Ten Years and Ten Things (plus one) I’ve Learned About Child Loss

The first time I shared this I was trying to distill years of walking the broken road of child loss into a relatively few, easy to think about, “lessons”.

Since then I could add a dozen more but today I’ll only add one: Being a bereaved parent is not my IDENTITY but it impacts who I am in ways I’m still figuring out.

Just as being married or being female or being from the southern United States informs how I walk in the world and interact with others so, too, does having buried a child.

There’s a lot of pressure to pretend that’s not true.

But I won’t do that.

❤ Melanie

I’ve had awhile to think about this.  Nine years is a long time to live with loss, to live without the child I carried, raised and sent off in the world.

So I’ve considered carefully what my “top ten” might be.

Here’s MY list (yours might be very different):

Read the rest here: Ten Things I’ve Learned About Child Loss

Ten Years: From Grief Chronicler to Grief Guide

When I started writing here I had two primary goals.

The first was to share what I was experiencing-how child loss impacted every aspect of my life and the life of my family. 

The second was to allow those outside the loss community a glimpse into what it was like inside and how they could develop a compassionate and helpful response to their grieving friends. 

For nearly seven years those goals didn’t change. 

But recently I was asked (in the context of business) what kind of work I do and I answered (without thinking) that I was a “Grief Guide”. 

It fell out of my mouth before I had a chance to edit my words. 

I’ve thought a lot about that exchange since and realized it was an honest answer. Although I’d also add that I am a “Grief Advocate”-not that I hope others grieve but I will absolutely, positively stand up for those who ARE grieving. 

It felt right at the time and, I realized, it IS right for me, for now.

I’m in the process of trying to do more long form writing.

I’m gathering notes from what I’ve shared at conferences, at retreats, in person and online interviews and podcasts to create content that could be published into a book or an anthology of short essays. 

It’s helpful to me and I hope, eventually, it will be helpful to others. 

I don’t think my experience is unique or definitive. 

There are so many ways children leave this world and every family is its own community of loss. I can’t speak for those whose child went to Heaven through long illness or addiction or suicide. I hope the Lord raises up those who experienced that type of loss to share their own stories. 

I can speak to the horror and earth shattering experience of sudden death. 

I can speak as a person of faith to the long and painful process of integrating my lived experience with my beliefs and understanding of who God is and how He works in the world. 

I can speak to the difficulty of parenting (even adult) surviving children and the tightrope I walk managing grief and longing for the one missing with the love and joy of three still with me. 

I can speak to the way life grows around grief and the strength I’ve developed over time which allows me to participate fully in the NOW while holding the BEFORE in my heart. 

I can let friends and family outside our immediate grief circle know about the constant background music loss hums in my ears and the ears of others also mourning a child. There is always a low level (sometimes a greater level!) drain on any energy-emotional, physical, psychological-I may have on a given day. 

I can share how Western society doesn’t provide safe space in the larger context of social gatherings, faith communities and other public places for grievers to just grieve. There is so much pressure to let the funeral or memorial service mark and end to outward expression of sadness, loss, missing and longing. 

I continue to face fresh challenges in this journey which provide new insight and require new courage.

I suspect I will until the day I join Dominic in Heaven. 

My passion for paving the way for those who will (sadly) follow on this journey of child loss has not dimmed. 

Ten Years: What’s Helped and What’s Hurt

If I’m honest, the things that hurt in the first days, weeks and months could fill a book.

But now, I’ve developed a thicker skin and a better perspective.

If you are still early in your journey and, like me, a giant walking nerve, then your list would definitely be different.

I can narrow them down at this point to a few.

What really hurts:

  • Assuming you understand my pain (unless you also have buried a child).
  • Insisting that time=healing.
  • Ignoring the ongoing nature of child loss.
  • Questioning my faith because I question what happened.
  • Refusing space to share about my missing child.
  • Not saying Dominic’s name.
  • Acting like I should “be over it”.
  • Pretending like it never happened or Dominic never existed because it makes you uncomfortable to talk about him.
  • Not acknowledging my surviving children’s grief.
  • Ignoring the times of year when grief is especially heavy like birthdays, holidays, and the anniversary of Dom’s leaving.

What helps:

  • Admitting that you STILL might not know what to say or do to support me and my family in marking the loss of and missing Dominic. It’s OK. I’ll help you.
  • Listening. Even if it’s something you’ve heard before.
  • Reacting to social media posts about Dominic. I’d love to have new photos but I don’t. But I may be sharing a newly recovered memory or exposed feeling.
  • Notes, cards, messages and calls that let me know you KNOW. That you haven’t forgotten and that you still help carry Dom’s light in the world.
  • Granting space and grace when milestones loom large and my capacity for interaction is limited. Don’t ditch me because I don’t get back to you. Please.
  • Accepting that I will never be the person I was BEFORE but that I’m still a person. I need affirmation, love and kindness like everyone else.
  • Asking questions, staying curious and compassionate and allowing me to help you understand how grief is experienced over time.
  • Respecting my boundaries. These have changed since the early days but I still have hard stops that mark the edges of what I can and can’t do and maintain my sanity.
  • Sharing photos or experiences you may have had with Dom. He was an adult when he left us and there are parts of him I don’t know. I always love to see and hear about him.
  • Patience. I didn’t get a manual on how to live after burying my child. I’m learning as I go. I make mistakes, say things I wish I hadn’t said, step on toes. I’m genuinely sorry. I’m doing the very best I can.

