The death of a sibling is not something I thought I’d have to explain to my children—ever, really. Wouldn’t they be grown adults when they faced such an event?

That was before the parvovirus B19 I’d contracted weeks earlier crossed the placenta. Our unborn daughter Madeline developed severe anemia. We tried fetal blood transfusions, but the treatment was unsuccessful. When we found out that her heart had stopped, I felt as though mine had, too.

Somehow, mine hadn’t—nor had the hearts of Madeline’s father or siblings. It can be difficult for young children to understand pregnancy and accept the life of a baby they can’t yet see, so I expected it would be hard for them to understand Maddie’s death. A well-meaning friend suggested that we could “just not tell them,” but that seemed impossible. The children knew of Maddie. They had seen her ultrasound pictures. They knew she was supposed to be born at Thanksgiving time. They knew she was sick and that the doctors were trying to help. They had joined us in praying for her health. We couldn’t just stop talking about her.

Well, we probably could have not told our youngest. Sam, not quite two, clearly doesn’t get it. He has seen the sadness and mourning, but he hasn’t felt it personally. He continues to live his own toddler life—in all of its sensational, wide-eyed, joyful wonder. (It is a relief to me that he doesn’t yet know about this heart-breaking aspect of life.)

Our other children, four-year-old Katie and six-year-old Ben, have certainly “gotten it.” They’ve understood Maddie’s death far better than I ever could have hoped—and, in some ways, in spite of our efforts.

We bungled it
In truth, we didn’t do a great job of breaking the sad news to them. When my husband Michael and I returned from the hospital, I went to bed. He asked me, “What do we tell the children?” and, in my mind, I had a very clear response: “Maddie was sick. The doctors tried to help. But she died.” However, I could barely speak just then, and I failed to share my thoughts.

Michael took the initiative in telling the children about Maddie while I was resting. I’m not sure all that he said, but they soon came to me with an abundance of questions about the circumstances of her death, the cause of her death, where she was then, what happened after death, and more. Of course, they may have had many of these questions, anyway. Still, I do feel that a simple explanation probably would have been better for such young children.

Grieving is dynamic
Fortunately, we parents usually get more than one chance to address the difficult topics we face. My initial dismay at what seemed to be TMI (too much information) gave way to a hope that we could reframe their understanding of our family’s loss.

But what could we do to memorialize a child whose life was so short? Every family’s grieving process is different; in truth, every family member’s experience of grief is individual. But as a family, what could we do?

• We brought her home. The hospital offered a standard cremation and burial, but the location of their burial site is not public. Instead, we opted for a private cremation and found a funeral home to help us with that. A week after Maddie’s life ended, we brought her ashes home.

• We made a place for her. We decided to plant a tree in Maddie’s memory. Being tree-novices, we asked friends for suggestions and selected a pink dogwood. Although we had considered scattering her ashes elsewhere, it made sense to scatter them in the tree’s soil. The children helped us plant the tree and surprised us by voicing their own feelings at the time.

• We had a memorial/blessing. Faith can seem especially important at times of crisis. A couple of weeks after Madeline’s tree was planted, we had our minister and our parents to the house for a simple, brief memorial to our daughter and blessing of her tree.

• We let loved ones know of our grief. Our friends and family had been hoping and praying for Maddie from the time we found out about the parvovirus through the weeks of medical care. They have continued to be a source of strength for us in the time since Maddie’s death, and their generosity of spirit has been an important lesson for the children.

• We found a cause. It feels as though there is very little we can do for the daughter we lost too soon. It brings me a sense of peace to set a goal for donating and/or volunteering for children’s causes in the years ahead.

What does it mean?
I don’t pretend to have all of the answers. We lost our daughter only a few weeks ago, and we are still grieving. The truth is, we will probably be grieving for a very long time to come.

I don’t think that our parenting through this experience has been flawless. It certainly has not been. There are times when I can only focus on the basics, like making sure the children’s’ needs are met.

But I did have a sign just the other day that perhaps we did an okay job. It was a beautiful evening, and the sunset was breathtaking. It was the kind of dramatic, colorful sky that I have sometimes said was God’s work. I called the children’s attention to it. “Maybe,” Ben said, “Maddie painted it for us.” Katie agreed. I think we all like to think that she did.

Helping a child cope with the loss of a loved one can be difficult. Below is a list of some resources that may provide a good starting point. Such events often catch us by surprise and require a quick response (e.g., a sudden trip “back home,” attendance at a funeral or memorial, etc.). Since we may not be able to do a lot of on-the-spot research when our children first hear about such news, I think it’s likely that parents could benefit from skimming through these documents for general concepts now.

But let’s hope we don’t need to use this information too soon.

Web sites

• Helping Your Child Deal with Death (KidsHealth.org) – The main point here is to “Explain death in a child’s terms” and “honest with your child and encourage questions. Create an atmosphere of comfort and openness, and send the message that there’s no one right or wrong way to feel.”

• How to Talk to Your Preschooler About Death (babycenter.com) – This article explains what children of this age are developmentally able to understand, what they are not able to grasp yet, and behavior changes that might normally occur after such news.

• How to Talk to Your Kindergartner About Death (babycenter.com) – This article also provides an age-appropriate perspective, for a slightly older child.

• How to Talk to Your Grade-Schooler About Death (babycenter.com) – Another age-appropriate look at explaining death and likely reactions.

• Young Children and Grief (kidsaid.com) – This document recognizes that grief is a process and notes that children’s understanding of death will vary according to their developmental stage.

Books

• Turner, Mary and Bob Thomas. Talking with Children and Young People About Death and Dying. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2006. – This resource is not a script of what to say, but a guide to help parents consider their options and decide what to say.

• Grollman, Earl A. Talking About Death. Beacon Press, 1990. – A practical guide for parents and caregivers, this book is best read by adults before they share it with children.

• Mellonie, Bryan and Robert Ingpen. Lifetimes. Bantum Books, 1983. – This book provides a life cycle of life and death.

• Mills, Joyce C. and Cary Pillo. Gentle Willow: A Story for Children About Dying. Magination Press, 2003. – A nice change from overtly religious or completely secular picture books about this topic, Gentle Willow refers to death as a change rather than an end.

• Silverman, Janis. Help Me Say Goodbye: Activities for Helping Kids Cope When a Special Person Dies. Fairview Press, 1999. – A hands-on activity book of exercises to help children express their feelings about a particular loss.

It goes without saying that there is no single “right” way to help your child deal with this issue. But in this, as in so many areas of parenting, it helps to be prepared.