Sometimes it's the small things that count
In the last couple of days, this blog has seen new posts from fathers who have pointed to either another person's comment or a poem that has helped them feel not so alone. When you express your feelings -- whether it be as a comment or in the form of poetry -- your words undoubtedly not only help relieve some of your own stress, but touch others you will never know about. Thank you to all who have done that here and I hope you will share with others what has helped you most in making it through your grief.
"It just takes time...."
I was on the Compassionate Friends Facebook page and noticed that someone had posted a question/comment about "time healing all wounds." The reaction from other parents was pretty strong, and quite universal in expressing that time indeed does NOT heal all wounds. I would agree, but I must admit that I will sometimes say to newly bereaved parents that, in time and with hard work, things will likely start to look different for them and that some of the sadness and pain will give way to more positive memories. Does that mean I am suggesting that all their wounds will be healed and they will no longer hurt? It certainly is not what I am trying to say, although I'm guessing some people might interpret it that way.
For me, the question really comes down to, what is healing vs. accepting the new reality? Acceptance, in my book, does not necessarily mean healing, but rather coming to a point where a bereaved person realizes that no amount of sadness, anger, or hopelessness is going to make things different and the process of grieving allows them to start moving forward again.
In other words, it is not TIME itself that helps, but rather what you DO WITH THE TIME. If you curl up in a ball, pull the shades, and let your sadness take over, no days, weeks, or months off the calendar are going help make you feel better. But if you use that grieving time to reflect and express your sadness and anger in a healthy way so the pressure does not become unbearable, life can become worth living again.
Believe me, it is not that I don't understand that sometimes the sadness is so overwhelming it seems completely impossible to ever think of being happy again. But, I also don't believe that we are dishonoring our children and the love we feel for them by allowing ourselves to smile, be happy, and feel hope.
How do you feel about this? What have you done to find some peace -- or haven't you?
For me, the question really comes down to, what is healing vs. accepting the new reality? Acceptance, in my book, does not necessarily mean healing, but rather coming to a point where a bereaved person realizes that no amount of sadness, anger, or hopelessness is going to make things different and the process of grieving allows them to start moving forward again.
In other words, it is not TIME itself that helps, but rather what you DO WITH THE TIME. If you curl up in a ball, pull the shades, and let your sadness take over, no days, weeks, or months off the calendar are going help make you feel better. But if you use that grieving time to reflect and express your sadness and anger in a healthy way so the pressure does not become unbearable, life can become worth living again.
Believe me, it is not that I don't understand that sometimes the sadness is so overwhelming it seems completely impossible to ever think of being happy again. But, I also don't believe that we are dishonoring our children and the love we feel for them by allowing ourselves to smile, be happy, and feel hope.
How do you feel about this? What have you done to find some peace -- or haven't you?
The subsequent child
I have previously written about the subsequent pregnancy my wife and I experienced after Kathleen died. For me, it was a very stressful 9 months filled with building protective walls in order to prevent myself from being hurt if something bad happened again. For Monica, it was a time that she let herself cherish because she had lost her innocense and understood it was possible that those months inutero were the only ones she might have with our baby.
In both cases, we were greatly influenced by our previous loss -- even though how we dealt with it was very different.
After our son was born, ironically, I was better able to let go of my stress and relax a little, while Monica got more nervous that something might happen to him during infancy. I think she was a little more protective than she might have been and her bond with him was very strong.
I would be curious to hear how others felt about that experience and how you think your loss has impacted the relationship with your subsquent child both short and long term. I have had some parents tell me that they had a more difficult time bonding with the subsequent baby because they still felt such tremendous pain for their child that died. Others have shared that they cherished all their children so much more because they realized how fragile life can be.
Any thoughts?
In both cases, we were greatly influenced by our previous loss -- even though how we dealt with it was very different.
After our son was born, ironically, I was better able to let go of my stress and relax a little, while Monica got more nervous that something might happen to him during infancy. I think she was a little more protective than she might have been and her bond with him was very strong.
I would be curious to hear how others felt about that experience and how you think your loss has impacted the relationship with your subsquent child both short and long term. I have had some parents tell me that they had a more difficult time bonding with the subsequent baby because they still felt such tremendous pain for their child that died. Others have shared that they cherished all their children so much more because they realized how fragile life can be.
Any thoughts?
Easier to share information
This is nothing revolutionary (except if you're old like me), but note that at the end of postings on the blog, there are icons for email, Facebook, Twitter, etc. If you find a comment or posting you want to share with others, just click on the icon and pass it on in whatever "newfangled" way you have of communicating with your friends.
Are You A "Mr. Fix-it?"
For a lot of men (me not included) being able to fix things around the house is an important achievement. Not only does it save money, it also provides a sense of control and accomplishment. While I am far from a handy kind of guy, I must admit that on those rare occasions when I actually do fix something, I'm pretty proud of myself.
Even though I might not be the typical Mr. Fix-it, I definitely took on that role when Kathleen died. Whenever my wife, Monica, opened up to me about her sadness, I felt compelled to provide her with solutions for her sadness. It was not until much later that I learned she was not looking to be fixed -- she just wanted me to listen.
Do any of you find yourselves trying to fix your partner's sadness? Do any of you feel like your partner is trying to fix you? Have you been able to deal effectively with the issue, or is it still a source of tension?
Even though I might not be the typical Mr. Fix-it, I definitely took on that role when Kathleen died. Whenever my wife, Monica, opened up to me about her sadness, I felt compelled to provide her with solutions for her sadness. It was not until much later that I learned she was not looking to be fixed -- she just wanted me to listen.
Do any of you find yourselves trying to fix your partner's sadness? Do any of you feel like your partner is trying to fix you? Have you been able to deal effectively with the issue, or is it still a source of tension?
A poem for fathers
I was asked by a dad to share this poem he came across. If anyone knows the author, please let me know so I can give them credit.
It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test,
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew.
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby too.
Eileen Knight Hagemeister
It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test,
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew.
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby too.
Eileen Knight Hagemeister
The gift of forgiveness
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.
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.
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