I need to tell you something before we start.
I recorded this conversation with Michelle Valiukenas over two years ago. And then I sat on it.
Not because it wasn’t good. Not because it wasn’t important. But because shortly after we recorded (just a few weeks later) some friends of mine unexpectedly lost their son, Cameron, in the NICU after just a few days of life.
And suddenly, I couldn’t figure out how to release this episode without talking about how I was navigating a similar situation in real time. How I was supporting my friends through their absolute lowest days. How everything Michelle and I discussed: the secondary losses, the friends who disappear, the ones who show up, the things people get wrong… was all unfolding right in front of me with people I care deeply about.
If there’s anything you should know about me by now, it’s this: I love this work. But I will never do it at the expense of my friends or their relationships.
So this episode sat in my drive for two years.
A few months ago, I finally told my friend about it. That I had this conversation sitting here, but I didn’t know what to do with it because I didn’t know how to do the narrations without talking about Cam.
She looked at me and said, “Release it.”
She told me she’d sought out stories of people who lost a child and had a very hard time finding them. She’d dug through podcast archives. And finding episodes about how to show up for friends after such a life-shattering loss? Nearly impossible.
So here it is. I’m relieved to finally be releasing this episode. It’s near and dear to my heart.
Today, I’m talking with Michelle Valiukenas. Michelle is the proud mom of her angel Sweet Pea, who she lost due to miscarriage; her angel daughter Colette Louise, who she lost at nine days old; and her only living child, her rainbow baby, Elliott Miguel.
Inspired by her journey with Colette, Michelle and her husband founded The Colette Louise Tisdahl Foundation, whose mission is to improve outcomes in pregnancy, childbirth, prematurity, and infancy, and to aid the grieving process through financial assistance, education, and advocacy.
This conversation is about grief, yes. But it’s also about friendship. About the secondary losses that happen when you lose a child. About the friends who ghost you. The ones who try to fix it. The ones who will just sit with you in the ick of it all.
If you’re supporting someone through grief (or if you’re in it yourself) I hope this conversation gives you permission. Permission to show up imperfectly. Permission to have the hard conversations. Permission to let the peaks and valleys exist at the same time.
The Secondary Losses No One Talks About
When Michelle lost her daughter, Colette, after nine days in the NICU, people understood the loss. They got that her child died. They showed up for the memorial. They sent cards.
But what most people don’t talk about are the SECONDARY losses that stem from that.
“I lost friends who just couldn’t deal with it,” Michelle told me. “Didn’t know how to approach it. People who wanted to fix it, and when I told them they couldn’t fix it, they just sort of ghosted me.”
She had one close friend who kept suggesting things. Let’s take a class. Let’s take a road trip. Let’s do this, let’s do that. At a time when it was hard to just get out of bed.
When Michelle finally said, “That’s not really helpful. You need to accept that you’re not going to fix this,” the friend was shocked. And then? Michelle didn’t hear from her for quite a while.
“We don’t really talk anymore,” Michelle said. “And that was a good friend. That’s painful to go through and to lose.“
And you’re already in pain. So now we’re adding layers and layers.
The Friends Who Disappeared (And the Ones Who Showed Up)
Michelle said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“It’s easy to show up for the funeral, the memorial. It’s easy to show up for that moment because it’s a standard time. We kind of know the motions. It’s much harder to show up a year later. Two years later.”
People showed up for the memorial. And then didn’t acknowledge Colette’s birthday. Or Father’s Day for her husband. Or Mother’s Day the following year.
“In a lot of ways,” Michelle said, “I will say to people: if you didn’t do the work, reach out NOW. Because fewer people are reaching out anyway. And they might really appreciate the apology and the vulnerability. But also that somebody at that moment is going to start really caring and showing up.”
One of the best experiences Michelle had? A friend who didn’t reach out right away. Six months after Colette died, he sent Michelle and her husband a message: “I screwed up as a friend. I didn’t know what to say at first, so I waited. And then I waited. And then I felt like it had been too long. And then I didn’t know what to do. And finally, the other day, I just decided I was going to reach out and tell you this. I’m going to apologize for not being there. And now I’m going to be here.”
