Category: child loss

You Are Not Alone

Grief is isolating.

Even in our immediate family, differing grief styles, personalities and gender can separate us from one another in our sorrow.

And out in the world, well-THAT separation is as long and tall as the Great Wall of China.

But I’m here to tell you that you are NOT alone.

I felt so very alone after Dominic ran ahead to heaven.  I only knew a couple of bereaved parents and their losses were many, many years prior to mine so they were at a different place.  Although they reached out, I didn’t have the courage or words to access their wisdom.

I live in a very small community and though I expanded my search to the nearby larger cities, there were only two grief groups I could find and neither exclusive to child loss.

In addition, I wanted a group founded on and looking toward the promises of God in Christ.  I was already discouraged, disheartened and on the verge of hopelessness-I couldn’t bear to have that part of my experience reinforced without the counterbalance of hope in Jesus.

I read, read, read.

And those books helped so much.  But they still lacked the give and take I needed.  I longed for a safe space to share my heart and have others share theirs.  I wanted to be able to ask questions and hear how other bereaved parents handled similar feelings, fears and situations.

I needed community.

It was 17 long months before I found it through While We’re Waiting support group for bereaved parents.

What a breath of fresh air!

Even though the closed group is peopled by broken hearts there is understanding and compassion and HOPE.  Those further along in this journey speak courage to the hearts freshly shattered.  Tender, vulnerable moms and dads know that HERE they are SAFE.

Last week I attended and spoke at the Through This Valley conference for bereaved parents held near the While We’re Waiting Refuge.

I got to meet some of the very special people who have helped me on this journey.  It was a preview of Heaven-hearts united in love for one another and love for our Savior.

Lots and lots of tears.  But lots and lots of hugs.  Lots and lots of sorrow over missing our children.  But lots and lots of joyful anticipation that we WILL be reunited.

You are NOT alone, dear heart.

There is a community of parents waiting to embrace you.

None of us would have chosen this painful path yet we choose to walk together on it.

Come, join hands with others who will speak courage to your heart.

while were waiting

Spoon Theory Applied to Bereavement

I thought I would follow up yesterday’s post with another one to help folks recognize when they NEED to rest.

I don’t know about you but I have a hard time figuring that out sometimes.

One approach that has helped me is something called “Spoon Theory”.

Spoon Theory was first described (as far as I know) by Christine Miserandino of butyoudontlooksick.com.

The original article pertains to chronic illness.  But when I stumbled across it a couple years ago it really clicked with me.

The basic idea is that everyone starts with a finite number of “spoons” representing the energy, attention and stamina that can be accessed for any given day. When you do something, you remove a spoon (or two or three) based on the effort required.  When you have used up all your spoons, you are operating at a deficit. 

Like a budget, you can only do that so long before you are in big trouble.

The only change I would make is to say that in the first months and years, most bereaved parents have far fewer than 12 spoons. 

Grief uses at least half of them by itself.

But it’s helpful for me to recognize that I do not have an infinite supply of energy and stamina regardless of what I think has to be done or how many more hours there are in a day.  I’ve written about that in this earlier post:   Emotional Bankruptcy: I Can’t Spend the Same Energy Twice

And I think it’s a great graphic to show to family and friends so they can understand why we simply CAN’T do everything we used to do.

spoon theory

 

The TRULY Beautiful People

I’ve spent the last three days with over a hundred bereaved parents.

And they are all beautiful.  

Beautiful in their bravery and their brokenness. 

It was probably the most diverse and HONEST “church service” I’ve ever been to-and it had nothing to do with the facility.  It had everything to do with hearts.  

These are hearts desperately longing to beat to the rhythm of the heart of God.  Hearts that are too shattered to pretend when there is an altar call.  Hearts that don’t care if sobs escape or tears stream down.

And hearts that receive other hearts with open arms no matter if the body that carries them looks familiar or proper or fashionable or is the same color as their own.

