Mothering While Grieving

If you’re a mother to a living child(ren), you already know being a mother is no walk in the park, and if you reading this as a support person or mom in waiting (praying or pregnant), I’m sure you’ve heard a mom say that before. I had no idea what I was getting myself into at 21, but I know for sure I thought majority of the journey would be filled with laughter, matching outfits, extracurricular activities, vacations, etc. I soon learned those experiences are moments that take place throughout a very challenging journey. Sleep becomes a thing of the past, blowouts, tantrums, screaming, tears, urgent care visits traumatize you because of wait times, cooties spread like wildfire, matching outfits get destroyed the moment you leave the house, vacations can feel like work when traveling with multiple kids, etc. Nevertheless, those tough moments are nothing in comparison to grieving and healing while being a mother.

The day my son passed was traumatic in so many ways. I remember letting out a horrific scream with tears that followed. I whaled at the sight of him because I still had an inkling of hope that he’d live. My children and mother ran to the bathroom and knocked on the door. I muffled my cry to reassure them I was okay so they’d walk away and allow my mother to come in and help me. I sobbed in the bathroom while I went back and forth whether I would flush him down the toilet or toss him in the trash. I did neither of those and spent enough time in the bathroom to gather myself so my children would leave me alone when I walked to my room.

I was in so much pain mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I felt empty physically and emotionally. I was embarrassed, ashamed, confused, in disbelief, and traumatized. But I had to continue mothering my living children while going through all of this. Truth of the matter is I couldn’t the first week. I couldn’t mother my children initially. I couldn’t smile, laugh, or talk. I couldn’t fake or hide my pain. I told them “Mommy isn’t feeling well, my stomach is hurting really bad.” I’d literally took my husband back to work two days before our loss happened. As he was making his way back to our side of the country, my mother took care of my daughters and I. I didn’t realize until I began writing this… both my mother and I were mothering while grieving.

My mother was grieving watching me go through a pain she’d never seen me experience or experience herself. She was also traumatized and in pain from witnessing and experiencing the loss of her grandchild. As I write this, my heart truly breaks for her. She was my strength while I waited for my husband. She continued to work her full-time government job at the peak of the pandemic, cooked, cleaned, and kept my girls occupied. She would keep them away as long as she could, and then they’d all come in the room to eat and watch TV with me for a little. She mothered me in a way that I can’t even put my gratitude in words. Thank you Mommy.

When my stomach no longer hurt, but the mental and emotional pain remained, I told them, “Mommy is really sad and will be for a long time so please be patient with me. I’ll tell you why when I’m able to.” It was the start of my journey in mothering my living children and my precious child in heaven. Nothing can prepare you for such a time. Attending therapy on a computer sobbing next door to your children screaming because of a pandemic is exhausting. Pausing your tears for your deceased child to cater to your 2 year old is soul crushing. So much to talk about in future posts…

Dear TJ,

I was never embarrassed or ashamed of you. I was embarrassed because I felt like I failed you. I had given life to your sisters but not you. I was ashamed because I couldn’t understand why my body didn’t do what it was supposed to do. But I’m much better baby. You and I did EXACTLY what we were supposed to do.

Love,

Mommy…

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Your Grief Is Not Mine

One of the biggest roadblocks I’ve had throughout my grief journey is feeling like my grief was “too much” or “unwarranted.” I’ve seen the baby loss community be silenced so many times on social media when users felt the grieving mother was oversharing. I’ve read how so many women felt trapped in their thoughts and feelings because the topic of miscarriage and pregnancy loss was taboo in their communities. In my personal experience, I’ve seen how some of the faces of people I’ve shared with turned flushed the moment I spoke about my loss and who my angel baby is. Can we blame them though? Hearing such a sad story about a painful experience someone has had will never feel good. I’ve also found myself comparing my grief to other women who’ve experienced a miscarriage and/or pregnancy loss. In the process I find myself shrinking my baby and experience because I’ve convinced myself that I made a big deal out of nothing. “I didn’t make it full term, so why cry a year later?” “This other woman suffered a miscarriage as well and appears to have moved on, you need to do the same.”

What I’ve learned through therapy (and what I keep telling myself) is that grief should not be compared. I’ve told myself several times that is a simple concept that should be understood, but my mind forgets it when I allow insecurity to set in. My husband made an excellent point one day I was feeling a little down. “Would you expect a person who lost their father when they were two months old not to grieve their deceased father just because they didn’t lose them at 35 years old?” Do you have to have someone in your life long in order for you to feel the pain of losing them? That’s not fair. He said, “It’s not fair to put that sort of restriction on yourself.”

The fact of the matter is that all of our grief is different. We’ve all lost our babies in different ways, and we are all different people. The grieving experience may be similar, but definitely won’t be the same. Family members will grieve loved ones differently, and strangers will grieve their deceased babies differently. Some women will not be deeply saddened by losing their babies, and that is OKAY. It shouldn’t be frowned upon. Some women will grieve their angel babies for the rest of their lives, and that’s okay too. Your grief is your grief, and the important thing is to make sure that you’re healthy mentally, physically, and emotionally. Grief is an ongoing cycle and has no destination. Grieving doesn’t mean being in a deep depression the entire time, but you may feel it from time to time depending on the season.

It’s so important to give yourself grace and to take it one second at a time.

Dear TJ,

The sun has been shining bright, and you have been shining bright in the night skies. These have been some of my better days, and I’m so grateful. I love you baby!

Love,

Mommy…

My Baby Was and Still Is A Big Deal

Many people fail to realize that when you experience the loss of a baby, life doesn’t continue the same. When parents (I don’t want to exclude partners who grieve with the mom) lose a baby, everyone else moves forward with their lives. The family who was expecting to grow by another heartbeat is grappling trying to figure out how to go on. It amazes and disappoints me how many women receive unsolicited advice to encourage them to move forward with life, get over it, try again, or hit you with “at least…” statements. You try so hard not to hurt that person’s feelings because they’re only trying to “help”, meanwhile it’s crushing your soul listening to them minimize the life you just lost. The life that was just inside you seems unimportant. You find yourself wondering if you’re being dramatic because your pregnancy was still early. You’ve had your rainbow baby now, so you should be ok. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is babies are a big deal and losing them in any fashion is life-shattering.

Experiencing a pregnancy loss is not just an emotional loss. The physical pain a woman goes through when losing her child is so intense. A miscarriage is not just a period. A stillbirth is not something you just snap back from. The physical experience during and after a loss is a reminder of the very beautiful life that was in you is now gone. Some women labor. Some women’s water break. Some women push. Some women birth vaginally or through surgery. Emotionally you’re a wreck, and mentally you’re not even hanging on by a thread. You’re simply there. 

No one prepares you for the loss of your baby/babies. No one tells you that you’ll have to decide on whether you will toss your deceased baby in the trash or flush them down the toilet after they’ve finally passed. No one tells you about the contractions during and after. No one tells you about having to make funeral/burial arrangements for your baby instead of scheduling their first pediatric visit. No one tells you about how the only time you’ll get to spend with your baby outside of your womb is holding their lifeless body. No one tells you how after you lose your baby, you have to clean yourself up and walk out of the bathroom to be a parent to your living children. No one tells you about the surgery you have to get to remove everything that existed with your pregnancy. I think it’s safe to say that baby was and is a big deal considering how life-changing losing them was. But “at least you already have children”, right? “At least you know you can get pregnant.” “I’m sure you’ll be ok the next time you’re pregnant.” “You’re pregnant now, you have to let the past go.” “I don’t count that baby, just the ones I can see.” “It’s been so many years, and you’ve had other children since then.”

If you’ve lost your baby/babies. Your baby was and is still a big deal. Your baby was and is important. You’re not being dramatic. You don’t need to nor have to get over it. Take it one second at a time. 

If you know someone who has experienced the loss of a baby. It makes a huge difference when you call their baby by name and acknowledge their existence.

Dear TJ,

You are so loved and missed. I am never ok around this time, but I’m trying to be.

Love,

Mommy…