It is rare that I am home watching TV on a Friday night (we are firm believers in trying to kick off the weekend with a diversion), but last night I found myself watching Dateline for the first time in a year. The program was depressing, but I was caught up in the report within minutes. It was about a man and woman (brother and sister) who, as teenagers in 1979, were the victims of a home invasion. Their father was a prominent Oklahoma minister and he and their mother were both senselessly murdered in the random attack. The children both survived, although they were critically wounded. The Dateline report was about this man's and woman's journeys since that horrible event -- the agony of the murderers' trials and multiple court appeals, the failed relationships they experienced, and how they eventually began to heal and were able to move forward. While the experience will obviously impact them the rest of their lives, the real focus of the story became the young man's ability to forgive the person who pulled the trigger that horrendous night. A lot of the questions to him centered around, "how could you possibly forgive someone who did that?"
What struck me in all the questions and answers about forgiveness was that no one ever mentioned that forgiveness does not mean condoning the hurtful action that occurred. When I was trained by the Grief Recovery Institute as a group facilitator, that point was one that hit me hard. I had never thought of it that way. The Institute's philosophy is that forgiveness really means, "I am not going to let this hurt me anymore." By looking at it that way, it gives at least a minuscule piece of responsibility (and control) to the person who feels they have been wronged. It becomes their decision as to how they want to move forward.
I was very angry at a certain individual caregiver who failed us when Kathleen died. I could not have been convinced at the time that there was any way I could forgive him. When I started to look at forgiveness as setting myself free rather than letting him totally off the hook, I was better able to let go and move on.
If you find yourself angry and unable to forgive someone, I hope that you give this some thought, because you might find that it is helpful. No one deserves to live their life filled with anger, and I certainly believe that Kathleen would not have wanted her death to result in that for me.
Grief and social media
It seems that social media is affecting nearly everything these days, including how we grieve. We recently started a Facebook page for A Place To Remember and it's a daily challenge to know what kinds of things to post -- what is helpful? what is too much? what is just plain silly? There is no doubt that it is a changing world technologically and even less doubt that it will continue at a rapid pace.
If you are willing, let me know what you think works and what does not work as far as providing the best avenues for communicating about your grief. Whether it is how I (and you ) use this blog, a Facebook page, Twitter, or some other new fangled "app" that I likely have not even heard of yet, I would like to know what you think!
It's 2011, and what better time is there to start acting like I know what is going on with all this stuff! Thanks!!
New Empathy for Grandparents
Often it's hard to fully appreciate what a person is going through until you find yourself experiencing something similar.
When Monica and I were dealing with various pregnancy complications during the childbearing years, I was so focused on my own stress that I did not give a great deal of thought to what that must have been like for my parents. Now that my daughter, Emily, is pregnant with her third child and experiencing the complications of preterm labor at 22 weeks, I am gaining a new understanding.
Personally, Monica and I dealt with the loss of Emily's twin, Kathleen's stillbirth, a molar pregnancy, an early miscarriage, and an abysmal prenatal diagnosis, but never had problems with preterm labor. We had a loss between each of our 4 living children, and our youngest daughter, Maggie, was the one where prenatal testing suggested she would not survive after birth. In that case, we got lucky and she was fine.
In part because we live in Minnesota and Emily and her family live in Arizona, Monica and I find ourselves worrying about what is going on or might happen, and feel guilty that we can't be there to help out. Every time their phone number pops up on my cell phone, my heart races a little and I have to swallow hard before I answer. On the couple of occasions that it was Emily or Bryant calling to say they were heading to the hospital to be checked, I find myself going into "Mr. Positive" mode, assuring them that probably everything is fine, but it's always good to go in to the doctor or hospital if they are worried. My parents often played that role with us, and I guess in part that is why I did not really think those times were all that difficult for them. To be honest, I just didn't think a lot about it.
So, if you find yourself frustrated with your parents fretting or irritated with their erratic behavior, take a minute to think about what this experience is like for them. I can vouch for the fact that it's very difficult seeing your own kids stressed and scared, knowing there is not a alot you can do to help!
When Monica and I were dealing with various pregnancy complications during the childbearing years, I was so focused on my own stress that I did not give a great deal of thought to what that must have been like for my parents. Now that my daughter, Emily, is pregnant with her third child and experiencing the complications of preterm labor at 22 weeks, I am gaining a new understanding.
