Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year.
This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.
What if the next year is worse? How will we manage? Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?
Truth is, we can’t.
So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.
Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts
We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We plot and plan and hope and dream but in the end we have very little control over how our story ultimately plays out.
So we are left each New Year’s Eve with some good memories, some not so good ones and some we cling to like gold from a treasure chest because they are all we have.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?
Never.
Read the rest here: New Year’s Eve and Auld Lang Syne
There are so many ways child loss impacts relationships!
Some of the people you think will stand beside you for the long haul either never show up or disappear right after the funeral.
Some people you never expected to hang around not only come running but choose to stay.
And every. single. relationship. gets more complicated.
When your heart is shattered, there are lots of sharp edges that end up cutting you and everyone around you. It is pretty much inevitable that one or more relationships will need mending at some point.
Read the rest here: Emotional Overload and T.M.I.
I’ve been stretched this year in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Everyone I love has needed me-often at the same time and in disparate geographical locations.
I’ve learned the ins and outs of caregiving for a previously independent parent, navigated our complex healthcare system and traveled miles and miles in a dirt covered car because there is absolutely NO time to get it washed.
I’ve shoved grief down into an iron chest and screwed the lid on tight because I knew if I ever let it sneak out, I wouldn’t be able to get it back in.
The thing is, life goes on after child loss, with or without our permission. All the roles we filled BEFORE must still be filled. And I want to fill them.
But some days it would be lovely to have a break.
❤ Melanie
It would be helpful if the world could just stop for a day or a week (or a year!) when your heart is shattered by the news that one of the children you birthed into this world has suddenly left it.
But it doesn’t.
And immediately all the roles I have played for decades are overlaid by a new role: bereaved mother. Except instead of being definitive or even descriptive, this role is more like a foggy blanket that obscures and disorients me as I struggle to fulfill all the roles to which I’ve become accustomed.
Read the rest here: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend
In the daylight
In the dark
In my dreams
Things creep in at the corner of my vision
Or sounds slip in unnoticed
Until my brain puts them together and screams, “Oh no!”.
Read the rest here: Swallowing Panic
This has been an odd (to put it mildly) Christmas season. I haven’t done half of what I normally do and now there’s no time to catch up and do it.
I’ve been off balance since mid-September, hanging on by the seat of my pants and just barely managing the necessities.
So I really, really, really needed to read what I wrote several years ago.
Back then there was no chance I’d produce a full-fledged, decked out spread for Christmas. But I’ve gotten better at it since.
Just not this year. So if you are falling behind or falling down, you’re not alone!
❤ Melanie
So many ways to be reminded of how hard it is to hold on in these days and weeks around Christmas.
If your heart is barely able to beat, the pressure to be “hap-hap-happy” can send you over the edge.
If your home is empty of cheerful voices, the constant barrage of commercials touting family togetherness can leave you feeling oh, so lonely.
Early sunsets and darker nights send feel-good hormones flying and leave a body aching for just a little relief from anxious and depressing thoughts.
When you think you can’t hold on, let go.
Read the rest here: When You Think You Can’t Hold On
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
I first shared this a few years ago when I really thought I should have reached a place in my grief journey where holidays weren’t as difficult as they were at first.
But what I realized then and what has been confirmed since is that every year has new and unique situations that make Christmas a fresh challenge each time.
As the twelfth Christmas without Dominic rapidly approaches, I am pondering the question: “Why, oh why, is Christmas so hard?”
I think I’ve figured out at least a few reasons why.
For me, probably THE biggest reason Christmas is hard is because it throws off the routine I depend on to shepherd my heart through a day. It’s easiest for me to manage when I have at least a couple of hours of quiet time each morning. I need those silent moments to let my heart feel what it needs to feel, to cry if I must and to orient my thoughts after, once again, “remembering” that Dominic isn’t here.
Changing schedules and extra commitments mean that some nights I stay up later than usual and can’t manage to get out of bed in time to have those hours. Extra people in the house mean that they may get up and join me in the living room. While I love the company, I have to be honest and say I would love it more a little later in the day.
Another reason I struggle at Christmas is because all (almost all!) the family is together in one place. This may sound odd to anyone who hasn’t buried a child, but when every single person I care most deeply for is together, it highlights the space where Dominic SHOULD be but ISN’T.
Other times of the year we are more or less a full circle-as long as one or two others are missing, it kind of feels like maybe, just maybe, Dominic is away for awhile instead of away for the rest of my life. But when we are all gathered round the table or the tree or the fireplace, it is oh, so obvious that he isn’t here.
Buying presents and filling stockings I go down the list. I have to skip Dom because he won’t be here to open gifts or pull out his favorite candy from a Christmas sock. I can’t even mail him a package where he is. So I try to focus on the fact that his Christmas is the best one, because he is with the One Who IS Christmas.
But my heart still hurts, still yearns for one more hilarious morning when the camcorder won’t work or one of our sleepy young adults refuses to roll out of bed while the rest of us are waiting.
We are waiting now for a different kind of morning-one where the light dawns and never dims.