It was hard to be surrounded by so many hearts carrying so much pain. 

But it was also beautiful. 

I wrote this last year and was reminded of it yesterday:

We spend so much time, money and effort trying to make our decaying frame look less like the temporary shelter it’s intended to be and more like an eternal monument to beauty.

But try as we might, we are impotent against the forces that will eventually drag us to the grave.

What if, instead, I worked as diligently to exercise my inner woman as I do my too-generous bottom?

Read the rest here:  Beauty That Lasts

Nope, Not Crazy. It’s Just Grief Brain.

Oh, my goodness!!!

If grief brain is my constant state of mind, adding stress upon stress (like your mama being life-flighted to the hospital!) and it gets even worse.

These last weeks I’ve had to ask for grace repeatedly as I fumbled for words, fumbled for keys and made stupid mistake after stupid mistake.

But I’m not crazy, just can’t access my brain like I used to.

So for those who are feeling the same way, here’s a reposting of a blog that sheds some light on how our brains change because of grief.

I’m looking right at her.

I know her.  In fact, I’ve known her for years.  But please don’t ask me her name.

I have no idea.

Read the rest here:  Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing!

Zero Points for Pretending: You Can’t Hide Your Heart

Oh, sometimes I think I’m clever enough to do it.

I edit my words, costume my body and fix my face so  I can act the part.  But truth is, I never manage to fool anyone who looks closer than my plastic smile.

I can’t hide my heart.

And I don’t know why I try-I don’t get points for pretending.

There’s no prize at the end of this long road for the one who makes it with fewest tears.

No one offers me any token for the months or years or decades I make it without breaking down or cracking up.

exhausted-over-trying-to-be-stronger-than-i-feel

But I damage my own soul by shoving the feelings deep.  I clog my arteries by swallowing every angry word.  Sorrow turns to despair which turns to hopelessness if I never let it out.

And like it or not, it leaks out somewhere.

So I’m learning to speak my truth, to name my feelings and express them in healthy ways: 

  • I journal.
  • I share in safe spaces like bereavement groups and my church small group.
  • I exercise-which helps to burn off “steam” or just that awful sense of discomfort when darker feelings overwhelm my heart.
  • I build rest into my day along with silence so my mind and heart get a break from constant self-restraint and editing needed during conversation.
  • I read helpful articles and books.
  • I write this blog.
  • And when I need to, I talk to someone who is making my journey more difficult and try to work it out.

All of this takes energy and effort when I have the least of either to spare.  But the alternative is too grim to consider.  

I don’t want to walk the rest of my years carrying more heartache than that of child loss-which is heavier than I could ever have imagined. 

I choose to shed the extra pounds of emotional baggage I can leave by the roadside.

I won’t hide my heart.  

feel deal heal

 

Repost: True Truth

I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach.  I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.

The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar.

Read the rest here:  True Truth

HELP WANTED: Why Grievers Need Faithful Friends

We all know how it is-you move, you lose an address or phone number, you lose touch. 

But sometimes friendships end more abruptly-not because lives drifted apart but because one person became so uncomfortable she chose to walk the other way.

That’s what happens so often the other side of child loss.  Friends disappear because loss makes them profoundly uncomfortable.  

I get it-I’m a walking reminder that if it happened to me, it can happen to you.  

You don’t know what to say when the tears flow.  You feel helpless in the face of my helplessness.  You are afraid my questions might weaken your faith.

And after months of avoiding me you feel guilty.  

But may I tell you something?  I still need you.  

It doesn’t matter if you have the perfect words.  Your presence is what lifts my spirits.  

I won’t chastise you for your absence.

fluent in silence

 

 

Through This Valley Conference for Bereaved Parents-Don’t Miss It!!

I admit I’m not much of a gatherer.

Oh, I love my Sunday School class and my church family.  I enjoy the occasional family reunion or wedding.  But, on the whole, I tend to stick to small groups instead of large crowds.

