How to live through the pain of losing a child?
How to ease what parents feel in grief? When a child dies, even breathing can feel hard. This support is here for parents who are grieving and trying to get through the hardest days after their child’s death.
This text is not about “doing things the right way.”
It is about what actually happens to parents —
and why it matters so much not to go through this alone.
Right after a child’s death
After parents learn that their child has died, a lot of “help” usually appears around them - people come with advice and, very often, with pills.
Someone brings drops.
Someone offers tablets.
Someone says:
“This really helped me - take it, you’ll feel better.”
Sometimes in a single day a person is given:
• something “so you won’t cry”
• something “so you can sleep”
• something “so you won’t feel anxious”
And very often no one asks:
• what you’ve already taken
• whether you have allergies
• what chronic conditions you have
• how these drugs interact
In acute grief, this can be dangerous.
Not because people mean harm -
but because they are not doctors.
What happens to your body and mind?
The death of a child is not just a loss.
It is the collapse of the world as you knew it.
It doesn’t matter how old your child was.
Even if they were grown.
Even if they had their own family.
For a parent, a child is always a child.
After such a loss, the body enters a state of extreme stress.
Sleep, breathing, blood pressure, the heart and the nervous system are affected.
Some people can’t cry.
Some cry constantly.
Some feel anger.
Some feel empty.
Some feel as if they have shut down.
All of these reactions are normal.
What happened is not.
You are not breaking.
You are living through something unbearable.
The first evening after the funeral
Very often, the hardest part is not the ceremony itself -
but what comes after.
When people leave.
When the silence becomes louder than words.
Many parents say:
“During the funeral I was on autopilot.
And in the evening everything collapsed.”
At that moment:
• you no longer have to hold yourself together
• you no longer have to respond
• you no longer have to make decisions
And that is when the pain can hit the hardest.
Why it can feel worse after the funeral?
This may sound frightening, but it matters to say it honestly.
The first weeks after the funeral are often harder than the day of goodbye.
Because:
• the world starts moving again
• phone calls become fewer
• help fades away
• and inside, everything is only beginning
Many people feel:
“Everyone went back to their lives - and mine ended.”
This is not weakness.
It is what loss does when it turns everything upside down.
You are allowed to accept help
Grief often makes people close in on themselves.
You may think:
“I should handle this on my own.”
But the death of a child is not something a person is meant to endure alone.
You have the right to:
• ask for help
• accept help
• say “I’m not okay”
• say “I need someone to be with me”
Even if you have always been strong.
Even if you are used to coping alone.
When medical help is needed?
Sometimes the pain becomes so intense that:
• you cannot sleep
• you cannot eat
• you cannot think
• panic attacks begin
• your body feels like it cannot cope
In these states, you need not just emotional support, but medical help.
In the UK and most European countries, this kind of care is usually provided through your GP, mental health services, or a psychiatrist.
This is not about being “crazy.”
And it is not about being labelled.
It is about an acute reaction to trauma.
You can say:
“My child died. I feel terrible. I can’t sleep.”
That alone is enough to deserve care.
You do not have to be “normal”
After a child’s death, there is no “right way.”
You may:
• stay at home
• not answer messages
• feel angry
• cry
• stay silent
You do not have to:
• hold yourself together for others
• be strong
• “get back to normal”
Your task right now is not to cope beautifully.
It is simply to get through this day.
If you are reading this, there is a tiny movement toward life inside you —
even if it feels like life is gone.
Sometimes words like these can bring a little quiet.
Sometimes they stir everything up.
Both are normal.
If you feel that right now you don’t need explanations,
but something you can gently hold onto -
we have gathered simple supports that help many parents through the hardest days after loss.
These are not instructions or advice.
They are ways to try to ease what you’re carrying,
when there is too much inside - and at the same time, a deep emptiness.
You can go to them if it feels right.
And you can choose not to - that, too, is okay.
It is about what actually happens to parents —
and why it matters so much not to go through this alone.
Right after a child’s death
After parents learn that their child has died, a lot of “help” usually appears around them - people come with advice and, very often, with pills.
Someone brings drops.
Someone offers tablets.
Someone says:
“This really helped me - take it, you’ll feel better.”
Sometimes in a single day a person is given:
• something “so you won’t cry”
• something “so you can sleep”
• something “so you won’t feel anxious”
And very often no one asks:
• what you’ve already taken
• whether you have allergies
• what chronic conditions you have
• how these drugs interact
In acute grief, this can be dangerous.
Not because people mean harm -
but because they are not doctors.
What happens to your body and mind?
The death of a child is not just a loss.
It is the collapse of the world as you knew it.
It doesn’t matter how old your child was.
Even if they were grown.
Even if they had their own family.
For a parent, a child is always a child.
After such a loss, the body enters a state of extreme stress.
Sleep, breathing, blood pressure, the heart and the nervous system are affected.
Some people can’t cry.
Some cry constantly.
Some feel anger.
Some feel empty.
Some feel as if they have shut down.
All of these reactions are normal.
What happened is not.
You are not breaking.
You are living through something unbearable.
The first evening after the funeral
Very often, the hardest part is not the ceremony itself -
but what comes after.
When people leave.
When the silence becomes louder than words.
Many parents say:
“During the funeral I was on autopilot.
And in the evening everything collapsed.”
At that moment:
• you no longer have to hold yourself together
• you no longer have to respond
• you no longer have to make decisions
And that is when the pain can hit the hardest.
Why it can feel worse after the funeral?
This may sound frightening, but it matters to say it honestly.
The first weeks after the funeral are often harder than the day of goodbye.
Because:
• the world starts moving again
• phone calls become fewer
• help fades away
• and inside, everything is only beginning
Many people feel:
“Everyone went back to their lives - and mine ended.”
This is not weakness.
It is what loss does when it turns everything upside down.
You are allowed to accept help
Grief often makes people close in on themselves.
You may think:
“I should handle this on my own.”
But the death of a child is not something a person is meant to endure alone.
You have the right to:
• ask for help
• accept help
• say “I’m not okay”
• say “I need someone to be with me”
Even if you have always been strong.
Even if you are used to coping alone.
When medical help is needed?
Sometimes the pain becomes so intense that:
• you cannot sleep
• you cannot eat
• you cannot think
• panic attacks begin
• your body feels like it cannot cope
In these states, you need not just emotional support, but medical help.
In the UK and most European countries, this kind of care is usually provided through your GP, mental health services, or a psychiatrist.
This is not about being “crazy.”
And it is not about being labelled.
It is about an acute reaction to trauma.
You can say:
“My child died. I feel terrible. I can’t sleep.”
That alone is enough to deserve care.
You do not have to be “normal”
After a child’s death, there is no “right way.”
You may:
• stay at home
• not answer messages
• feel angry
• cry
• stay silent
You do not have to:
• hold yourself together for others
• be strong
• “get back to normal”
Your task right now is not to cope beautifully.
It is simply to get through this day.
If you are reading this, there is a tiny movement toward life inside you —
even if it feels like life is gone.
Sometimes words like these can bring a little quiet.
Sometimes they stir everything up.
Both are normal.
If you feel that right now you don’t need explanations,
but something you can gently hold onto -
we have gathered simple supports that help many parents through the hardest days after loss.
These are not instructions or advice.
They are ways to try to ease what you’re carrying,
when there is too much inside - and at the same time, a deep emptiness.
You can go to them if it feels right.
And you can choose not to - that, too, is okay.