While I am in no way ashamed of the grief I carry-great love means great grief- I do try not to burden others with my tears at events or in places where smiles should rule. The Christmas season multiplies those occasions and calls for so. much. energy. just to maintain my “happy face” for the masses. It’s exhausting in a way only other grievers can truly understand.
And, of course, we celebrate Christmas in the US during what my grandmother used to call “the dark of the year”. Shorter days, longer nights means less time outside, less sunshine to generate the feel-good hormones I depend on to get me through each moment. When the nights come early and linger long, my mind has more time to ruminate on what was and what will never be again.
Finally, because Christmas is stressful for everyone for different reasons, people can just be a little harder to deal with-less flexible, more impatient, quicker to take offense or give it. All that emotional drama can overwhelm my heart in a flash-leaving me speechless, crying and anxious. It’s no one’s fault. It just is what it is.
For all these reasons-and dozens more-Christmas is an especially difficult time of year for this hurting heart.
So I try to be gentle to myself and to extend the same grace to ME that I extend to others.
I remind my heart that it is perfectly OK to turn down invitations when I just. can’t. go.
I lean into the Promise born in the manger-Emmanuel, God with us-and hold on with both hands.
It’s easy to read the stories of Zechariah and Mary, both visited by the angel Gabriel with unlikely and hard-to-believe messages, and wonder why Zechariah was struck dumb when he asked a question but Mary was commended.
The difference is heart attitude.
26-28 Then, six months after Zacharias’ vision, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a Galilean town, Nazareth by name, to a young woman who was engaged to a man called Joseph. The girl’s name was Mary. The angel entered her room and said, “Greetings to you, Mary. O favoured one!—the Lord be with you!”
29-33 Mary was deeply perturbed at these words and wondered what such a greeting could possibly mean. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; God loves you dearly. You are going to be the mother of a son, and you will call him Jesus. He will be great and will be known as the Son of the most high. The Lord God will give him the throne of his forefather, David, and he will be king over the people of Jacob for ever. His reign shall never end.”
34 Then Mary spoke to the angel, “How can this be,” she said, “I am not married!”
35-37 But the angel made this reply to her—“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the most high will overshadow you. Your child will therefore be called holy—the Son of God. Your cousin Elisabeth has also conceived a son, old as she is. Indeed, this is the sixth month for her, a woman who was called barren. For no promise of God can fail to be fulfilled.”
38 “I belong to the Lord, body and soul,” replied Mary, “let it happen as you say.” And at this the angel left her.
Luke 1:26-38 PHILLIPS
Zechariah was a priest who had studied the Torah and should have understood the sovereignty of God. He didn’t ask a question about how Gabriel’s prophecy would come true, he asked for proof that it WOULD come true.
He questioned God’s character and faithfulness.
Mary was a poor young woman who was (most likely) unfamiliar with Scripture except what she had heard in the synagogue.
She knew how babies were made and asked a very practical question.
She wasn’t suggesting God COULDN’T do it, she simply wondered HOW He would do it.
It is portrayed so sweetly in Christmas plays and Christmas movies:
Mary bowing her head in response to the angel Gabriel’s announcement that she has been chosen to bear the Savior.
I don’t know what went through her mind before she answered. I’m not sure she had a clue what submission to God’s will would look like as it played out across the months and years.
I only know that she was willing.
And God honored her willingness to bend her knee and her heart regardless of the unknown cost.
I’m not as noble as Mary. I didn’t answer quickly when God allowed my life to be turned upside down. I kicked and screamed and resisted as long as I could.
But who can fight Almighty God?
How can I carry on if I resist the Only One Who can carry me?
My heart still balks.
It. Is. Still. So. Very. Hard.
But I bow my head and heart each morning and ask for the grace to make it true:
“Behold, I am the servant of the LORD; let it be to me according to your word.” ~Luke 1:38
QUESTIONS:
PRAYER:
Father God,
Oh, how I long for Mary’s faith! How my heart yearns to be always willing, always wanting to let You do whatever You deem good and right. But I balk at giving up control-even as I admit I have no control-to You or anyone else.
I am often dismayed and even angry at the things You allow. I am distraught that You don’t intervene when You most certainly can and I think You most definitely should.
Help me submit willingly to Your plan. Help me wait patiently for the fruit of obedience. Give me strength to endure even when the road is long and the path inky darkness.
You are Faithful and True. You are Light and Life. Help me hold onto that truth and rest in Your goodness and love.
Amen
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 twelfth, 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.
I’ve probably had it a bit easier than many bereaved parents.
My children were all adults when Dominic left us for Heaven.
We have strong relationships and a track record of talking things through. So I can ask them about what is helpful to them and tell them what is hard for me. We all acknowledge that we are finding our way in the dark and that changing circumstances make it important to keep the lines of communication open.
We are experiencing our ninth set of holidays this year and have yet to establish a pattern or routine that works every time.
But here are some things we are learning together-some things my children are teaching me about surviving siblings and Christmas:
I am trying hard to love and honor and support the children still with me and also make room for Dominic, who lives in our hearts.
It’s a delicate balancing act on a spiderweb of intersecting strings-I’m still learning and it’s hard.
But love is ALWAYS worth the cost.
thelifeididntchoose 