Personally, Monica and I dealt with the loss of Emily's twin, Kathleen's stillbirth, a molar pregnancy, an early miscarriage, and an abysmal prenatal diagnosis, but never had problems with preterm labor. We had a loss between each of our 4 living children, and our youngest daughter, Maggie, was the one where prenatal testing suggested she would not survive after birth. In that case, we got lucky and she was fine.
In part because we live in Minnesota and Emily and her family live in Arizona, Monica and I find ourselves worrying about what is going on or might happen, and feel guilty that we can't be there to help out. Every time their phone number pops up on my cell phone, my heart races a little and I have to swallow hard before I answer. On the couple of occasions that it was Emily or Bryant calling to say they were heading to the hospital to be checked, I find myself going into "Mr. Positive" mode, assuring them that probably everything is fine, but it's always good to go in to the doctor or hospital if they are worried. My parents often played that role with us, and I guess in part that is why I did not really think those times were all that difficult for them. To be honest, I just didn't think a lot about it.
So, if you find yourself frustrated with your parents fretting or irritated with their erratic behavior, take a minute to think about what this experience is like for them. I can vouch for the fact that it's very difficult seeing your own kids stressed and scared, knowing there is not a alot you can do to help!
"They Were Still Born" - NEW BOOK
They Were Still Born, By Janel Atlas: I was pleased to be asked to contribute a chapter to this new book, which is a compilation of personal reflections on stillbirth. It's a beautiful book filled with a variety of perspectives from those who have lived through this tragedy. Available from Amazon.
Living through the holidays
At a time of year when we all feel like we should be happy, light, grateful, and giving, it can be overwhelming to feel sad, angry, and less than generous. Anyone can experience these emotions, but when you are facing the holidays for the first time after a significant loss, the feelings can be downright daunting.
I have written about the holidays before on here and don't want to repeat what you can already find on this blog, but I do want you newly bereaved parents to know that there are people out here who understand at least some of what you are experiencing, and I hope you will reach out for help if you feel the need. For those of you who have already lived through the first year or two after the death of your baby, one of the greatest gifts you can give this holiday season is to offer your own story of hope and survival. Experts can write about this stuff until they are blue in the face (and what they have to say is very valuable) but often bereaved parents want to hear directly from other bereaved parents. They want to know of someone who can relate to them on that very personal level of having been there. They simply want to hear words of understanding from those who have walked this path.
It's been many years since Kathleen died on that beautiful late September afternoon, but in all the Christmas seasons we have lived through since then, I have not been able to avoid a one where at some point it strikes me how hopelessly sad I was that first year. For me, that memory most often hits me when we are sitting in church on Christmas Eve, listening to music and seeing all the little kids barely able to contain their excitement as they bounce up and down in their Christmas outfits. I love that part of the holiday, but I recall all too well how guilty I felt for feeling anger when I witnessed that for the first time after Kathleen was born. The pain of knowing she would never be one of those kids, nearly tore me apart.
Today, I once again find joy in that vision and comfort in the belief that our child is safe and happy. While that has worked for me, each of you must find your own peace in your own timeframe. Allow yourself to feel your sadness, but do not ever give up hope that your life can be happy again. I firmly believe your baby would not want any less for you.
NOTE: Here are links to some resources that might be helpful (copy and paste link in your browser):
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=51
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=104
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=112
I have written about the holidays before on here and don't want to repeat what you can already find on this blog, but I do want you newly bereaved parents to know that there are people out here who understand at least some of what you are experiencing, and I hope you will reach out for help if you feel the need. For those of you who have already lived through the first year or two after the death of your baby, one of the greatest gifts you can give this holiday season is to offer your own story of hope and survival. Experts can write about this stuff until they are blue in the face (and what they have to say is very valuable) but often bereaved parents want to hear directly from other bereaved parents. They want to know of someone who can relate to them on that very personal level of having been there. They simply want to hear words of understanding from those who have walked this path.
It's been many years since Kathleen died on that beautiful late September afternoon, but in all the Christmas seasons we have lived through since then, I have not been able to avoid a one where at some point it strikes me how hopelessly sad I was that first year. For me, that memory most often hits me when we are sitting in church on Christmas Eve, listening to music and seeing all the little kids barely able to contain their excitement as they bounce up and down in their Christmas outfits. I love that part of the holiday, but I recall all too well how guilty I felt for feeling anger when I witnessed that for the first time after Kathleen was born. The pain of knowing she would never be one of those kids, nearly tore me apart.