And that tendency has been amplified since Dominic ran ahead to heaven.

So I totally understand why a bereaved parent might be reluctant to come to a CONFERENCE full of STRANGERS.

But please listen to my heart, not just my words:  this is NOT your average gathering.

April Wendland (a bereaved mother herself) and a very special team of people have worked hard to put together a two-day event that will speak courage to broken hearts.

You won’t be surrounded by people who glance sideways when the tears roll.  You won’t feel out of place when the tears turn to sobs.

Because we’ve all been there-we are STILL there.

There is no substitute for hearing (perhaps for the first time), “Me too!  I feel that way too!”

me too sharing the path

If you have never had the blessing of sharing space with other hearts that know exactly how you feel, then please, please, please try to come!  

And it’s FREE!

Courage is going to flow through the building.  Love will overwhelm your heart.  Grace and mercy will spill forth like water from a fountain.

Come be encouraged, strengthened and filled with hope for this journey. ❤ ❤ ❤

Here’s the link:  Through This Valley Bereaved Parents’ Conference

Friday, October 6th-Saturday, October 7th

Legacy Church,  3540 Central Ave., Hot Springs, Arkansas

word of encouragement is the fuel for hope

 

 

Boundaries: I’m Not a Punching Bag

Last week I wrote a post titled They Don’t Know What They Don’t Know and made the case that often folks say insensitive things but truly don’t mean harm.  Many are walking in the dark and step on our toes because they can’t see.

But there are some people who make it a habit to be insensitive.

They are the ones who delight in speaking their mind regardless of how it hurts another heart.  They pride themselves on “telling it like it is” and justify the fallout as a necessary consequence of “opening the eyes” of people they consider “blind to the truth”.

And while I believe that it is my duty as a Christ follower to forgive these folks when they hurt my feelings, I do not believe that I am required to continue to offer my heart to them to be tossed to the ground and trampled.

boundary yellow line

I do not have to welcome them with open arms and invite their untimely and unkind comments.  

I do not have to engage with them on social media-I can unfollow, unfriend or simply ignore their posts.  I can delete inappropriate comments made on my own posts and untag myself when they try to draw my attention to an article or meme that they think “helps” when it only wounds me.

If the person is a family member, I can choose to be polite when we meet at gatherings but I do not have to sit next to them at the table.  I can excuse myself early from birthday parties, Sunday dinners or holiday meals.  I can simply refuse an invitation and stay home instead.

If the person is someone tightly woven into the fabric of my friendships, I can do the same thing-choosing not to be alone with them so I’m not an easy target for their “helpful” monologues.

If the person is a casual acquaintance then I can choose not to engage them at all. It’s OK to scoot around the next aisle in the grocery store so that I’m not caught like a deer in headlights when they see me and exclaim, “How ARE you???”

In other words, it is perfectly acceptable to have boundaries around my heart so I can survive this journey.

It is healthy.

It is necessary.

I’m not required to be someone else’s punching bag.

punching bag

They Don’t Know What They Don’t Know

I remember the first couple times I ventured out in public after Dominic left us and the flurry of activity surrounding his funeral was over.

I felt naked, afraid and oh, so vulnerable.  

The tiniest misplaced word or random glance could undo me and I burst into tears.  

And I remember the phone calls, cards, texts and Facebook messages from friends and family who truly wanted to encourage my heart but often chose the wrong words and pierced it instead.

I took offense.  Often.

But about a month or so into this journey, as I explored the edges of my pain and had time to think about how utterly different and unknowable it was without experiencing it, I realized that all those barbs were completely unintentional.

No one was aiming to hurt me.  They were walking in the dark and stepping on my toes because they couldn’t SEE, not because they desired to cause me pain.

I was just as clueless before it was ME who buried a child.

So I learned to extend grace-to look behind the words to the heart offering them.

Because they don’t know what they don’t know.  

And I hope to God they never do.

dont expect everyone to understand