There is pain in doing it.
There is pain in their understanding it, seeing it sink into them. Seeing them understand this is who they are, or at least who the world decides they are.
There is pain in having to explain it to others because it didn't occur to them. There is pain in remembering that it didn't occur to you, either, not until you birthed that child and your husband explained what you'd have to do.
And there is pain, and rage, when explaining it, and describing your pain, and your fear, and your actual lived experience . . . they still tell you that you're full of shit. They don't believe you.
If you want them to believe you, you're going to have to prove it to them.
Exactly how far must I go to prove it to you? Do you need to see a bullet in my son for it to become real for you?