I will not say that Dominic’s death is good.

It’s not.

Death is awful and should be recognized for the enemy it is.

But I will say I have gained wisdom through this experience.

I’ve paid a price I would never willingly have paid. And I would trade it all for my boy in the flesh, my arms around him, his deep voice added to the chorus at our table.

I won’t waste it.

I will share it.

I pray every day that it helps other hearts walk this Valley and instructs those walking with us.

Compassion 2024: Understanding the Grieving Heart

In the last post I shared the difference between mourning and grief. While the outward ceremonies have long passed, the inward struggle to embrace and understand the pain and sorrow of losing my son continues.

If you love someone who has lost a child, perhaps these thoughts might help you understand a bit of their pain and how completely it changes the way bereaved parents encounter the world.

Please be patient. Please don’t try to “fix” us. Please be present and compassionate. And if you don’t know what to say, feel free to say nothing-a hug, a smile, an understanding look-they mean so very much.

❤ Melanie

A bereaved parent’s grief doesn’t fit an easy-to-understand narrative. And it flies in the face of the American “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality.

You can’t beat it–it’s not a football game-there is no winning team.

You can’t lose it–it’s not the extra 10 pounds you’ve been carrying since last Christmas.

You can’t get over it–it’s not a teenage love affair that will pale in comparison when the real thing comes along.

You can only survive it.  You can heal from it, but it will take a lifetime and require very special care.

Read the rest here: Loving Well: Understanding the Grieving Heart

Christmas 2023: It’s OK If You Don’t Feel Like Celebrating

If your heart cannot bear the thought of one more holly, jolly song, one more hap-hap-happy get together, one more frenzied rush to the store for a forgotten present or pantry item-just choose to sit this one out.

It is possible to go through the month of December without caving in to consumerism or being guilted into celebrating when your heart’s not in it.

Close the blinds.  Let the telephone go to voicemail.  Fast from social media and turn off the TV.  

Read the rest here: “Get Out of Christmas Free” Card

Christmas 2023: Christmas Cards-Yes? No? Maybe?

Getting Christmas cards out on time was always a challenge in my busy household.  

So for the last years of kids at home, we transitioned to sending New Year’s greetings.  It was easier to get a family photo with everyone home for Christmas, there was no artificial deadline to send them and we could include a “thank you” or respond to news in their Christmas letters.

I hadn’t sent anything for three years.  

What could I say?  

And a family photo was out of the question.

Read the rest here: Christmas Cards-Yes? No? Maybe?

Christmas 2023: Child Loss Does, In Part, Define Me

It’s popular in books, self-help articles and even in some grief groups for people to declare , “Child loss does not (will not, should not) define me”.

And while I will defend to the end another parent’s right to walk this path however seems best and most healing to him or her,  to that statement I say, “Bah! Humbug!”

Child loss DOES define me.

It defines me in the same way that motherhood and marriage define me. 

Read the rest here: Child Loss DOES Define Me

Christmas 2023: “He Wouldn’t Want You to be Sad” and Other Myths

If I got ten grieving parents in a room we could write down fifty things we wish people would stop saying in about five minutes.

Most of the time folks do it out of ignorance or in a desperate attempt to sound compassionate or to change the subject (death is very uncomfortable) or simply because they can’t just shut their mouths and offer silent companionship.

And most of the time, I and other bereaved parents just smile and nod and add one more encounter to a long list of unhelpful moments when we have to be the bigger person and take the blow without wincing.

But there is one common phrase that I think needs attention

Read the rest here: “He Wouldn’t Want You to be Sad” and Other Myths

Christmas 2023: Surviving Siblings and Christmas

I first shared this post in 2016 when we had muddled through the first two holiday seasons after Dominic left us and were headed for a third.

Now facing our tenth, there are some things that have changed a lot (adding grandchildren and losing my mama) and some things that remain the same (the ongoing struggle to balance everyone’s needs and expectations with the reality of sorrow).

I still find the principles I outlined years ago to be the best way to approach the season. We certainly don’t always get it right but we continue to strive to honor one another, to honor the true meaning of Christmas and to honor Dominic.

❤ Melanie

How do I honor the child for whom memories are all I have and love well the children with whom I am still making memories?

That’s a question I ask myself often.

And it is especially difficult to answer for celebrations and holidays, special events and birthdays.

Read the rest here: Surviving Siblings and Christmas

Christmas 2023: Inviting Grief to the Table-Holiday Host Etiquette

Spending holidays with friends and family while grieving is hard. No one is really comfortable-neither the bereaved nor those hosting them.

But there are ways to welcome grief to your table, to pave the way for the broken and bruised to join you, if they are able.

Here’s something that’s been going around social media circles this holiday season and offers advice on hosting the bereaved this Christmas.

❤ Melanie

Holiday Host Etiquette by Sarah Nannen

(Emphasis and paragraphs added)

“If you’re inviting someone to your home and they’re grieving, be sure you’re inviting their grief to attend, too. It will be there, anyway.

Read the rest here: Inviting Grief to the Table: Holiday Host Etiquette