child loss – Page 222 – thelifeididntchoose

Child Loss: Friends and Family Can Anchor a Heart

Child loss rips through a life like a tornado-wild, unpredictable, viciously destructive.

It drops from the sky like a meteorite-no warning, no defense, just crushing weight.

It wrecks havoc in absolutely every corner of a bereaved parents’ heart and life.

And there is no safe space to escape from nor insurance policy to cover THAT damage.

When Dominic was killed, his sudden death instantly untethered me from the world as I knew it. I needed friends and family to anchor my heart in love and support so I didn’t float away. ❤

Repost: Why is the Second Year SO Hard?

I remember very well the morning I woke on April 12, 2015-it was one year since I’d gotten the awful news; one year since the life I thought I was going to have turned into the life I didn’t choose.

I was horrified that my heart had continued to beat for 365 days when I was sure it wouldn’t make it through the first 24 hours.

And I was terrified.

Read the rest here: Why is the Second Year SO Hard?

Repost: How Do I DO This? The Question Every Bereaved Parent Longs To Ask

After the flurry of activity surrounding the funeral, our house was so, so quiet.

Even with the five of us still here, it felt empty.

Because Dominic was gone, gone, gone and he was not coming back.

And the silence pounded into my head and heart until it became a scream:

How do I DO this?

Read the rest here: How Do I DO This? The Question Every Bereaved Parent Longs to Ask

Why Am I Still Writing About Loss Five Years Out?

I was one of those people years ago who set her sights on starting and maintaining a blog.

I thought I would post a few times a week and share anecdotes about my family and critters, insight into daily living and inspiration from Scripture and interesting quotes.

No, not THIS blog-the other two I started and quickly abandoned to who-knows-where in cyberspace.

Trouble was that the subject matter, while near and dear to my heart, wasn’t personally compelling enough to keep me disciplined and actively writing.

If someone had said, “Pick any topic to write about”, child loss wouldn’t have been in the first million choices.

No one CHOOSES child loss (Thus the name of the blog: The Life I Didn’t Choose).

But untold numbers of parents EXPERIENCE it every year. This very day, parents somewhere got a knock on the door or a phone call or sat next to a hospital bed as life slipped slowly from their child’s tired body.

Since I was already journaling and had walked this Valley for nearly a year and a half, it dawned on me that the ramblings I’d put down might be helpful to another heart. So I started THIS blog in September, 2015.

And I’ve been here ever since.

I’m not in the raw, breathless place I once was. But grief and loss are part of every breath I take, part of every moment I experience.

I miss Dominic. I still consider death an enemy. Every day I hate what was stolen and long for what was. I mourn the changes grief has wrought in my family. I wish things were different. I discover new ways loss impacts my life and new ways of coping with it.

So I keep writing.

I don’t want anyone to feel alone in this journey. I don’t want anyone to think there’s no way to survive. I don’t want a single broken heart to doubt that God is here and that He will help you hold onto hope.

I’ll spill my heart out in words until the words are exhausted.

It helps me.

I pray it helps others too.

Child Loss: Finding Courage to Face the Future

I think it was somewhere around two months from Dominic’s departure when my heart realized life was moving forward whether I granted permission or not.

Not only folks on the fringes and the “bigger world out there” but close by-in my own family, my own circle of intimate friends-people were making plans, having birthdays, going places and doing things.

I wanted to scream.

Could the world not take more notice that it was absolutely NOT business as usual? Was I the only one whose heart was so shattered that the thought of another sunrise was painful? How could I walk into a future that didn’t include Dominic?

By the grace of God, I did it.

No one can keep the world from turning, the sun from rising, time from ticking by.

But it took a great deal of strength and courage.

First it was a “grin and bear it” kind of courage. I strapped on my armor and tucked a hankie in my pocket. I could show up and smile (a bit), talk (awhile) and muddle through.

Sometimes it didn’t go so well. I had to apologize and leave early. And I was always exhausted.

Then it was an “I’m going to be present for my family” kind of courage. The last thing I wanted to do was shortchange my earthbound children. I worked to get a better handle on my thoughts and emotions. I learned how to pre-grieve major events and milestones. I found I could bring Dom with me by wearing a meaningful piece of jewelry or tucking a keepsake away where I could touch it if I needed to.

I was able to laugh (most of the time), make small talk and write dates on the calendar again.