Today, I once again find joy in that vision and comfort in the belief that our child is safe and happy. While that has worked for me, each of you must find your own peace in your own timeframe. Allow yourself to feel your sadness, but do not ever give up hope that your life can be happy again. I firmly believe your baby would not want any less for you.
NOTE: Here are links to some resources that might be helpful (copy and paste link in your browser):
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=51
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=104
http://www.aplacetoremember.com/pdshop/shop/item.aspx?itemid=112
Caregivers make a difference.....
I am speaking to a caregiver conference in Delaware the end of October and need your input. If you could share with me stories about caregivers who made a difference in your grieving (good and bad) I would like to incorporate some of those stories into my talk.
I have been on both sides of this fence and am quite passionate about the impact good (and not-so-good) caregivers can have on families. What do you think?
I have been on both sides of this fence and am quite passionate about the impact good (and not-so-good) caregivers can have on families. What do you think?
It's Fall -- here we go again?
I think about "grief triggers" every year at this time because Kathleen died on September 27. The combination of that date along with the beginning of the Fall season always brings both Monica and I down a little. This year there are the added factors of my Dad's death in June and the fact that our youngest child went off to college Labor Day weekend. For the first time in nearly 29 years, we are without kids in the house! (don't do the math)
So, what do you do when you think time has passed, you are doing quite well with your sadness, and then something comes along that makes you feel like you just took a giant step backward?
First of all, I think you need to be able to recognize what is happening. Even after all these years, when Monica and I get a little sad around the time school is starting, I still fail to catch on right away as to what might be adding to that sadness. I guess it seems like it shouldn't be happening any more.
Once you recognize what might be triggering your sadness, the next step is to acknowledge it and know that it's ok to feel that way. It does not mean that you are starting over in your grieving and all the progress you have made is going down the drain. It certainly does not mean that you are losing your mind. But, it also doesn't mean that it's the last time it will ever happen.
I have come to realize that these moments are not only gifts because they make me pause and reflect, they also continue to teach me something.
When Kathleen died, our priest let us down in ways that were nearly unforgiveable, and I have never since set foot inside the church we were members of at that time. Even though we made the move to the suburbs years ago and no longer live near that building, it's not far from my office. Over theyears I have tried to avoid it when I drive down the beautiful street it is located on. This summer, due to road construction, I had to alter my route to work and drove by the church every day. To add to my dilemma, there is a stoplight right in front and I often find myself sitting at that intersection longer than I wish. At first, I did not turn my head. Soon I was glancing that direction but not letting myself really think about it. But then, as the weeks went by, I started letting myself feel my anger and soon realized that it was time to let go of it. Not only is that priest long gone from the parish, I realized how silly it was to not let myself see the beauty of that massive building and recall the positive things that happened when we were members. I had to ask myself who I was really hurting?
I guess my point is that if we remain open to letting ourselves both recognize our grief as well as acknowledge it, there is still room to both grow and heal.
So, what do you do when you think time has passed, you are doing quite well with your sadness, and then something comes along that makes you feel like you just took a giant step backward?
First of all, I think you need to be able to recognize what is happening. Even after all these years, when Monica and I get a little sad around the time school is starting, I still fail to catch on right away as to what might be adding to that sadness. I guess it seems like it shouldn't be happening any more.
Once you recognize what might be triggering your sadness, the next step is to acknowledge it and know that it's ok to feel that way. It does not mean that you are starting over in your grieving and all the progress you have made is going down the drain. It certainly does not mean that you are losing your mind. But, it also doesn't mean that it's the last time it will ever happen.
I have come to realize that these moments are not only gifts because they make me pause and reflect, they also continue to teach me something.
When Kathleen died, our priest let us down in ways that were nearly unforgiveable, and I have never since set foot inside the church we were members of at that time. Even though we made the move to the suburbs years ago and no longer live near that building, it's not far from my office. Over theyears I have tried to avoid it when I drive down the beautiful street it is located on. This summer, due to road construction, I had to alter my route to work and drove by the church every day. To add to my dilemma, there is a stoplight right in front and I often find myself sitting at that intersection longer than I wish. At first, I did not turn my head. Soon I was glancing that direction but not letting myself really think about it. But then, as the weeks went by, I started letting myself feel my anger and soon realized that it was time to let go of it. Not only is that priest long gone from the parish, I realized how silly it was to not let myself see the beauty of that massive building and recall the positive things that happened when we were members. I had to ask myself who I was really hurting?