“That moment really went from ‘Yeah, he was a friend’ to ‘Now he’s a very close friend,'” Michelle said. “I commend him. I would not have thought he would have been the guy that would have showed up and stood up and said, ‘I screwed up.'”
Here’s what I want you to take away from this: If you didn’t show up right away, it’s not too late. Reach out now. Apologize. Be vulnerable. And then KEEP showing up.
Listen to the full episode to hear more about the specific ways friends showed up (and didn’t show up) for Michelle.
What Actually Helps (And What Doesn’t)
Michelle said something I think we’ve all said at some point: “Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”
And then she said this:
“When you’re overwhelmed by grief, that is too hard of a concept to think about. I have to identify what I need, and then I have to think if you would be helpful to do this, and then I have to contact you. It’s too much. And so I don’t do it.”
Instead, Michelle suggests being SPECIFIC:
- ▪️ “I would like to bring you a meal. Is tomorrow a good day?”
- ▪️ “I’m going to Target. Can I pick you anything up?”
- ▪️ “I really like doing laundry. Do you want me to do your laundry?”
One of Michelle’s friends would call her and say, “I’m going to call you on such-and-such day. Is that okay for you?” And then she’d actually call. It gave Michelle a marker. Something to look forward to. A specific point of connection.
Another friend, a family friend who had also lost a child years before, would send Michelle text messages. Sometimes just a heart emoji. Sometimes “You’re on my mind today.” And always: “I do not need a response.”
“Those were great,” Michelle said. “Just touch points. Because then it didn’t feel so alone. And I think especially with baby loss, baby loss feels very isolating. So it was just nice to have those inputs where people were just thinking of me. Something so simple. They were just thinking of me. And that was enough.“
Say Their Name
Here’s what I learned from Michelle and from supporting my own friends who lost their son Cameron: SAY THEIR NAME.
After Cam died, my friends and I made a pact. We got very used to talking about him. Using his name. Even when his parents weren’t around, when we would list off all of our friends’ kids, we ALWAYS included Cam’s name on the list. And we still do to this day.
One of the first messages I sent my friend after they opened up communication again included this line: “I want you to know that all your people, all of us friends, we are talking about Cam, even when you’re not here. And we will keep talking about him.”
Michelle told me about a colleague who saw her after Colette died and said, “People tell me I’m not supposed to talk about Colette with you. But I don’t personally find it comfortable to just ignore it. What would you like?”
Michelle said, “I’d love to talk about my daughter. Don’t you love talking about your kids?”
The woman said, “Absolutely.”
Michelle said, “Okay, well, I still do. That didn’t go away.“
So they talked about their kids. And Michelle was so grateful that this woman acknowledged the message she was getting (“don’t even acknowledge this”) and then asked what Michelle actually wanted.
“I was able to talk about her,” Michelle said. “And able to sort of be like, ‘Okay, well, let’s talk about other things too.’ And I think those are the kinds of things where it’s just really showing up and asking, ‘What do you need? What feels good to you?'”
Put the Milestones in Your Calendar
Here’s something practical you can do RIGHT NOW: Put the milestones in your calendar.
Birthdays. Anniversaries of passing. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day.
I have Cam’s birthday in my calendar. It repeats every year. I have other friends who have lost parents. I have those days in the calendar. Because you will want to remember so you can reach out.
And yes, you might not be sending a Mother’s Day card. But please send SOME sort of acknowledgment about how terrible that day is.
Here’s the message I sent my friend on her first Mother’s Day after losing Cam:
“From one gal who understands that Mother’s Day effing sucks to another: It’s wild that a Hallmark holiday can make some of us feel so alone, so on the outside, and so without the people we want to be beside us. Cam is so lucky to have you as a mom, even if he isn’t in your arms. It’s just not fair. There’s no other way to say it. It’s just not fair. I hope you are doing whatever you need to do today. There’s absolutely no right way to get through today. You aren’t alone though. Sending hugs.”