Now the courage that helps me hold on as I’m pulled forward into the future is informed by the fact that every passing day is one day closer to the reunion my heart longs for. What first seemed impossible is now habitual. Sorrow and joy can coexist. I don’t have to be empty of one to feel the other. The future is not my enemy-it’s where I can and will love ALL my children, husband, family and friends well until the day we are in eternity together forever.

My love for Dominic is Background Music to everything I do. But it doesn’t always demand my full attention. Sorrow is no longer all I feel and Dominic’s absence no longer all I see.

Sunrise is still hard to face some days.

My heart will always long for the time things were as they should be instead of how they are.

But I’m thankful for the courage to step into the future even when I’m afraid.

Give Sorrow Words

The morning Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, after I made the awful phone calls I reached for my journal.

I knew if I didn’t start spilling the grief onto paper my heart would explode with sorrow.

Since I learned to hold a pencil I’ve been writing.

It’s how I sort my thoughts, figure out my feelings and express my heart.

A few months after and I found several online support groups.

There I learned a whole other Language of Grief and Loss. The more I read what others shared, the better I understood my own experience and understood how to communicate that truth to others.

You might not keep a journal or write poetry or craft lengthy essays about your pain and that’s just fine. There’s no magic in written words.

Find a safe space or person and speak it aloud.

Sorrow unspoken swells.

It can’t be contained.

It will absolutely consume you.

“Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship”

“Death ends a life, not a relationship.” ~ Tuesdays with Morrie

A parent’s love doesn’t end simply because a child leaves this earth.

The relationship is not over as long as a bereaved parent’s heart beats.

So we face a challenge: How do we express love to and honor relationship with a child out of sight and out of reach?

We tell our stories and theirs. We start foundations or fund scholarships or do Random Acts of Kindness in honor of our son or daughter. We lobby legislators and city councils. We fight for changes in medical protocol. We post pictures on social media to keep their lights bright in friends’ and family’s memories.

And we say their names.

Because death can take a body, but it can’t steal a relationship.

Repost: The Danger of Rushing To Serve After Loss

There are all kinds of doubts that creep in and take up residence in a mind after child loss.

Most of them have to do with the child that ran ahead to heaven.

But many are also about me: “What should I be doing? Where should I go from here?”

For those of us active in church ministries, we wonder, “When do I return to service?”

Read the rest here: The Danger of Rushing to Serve After Loss

Crossroads: Celebrations After Child Loss

I want to be everything my living children need me to be.

I try hard to celebrate them, be available, listen closely and love them well.

I never, ever want them to feel they are competing with their missing brother for my affection or my attention.

But I’d be lying if I said it was always easy.

Sometimes the happy moment so closely resembles a shared memory that includes Dominic, my heart takes my head in directions I wish it wouldn’t go. Sometimes it’s a long awaited once-in-a-lifetime occasion and Dom’s absence is a giant, gaping hole everywhere I look.

It’s really hard to be stuck at the crossroad of being happy for a child still here while mourning and missing the child that’s gone.

I’ve had to do that many, many times in the five years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and I’ve found a couple of things that help.

I put something in my pocket or wear a piece of jewelry that is a token of my love for Dominic.

It helps me feel as if he’s represented even if no one else knows about it. Then I lean in and take hold of the celebration as best as I can. When I feel overwhelmed, I touch my little token and/or escape to a quiet corner or bathroom for a minute or two and collect myself.

I also try to do something called “pre-grieving”.

I allow myself time early in the morning of an event to be alone and cry if I need to. If the tears won’t come, I listen to music that helps my heart reach that place of release. I journal my feelings. I walk through the day and admit where it might be especially challenging. I think through how I can deal with that and make a plan.

It makes a difference.

So much has been stolen from my surviving children.

I don’t want them robbed of their mama too.

Repost: Fathers Grieve Too

In honor of Father’s Day tomorrow, I’m reposting this blog from a few months ago.

It’s true that there is a lopsided representation of mothers’ points of view in the child loss community. But much of that is a function of the (very general) tendency of women (as a group) to be more vocal about their feelings than men (as a group).

I hope more bereaved dads will take up the mantle and make their voices heard. So many broken hearts need to know they are not alone. ❤

I’ve gotten a similar comment from two different bereaved fathers in the past two days.

It goes something like this, “I’m offended by the implication (one was in a meme, another was a reader comment) that mothers grieve more than dads”.

I appreciate the comments even though I disagreed with the interpretation these men gave to what was actually stated.

I responded by saying that since I am a mother-not a father-I write from my own perspective. I don’t try to fit my shoes on anyone else’s feet.

Read the rest here: Fathers Grieve Too

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: