My Grief Project March - The Importance of Friends Old & New

“In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook 

The Importance of Old Friends

Nick and I have been lucky when it comes to our relationships with our friends since Nora died.  From the very beginning our friends have been supportive.  Over 100 people came to her funeral, which was unexpected, since we thought it was going to be a small event.  Since then our close friends have reached out to us, embraced us, and have also given us the room we need when we aren't in the mood for friends.

But some people aren't as lucky. I have read other people's blogs about how their friends just didn't understand why they were grieving the loss of their baby so much.  I have also heard from other 'baby lost' moms about how some of their friendships have changed, and even ended, due to their friend not being able to understand how to relate or connect to them as parents whose child has died.  Going through the loss of my daughter has caused enough pain and grief; I can't imagine the pain that is added on top of that for those who can't find support in their once closest friends.  

However, if you are "prepared to battle the hurricane together" with your grieving friend, as Kristine Brite McCormick, author of Cora's Story (a blog) so elequently puts it, then there are resources availble to you.  One of those resources is Kristine Brite McCormick's downloadable pamphlet When a Friend's Baby Dies, a how-to guide on how to provide support to your grieving friend during this difficult time.  In the pamphlet she discusses what not to say, how to help immediatly after the loss, along with advice about how to interact with your grieving friend, such as remembering to use the child's name, calling her even if they don't answer, and not judging her grief process.

What I have found most helpful and supportive from my friends, is that they have been willing to provide support in the form of actually letting me talk about Nora at times and at other times distracting me by providing something to do or not talking about my grief at all.  One of the greatest gifts my friends have been able to give me is not treating me any different then before.  Personally, I didn't want people to feel sorry for me.  I wanted my friends to remember that I was still me--Lindsey--but at the same time understand that parts of me had changed.  This is a difficult task to ask of a friend who doesn't walk the road of grief after child loss, but my friends have navigated this terrain well. 

The Importance of New Friends

Even though our old friends have been extermely supportive, there is still something comforting in talking to other parents who have experienced child loss.  Research states that often times bereaved parents find that their friends and family can't always comprehend, relate, or understand the pain they are going through, and I must say to my old friends that it's okay that they don't understand because we don't want them to have to.  Since family and friends can't always meet these support needs it is natural and important to make new friends during your journey through grief after child loss.

Nick and I have made some new friends and relationships through our time at Faith's Lodge and other supportive connections and networks that have linked us with grieving parents like ourselves.  I find that with these new relationships there comes a sense of relief in connecting over our shared experiences.  It's nice to have others in our lives that we can go out to dinner with, where we talk about every day topics, and then in the next sentence talk about our dead child, and then go back and talk about the weather with knowing that our new friend doesn't see this string of conversation as morbid or awkward.

The importance of these new relationships have been researched and studied by Dr. Joanne Cacciatore and Laura Umphrey in Coping with the Ultimate Deprivation: Narrative Themes in a Parental Bereavement Support Group.  Cacciatore and Umphrey note that relationships with other parents who have experienced child loss assists each couple in processing their own grief around the death of their child.  It makes each parent feel understood and provides relief in knowing that what they are experiencing is "normal."   Ultimatly, these new friendships help grieving parents, like myself, find "comfort in the similarities" as Elizabeth A. Catlin writes in her 14-year research on Bereavement Support for Couples Following the Death of a Baby.

So, on this journey through grief after child loss, it is an important task of the grieving parent to renavigate old friendships as well as establishing new ones.  Through connections and realtionships, old and new, we will learn how to function again in a world with one less child.  Though these relationships and connections will not replace the loss of our loved one, they can provide us with comfort and a different kind of love.

If you want to know what to do to be a support to your friend whose baby has died, there are a few resources listed below.  The big point to remember is that EVERYONE GRIEVES DIFFERENTLY, the resources below are suggestions from bereaved parents of what worked best for them or what they would have liked their friends to know, but remember EVERYONE GRIEVES DIFFERENTLY, so sometimes the best thing to do is to have open communication with your friend and ask what they need.

Resources

When A Friend's Baby Dies  by Kristine Brite McCormick

10 Ways to Support the Person in Your Life That Just Lost a Baby  by Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope
What Do I Say? Expert Advice on Helping Friends and Families Cope with Baby Loss.  by Belinda Miller @ Healing Hearts.

Some Things to Say & Do/Somethings Not To Say  by Healing Hearts

For Family & Friends by Share: Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support, Inc.

The Brave One

My cousin Nate, who I always loved like the little brother I never had, told us that he and his wife were pregnant when I was five or six months along with Nora.  After her death, they both drove over 250 miles to attend her funeral.  I was in awe of my cousin's wife's courage and strength to attend a baby's funeral while six months pregnant herself. I wrote this piece for her.  For her realizing that pregnancy and child loss is not contagious, where other pregnant women I encounter seem to think it is.

Thank you, Christina, for being the brave one.

The Brave One

She is the brave one.

Sitting there, watching me with her worried eyes.

She is scared, oh how she is scared. For she fears my fate will become hers.

But, She is the brave one.

I greet and thank people for coming to my daughter’s funeral.

My daughter I never knew outside of the womb, lost before her birth, born sleeping.

But, She is the brave one.

She sits there, six months swollen with what was once hope and joy in her loins.

She sits there, in this moment of acknowledging death, with terror in her stomach, realizing now that pregnancy is not a promise.

But, She is the brave one.

I go through the reception, in a haze as I say goodbye to our guests, and I can feel her eyes upon me.

I walk by her, envious of her future, but in awe of her strength.

But, She is the brave one.

My eyes meet hers across the crowed reception hall.

Hers say I can't imagine your loss, and mine say I hope you never have too.

But, She is the brave one.

She walks up to me, approaches me.

She does not ignore me, as I will soon find other pregnant women, who know, do.

But, She is the brave one.

I stare at her as she approaches, fearful of her words, but none are spoken.

She opens her arms, embracing me with her blossoming stomach touching my now deflated one.

But, She is the brave one.

She holds me and cries.  She cries for me, my sorrow, for my daughter.

I cry.  I cry for her, her fear, and her son growing inside her.

But, She is the brave one.

We hold each other a little longer.  I lock eyes with her husband who is standing in my view.

I nod in his direction, sending a prayer his way.

But, She is the brave one.

She releases me from her arms.  I am thankful.

She is courageous, strong, and validates my loss even in her time of joy.

But, She is the brave one.

I admire her courage.  I hope for her that her son will have a safe journey into this world.

And before she walks away, she whispers in my ear, “You are the brave one.”

I reply, “I am the brave one.”

It's Not Contagious...

The day before I went on maternity leave from work I found out a co-worker, who has her office down the hall from me, was pregnant.  She had just started showing and as I walked by her office she politely offered to me a massage chair support cushion her husband had bought her to feel more comfortable at work.  She said, "I don't need it yet," with an energetic and proud smile upon her face.  I replied with, "Thank you, but I don't plan on being pregnant much longer," as my induction date was only four days away.  As we parted ways she wished me luck with the delivery.

Since returning to work, six weeks later and working for over 3 weeks now, this woman has avoided me like the plague.  I walk by her office often.  I have noticed she is larger now, closer to full term and her impending due date.  I know that she notices me, because whenever I walk by she stares straight ahead, dodging my gaze in an effort to avoid me and the possibility I remind her of.  The reality that pregnancy is not a promise and life does giveth and taketh away at its own choosing.

I do not know this woman well, before Nora's death she was always kind to me, smiling when she saw me, nodding in my direction with a sign of recognition that we coexist, but that doesn't even happen anymore.  This bothered me.  I was angered by this.  I did not wish any ill fortune on this woman, I would never wish my tragedy onto another, the pain is too great. I also understand that maybe she felt embarrassed as if she was a reminder to me of what I could no longer have. But, either way, could she not just be decent and come up to me and say, "I am sorry for your loss," or better yet the truth which is, "I am scared to look at you, let alone talk to you, in fear that I will catch whatever killed your baby, be it an illness, disease, or just your bad karma and bad luck."  At least that would be honest.

So, after working and walking by her office for three weeks I made the first move.  Our paths crossed one afternoon as she was heading to her car and I getting ready to leave.  I approached her and said with a smile, "When are you due?"  She was taken aback and startled at what seemed to be my voice or even the tone of excitement and friendliness I used to let her know I wished no harm to her and her baby, as if she thought maybe I am now a powerful, vengeful witch whose voice alone can curse your baby-luck.          

She caught her breath, looked at me, trying to manage a smile and said, "Six weeks."  I smiled back, and said, "Well, you look great.  Good Luck!"  The conversation from a few months ago reversed now, except my face was not filled with innocent hope as hers was during the exchange weeks before.  The words, "Good luck," coming from my mouth take on a different meaning, a different promise, a larger hope.  I meant it when I said, "Good luck." I meant it in its deepest form.

This co-worker still avoids me.  Not sure why.  Hopefully, after her child is successfully brought into this world and she returns to work we can be more at ease with each other again, and she will realize that pregnancy and child loss is not contagious.  It's not a disease. And that even though, as bereaved parents we have lost children of our own, that we do not wish this pain on you and yours.  Actually, it is the exact opposite.  I hope for you only blessings and joy with your child and your future.  Yes, it hurts me to see you in such joy and remember when I had that innocence, when I was in your shoes, but I am glad that not everyone has to lose that joy or innocence, because I hope someday that little pieces of it will find their way back to me. 

If you are pregnant, and hear of, or know of someone in your life who has experiences this, even just a friend of a friend, when you see them, do not shy away from them, please.  Treat them as you did before, acknowledge them, and if they need space from you and the joy you exude from your pregnancy, they will let you know with their actions or words.  Don't take this personally if they choose to avoid you but please be strong enough to acknowledge them and their deceased child, they probably will appreciate it.  And remember, it's not contagious.    

Still Breathing...Lindsey

The Selfishness of Grief

Selfish.  Self-centered.  All consuming.  That is how my grief feels at times.  I know that in order to grieve, sometimes you do need to put yourself and your needs first.  I have read advice around pregnancy and child loss where experts, or mom's who have been their say, "It's okay to not go to your friend's baby shower, or your co-worker's child's first birthday party.  And it's fine if you stay in your pajamas all day one weekend and politely turn down your friends request to help you get out of the house."  This is about putting your grief first in an effort to heal.

Lately, however, I have felt that my grief has been selfish.  Let me explain.  I have been throwing myself into my grief that I talk about it to the ones I'm closest with ALL THE TIME.  I was out this past Saturday with my best friend from high school, Staci, and I did not shut up.  I was talking fast and with intent.  I shared with her why I was excited about My Grief Project and my grief, because it let me still connect with my daughter, and I talked insistently about why my grief aches and how I long to hold her in my arms.  My friend is amazing and let me talk, and talk, and talk, but things are going well in her life, really well, and I am happy for her, but I didn't let her talk about this as much as I normally would and I feel selfish about this looking back on it.

I have also been occupying A LOT of my sister and her husband's time to help me with this blog.  Kristi and Zach are amazing editors and know the social media world, so they have been teaching me.  But I have been abusing my role as a sister (which, to be honest, I always have) and taking advantage of their time to focus on my grief.  I don't cry on the phone with my sister, though I have done that, but I call with manic excitement about wanting to write, reach out to others through my blog, and figure out the social media world with her and Zach's help.   I know this has taken time away from her spending it with Zach and I feel self-centered for this.

But this did not all dawn on me until I was sitting on the couch last Friday night with my sister, all excited about our new ideas for the blog and other projects.  Pumped up that my grief and pain could help others and there could be a small purpose to this whole mess, when my sister, while looking at the cover photo of Nick holding Nora's feet on this blog said, "She has your toes."  Nick was leaning in to give me a good night kiss when Kristi said this, and him being so close, I could see the sadness fill his face.  In that moment I realized I had been focusing all on me and my pain, channeling it into something productive, that I had forgotten about my husband's.  At this thought, my heart dropped and it was as if tears ran through my body on the inside.  I don't want to be that person, overly focused on my own sorrow and journey that I do not notice that of the ones around me, the ones I love and need most, especially the father of my child and the man who, as one of my followers wrote of her husband 'is my safe place.'  Nick is this for me.   

So, to those that support me, love me, and are my rocks, thank you for letting me be selfish with my grief.  I obviously need to do this, but I want you to know that your grief matters to me too.  You lost someone as well.  I appreciate your love and support and I hope in the future you will let me know when you need your feelings heard and validated if I have overwhelmed you with mine.  I can do that.  After all, it's my job as a therapist, and it's nice that all of you understand this since it is my usual role, that you let me take on a different one in my relationship with all of you.  Thank you.