I guess my point is that if we remain open to letting ourselves both recognize our grief as well as acknowledge it, there is still room to both grow and heal.
Newly Bereaved Dad
I just lost my baby girls on July 16th. the were born at 19 weeks. I am not sure how to handle everything. I kinda feel like i have no one to talk to.
How can a grandparent help?
I recently received a posting from a grandparent asking how they can best help their son/daughter with their grief? Grandparents are in a very difficult position as they face their own unique grief while at the same time wanting to support their children.
We have several very good resources at www.APlaceToRemember.com for grandparetns, but I think the best suggestions would come from the parents who have gone through this experience. If you are willing, share what helped and what didn't help that your parents did or did not do. I have no doubt that many people will be touched by your comments and hopefully families will have a better experience because of what you have to say.
Thanks
We have several very good resources at www.APlaceToRemember.com for grandparetns, but I think the best suggestions would come from the parents who have gone through this experience. If you are willing, share what helped and what didn't help that your parents did or did not do. I have no doubt that many people will be touched by your comments and hopefully families will have a better experience because of what you have to say.
Thanks
A different kind of loss...
To get to my age and have both my parents still living is a gift I never took for granted. But it was not until my Dad's death last week that the true impact of my good fortune really hit home. I have spent a good deal of my adulthood talking about the death of my daughter and the loss of my future that event represented to me, but I am now feeling what many others have felt before me -- a sense of losing my past.
I believe it is wrong to compare losses or try to debate which one is "worse," so I won't even go there. Pain is pain, and when you are hurting, it doesn't matter what the cause is, it hurts. It also doesn't matter whether someone has felt a similar pain before you or how many blessings the life that is lost may have brought you. During those moments of grief, it hurts bad.
To be honest, I thought I was somewhat prepared for this loss, and to a degree maybe I was. A parent's death fits more into the scheme of how life evolves so I guess that from that standpoint it was something I knew would likely happen at some point. What I did not anticipate is the emptiness that comes from knowing that someone you have counted on your whole life is no longer a phone call away. My Dad's death came after a brief illness, but we did know the last week of his life that he was dying, so we had some time to bring closure. It was a treasured time that I did everything in my power to avoid, because I did not want to be confronted with having to say goodbye. Now that it's over and I can look back, I know it was the right thing for me to do and I'm glad the decision was not totally left to fate.
Rather than ramble on, I will just say that even after all my talking and preaching about the importance of "being there" and the lessons I tell others Kathleen's death taught me, I still did a lot of the same avoiding I did 25 years ago. I could even get real down on myself for that, but instead I am going to concentrate on the fact that, in the end, I stepped outside my comfort zone and did what I knew I would regret not doing. That feels good, and I have Kathleen to thank.
The lessons just keep on coming............
I believe it is wrong to compare losses or try to debate which one is "worse," so I won't even go there. Pain is pain, and when you are hurting, it doesn't matter what the cause is, it hurts. It also doesn't matter whether someone has felt a similar pain before you or how many blessings the life that is lost may have brought you. During those moments of grief, it hurts bad.
To be honest, I thought I was somewhat prepared for this loss, and to a degree maybe I was. A parent's death fits more into the scheme of how life evolves so I guess that from that standpoint it was something I knew would likely happen at some point. What I did not anticipate is the emptiness that comes from knowing that someone you have counted on your whole life is no longer a phone call away. My Dad's death came after a brief illness, but we did know the last week of his life that he was dying, so we had some time to bring closure. It was a treasured time that I did everything in my power to avoid, because I did not want to be confronted with having to say goodbye. Now that it's over and I can look back, I know it was the right thing for me to do and I'm glad the decision was not totally left to fate.
Rather than ramble on, I will just say that even after all my talking and preaching about the importance of "being there" and the lessons I tell others Kathleen's death taught me, I still did a lot of the same avoiding I did 25 years ago. I could even get real down on myself for that, but instead I am going to concentrate on the fact that, in the end, I stepped outside my comfort zone and did what I knew I would regret not doing. That feels good, and I have Kathleen to thank.
The lessons just keep on coming............
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)