Give People the Option (Don’t Decide For Them)
Michelle told me about a friend (actually her sister’s best friend) who was pregnant and having a baby shower about seven or eight months after Colette died.
The friend reached out to Michelle’s sister and said, “I’m inviting your mom to the baby shower. I want to invite Michelle, but I don’t want to hurt her.”
Michelle’s sister said, “I think she would be really hurt if you didn’t invite her. I don’t think she’ll go. But I think she will appreciate that she was invited. Give her the option.“
And that’s what happened. Michelle got the invite. It was painful. But she was still ACKNOWLEDGED. The decision wasn’t made for her.
“It was still like, ‘You are part of my life, and I would love to have you there, and I also get you not coming,'” Michelle said. “And that was really beautiful for me.”
She sent a gift online. And later, she was able to tell her friend, “Thank you for allowing me the option.”
Because on the other side? A lot of people just kept things from Michelle. Didn’t invite her. Made the decision FOR her. And that felt like a different kind of ghosting.
“I was more hurt when I found out about invites that were just kept from me,” Michelle said. “Because that felt like, ‘Well, thanks.'”
Here’s the takeaway: Give people the option. Invite them. Let them decide. Don’t make the decision for them.
And if they DO show up? It’s okay if they pull into the parking lot and then leave. It’s okay if they walk inside and then leave. It’s okay if they stay for part of it and then decide they need to go. It’s okay if they stay the whole time and go sit outside for 30 minutes by themselves.
The “and” is allowed to happen. It can be a happy occasion, and someone can be having a hard time and need to step away. Allowing it all to exist together is the beauty and the vulnerability.
You Don’t Have to Risk Your Mental Health to Show Up
Michelle has a group of three close friends who are also loss moms. They’re all very close. And they all now have at least two living children.
One day, they were all on a Zoom call, and the other moms were talking about the transition from one kid to two, two to three. And Michelle was really emotional.
Finally, she said, “You know, I want you guys to have these conversations because I know it’s really important for the lives you’re living right now. But I am going to excuse myself. Because this is really hard for me to be in and to hear.”
Everyone was kind. They offered to stop the conversation. But Michelle said, “You know what? This hurts a little bit. And I would prefer to just end it and have my time and my energy and my emotions and cry and scream and rant and rave. I would prefer to have my time. So I don’t want to do this.”
And she left. And her friends reached out in a loving way. And Michelle told them, “You didn’t hurt me. You were talking about the things that matter to you and that affect your life. And I want you to have those conversations.“
Here’s what I want you to notice: Michelle was being kind to herself by leaving. And she was being kind to her friends by telling them to keep having those conversations.
Everybody was being kind to each other. And from the outside, this might look like some big dramatic scene. But really, at the core of it, this was a beautiful, vulnerable, kind friendship moment of just allowing all these things to exist at one time.
You don’t have to risk your mental health to show up for your friends. And you shouldn’t.
Listen to the full episode for more on how to navigate these moments with honesty and grace.
Grief Doesn’t Have a Timeline (And Neither Does Friendship)
Here’s what I hope you walk away with:
You don’t have to get it perfect. You just have to show up.
Say their name. Sit in the discomfort. Remember the milestones. Keep showing up even when everyone else has moved on.
Grief doesn’t have a timeline. And neither does friendship.
If you didn’t show up right away, it’s not too late. Reach out now. Be vulnerable. Apologize. And then keep showing up.
Be specific in your offers. Don’t ask what they need. Tell them what you can do and ask if that works.
Give people the option. Don’t decide for them. Invite them. Let them choose.
And please, PLEASE say their name. Talk about the person who died. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t avoid it because you’re uncomfortable.
The friends who mattered to Michelle weren’t the ones who said the perfect thing. They were the ones who said Colette’s name, sat in the uncomfortable silence, and kept showing up months and years later when everyone else had moved on.
That’s what friendship looks like in grief.
