainland, you should also be free to move there and build a home without anyone making you feel badly or demanding that you come back.

Your blog is your space. You get to decide what you write and how you want to run it. If you want to remain in the Land of If, remember your roots. Use the cues you would have wanted to see when you were still family building. Sit on a post for a few hours and make sure you look at it again with primary eyes. Stick to a topic (parenting after infertility) 3/4ths of the time so readers can predict whether what you’re writing will be of interest to them. Don’t take it personally if some people aren’t in a space to keep reading. And make sure that your blog fits well with you–that it feels comfortable and home-y and not as if you’re stretching to make other people happy at the expense of writing what you want to write.

Or, after reading this, you decide that you want to move, trust that you’ll make new friends in your new city. By which I mean a new area of the blogosphere. By which I couldn’t resist another analogy.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

This is the 31st installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

What do you do when someone leaves a comment on your blog that just makes you want to throttle them, even though you know they are trying to be supportive? I had someone leave a comment telling me that my baby angel was in heaven and that it breaks her heart to see how I am carrying on back here on earth. She said I should release my anger with my doctors, body, infertility, etc and stop carrying around this burden because my baby would never want me to live this way.

I…almost came unglued. I know they were trying to be helpful and leave the general platitudes, but how dare they? My initial thought process was “How dare you presume to know what my baby would and would not want? I believe she in heaven too, but how DARE you come in here and tell me what I should and shouldn’t do?!”

I know – they were trying to comfort me. Instead, I was unreasonably angered. I have not responded, and probably won’t because I don’t want to hurt anyone or put them off of commenting or offering support, but still…what do you do with stuff like this?!

–Anonymous

Here is the problem with giving comfort to someone you don’t intimately know–you never know if your way of giving comfort is actually helpful to them. I know how to comfort Josh; know what he does or does not want to hear. I can’t say the same thing about most people on the Internet with the exception of the people that I’ve connected with off-blog.

Comfort is sticky when it comes from a religious space and religion is sticky because even those who practice the same religion may feel uncomfortable with some religious sentiments. As you state in your question, even if you also believe that your baby is in Heaven, you don’t necessarily sound like your Heaven matches the commenter’s vision of Heaven (where your baby is watching your angry reaction back here on earth).

And yet we’ve set up blogs as a conversation–unless you turn off comments on a post, you are tacitly giving a welcome to other people’s words. Therefore, when you’re happy, they are going to echo your happiness with congratulations and when you are sad, they are going to say what they believe will help you process your grief. Perhaps in her world and within her losses (whether they were pregnancy losses or other forms of loss she has experienced), it is helpful to think that the people lost would be angry with her if they saw her grieving. Perhaps that is what gets her through the grieving process and makes her put one foot in front of the other.

It wouldn’t work for me.

It doesn’t sound like it works for you.

So what is a way to comfort someone that is a little more neutral? If people only have words to give comfort and cannot give you a hug, what should they say? A simple “I’m sorry” works. A “I’m thinking of you” or “hug” is fine too.

I believe the conversation began on I Won’t Fear Love about the term abide, as in “I abide with you” which is a way of saying that you are sitting beside them, waiting for the person to come through their grief. You’re not nudging them along or trying to talk them out of it. You’re simply sitting with them. It’s a term that lacks judgment nor tells the other person what to do. It is a really perfect way to comfort another person that you don’t know.

That said, what do you do with the people who choose instead to bring their own way of comforting to the table? Who choose to bring in their religious views, even if they end up causing more pain than comfort because their views differ so greatly from your own? There are only three possibilities here: ignore (easier said than done), remove (though, as you said, the words were never meant to hurt), or close the comment section on a post where you fear the response. Some will take the extra step when the comment section is closed to reach you via email. And while I can’t promise that you won’t get emails that are unhelpful, you have a greater chance of getting helpful comfort from someone who knows you somewhat well.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.