Tag: grief waves

An Invitation: Blue Christmas Service

One of the reasons I founded Heartache and Hope, the ministry, was to be able to provide safe spaces-online and in person-for bereaved parents to gather because so often grief is excluded from our tables.

Most holiday celebrations don’t lend themselves to broken hearts expressing how very hard it is to bear up under the pressure to be hap-hap-happy while grieving the loss of a child.

To be honest, I doubt any degree of education or advocacy will change that on a larger scale.

But I want Heartache and Hope to make a difference in our own local community by hosting a “Blue Christmas” service at my home church in Bibb County, Alabama.

So, if you are able, join me Thursday, December 5th at 6:00 PM for an evening of gentle worship, remembrance and prayer-looking to Jesus, the Light of the World and the true meaning of Christmas.

The people who had been living in darkness have seen a great light. The light of life has shined on those who dwelt in the shadowy darkness of death.

~ Isaiah 9:1

My desire is that together we lean into the hope of the Promised One who came as a babe so long ago.

Don’t drag your heart through Advent feeling unseen, unheard and unloved.

Join me.

You can RSVP and get more information here:

https://www.heartacheandhope.org/event-details/blue-christmas

Oh, How I Miss Your Voice!

I try to limit the time I spend perusing old photos and old social media posts of my missing son.

I’ve learned that while they remind me of sweet memories and happy times they also prick my heart in ways nothing else can.

I was looking for something specific the other day and had to scroll through Dominic’s Facebook page to find it. As I did, I began reading some of the back and forth comments under the posts and pictures.

This time it wasn’t what was said or where the photos were taken that hurt my heart.

Instead it was the tiny little time stamp underneath the words that took my breath away.

Read the rest here: I Miss Your Voice: Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart

When Afraid to Fall Asleep, I Speak Peace to My Heart

When I was a little girl, I struggled mightily being afraid of the dark.

Sometimes I could barely close my eyes because I was scared something terrible would happen between going to sleep and waking up.

I outgrew that as I grew into my faith.

go to sleep in peace

But after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I found myself again afraid to go to sleep. 

Read the rest here: Between Sleep and Wake: Speaking Peace To My Heart

Falling Leaves -How Autumn Affects My Heart

We think people live to the fullness of years.  They begin in spring and pass through all the seasons before the cold winter claims them.

old-lady

But some survive only one season, or two–never enjoying the fruitful harvest of the latter years the younger years of hard work are meant to produce.

Read the rest here: Falling Leaves

Gap’s Still Growing: Trying to Remember in a World That Forgets

I’ve written before about how I choose to leave some things just as Dominic left them-even over eight years later.

It’s my way of maintaining physical space in our home that represents the space in my heart where only he can fit.

It’s also more than that.

As time progresses, nearly every other tangible evidence that Dominic existed is being worn away.

Read the rest here: And The Gap Grows: Trying To Remember In a World That Forgets

International Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day 2024

A mama’s heart never lets go of the life that lived inside her.

That tiny baby-one week, one month, full term-is her son or daughter.

Counted among the others.

Just as precious.

Always.

Read the rest here: International Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day

Unbelievably, Broken Hearts Still Beat

When your child leaves this world, your mind and heart work hard to extract hints of the coming tragedy from all kinds of random events.

For me, there were eerie parallels between how I experienced his birth and how I experienced the news of his death.Melanie

When Dominic was born by C-section, they placed the epidural too high and I was unable to feel my chest rise and fall as I continued to breathe.  

It was a frightening experience.  

Read the rest here: Broken Hearts Still Beat

Some Practical Ideas From Other Parents for Navigating Holidays After Child Loss

It cannot be overstated:  holidays are extremely hard after loss.  Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T.

There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child.

For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year.

These days also stir great internal conflict:  I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh so difficult to manage.

So I’m including some ideas from other bereaved parents on how they’ve handled the holidays.  Many of these suggestions could be adapted for any “special” day of the year.

Not all will appeal to everyone nor will they be appropriate for every family.  But they are a place to start.

Read the rest here: Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss

THIS is What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family During Holidays

I know it is hard.  I know you don’t truly understand how I feel.  You can’t.  It wasn’t your child.

I know I may look and act like I’m “better”.  I know that you would love for things to be like they were:  BEFORE.  But they aren’t.

I know my grief interferes with your plans.  I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years.  But I can’t help it.  I didn’t ask for this to be my life.

I know that every year I seem to need something different.  I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating.  But I’m working this out as I go.  I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son.  It’s new for me every year too.

Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays: What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

My Child Existed, He Matters.

I hid this post in my draft folder for months before I published it the first time.

It seemed too raw, too full of all the pain inside my mama heart to put out in the wide world for everyone to see.

And then it was time (like now) to change the flowers on the place where my son’s body rests and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT ALL THERE IS OF MY BOY!” I wanted to stop people on the street and make them listen to his story, to give away a piece of him for others to carry in their hearts.

My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory.

He is integral to my story, blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh–part of my life.

I rest assured he lives in heaven with Jesus but I miss him here with me. That’s selfish, I know.  But I can’t seem to help it.

Read the rest here: You Existed, You Exist