Garbage. Garbage. Garbage. I’m cleaning files at my office, and tossing out files from fifteen years ago. It was getting late, and I was grabbing one more pile of papers to toss into the garbage, when I stopped — frozen. I looked. I stared. As I began to read the words my tears began. Tears poured from my eyes. I began to choke on my sobs. There it was. My son’s obituary from a year ago.
Since my son Mike died, I’ve lost my car keys at least a hundred times! Slumping down and bursting into tears I decided to call it a day at 5:30 p.m. I was exhausted. I couldn’t think straight. I was frustrated because I lost my keys again only to find them sitting on a box in my garage. My life is messy because I seem to have lost the ability to organize even something as simple as what I should wear to work in the morning.
When child loss occurs, there is often chaos within the family unit. Nobody knows what to do or say. Everybody knows that each person is suffering. But, no words are spoken. Why? How do you even begin to communicate within a family when everybody is in shock and grief? This radical miscommunication often leads to the breakdown of a family and that’s just what we want to guard against. “As we know, the death of a child doesn’t just affect the heart of a mother.” — This is a direct quote from the book Child Loss; The Heartbreak and the Hope.
If you’ve lost a child, there has come a moment when you’ve cried out in despair, “I can’t do this! I can’t do this thing called child loss. I want my child back. I want life to go back to how it was when everything seemed okay.” In chapter 4 of the book Child Loss – The Heartbreak and the Hope this feeling of despair is discussed in great detail. This is when the numb part of our loss begins to wear off and we begin feeling the raw pain of brokenness. This is when we want to scream out saying, “This can’t be true! This didn’t happen to my…
If you’re like me, one of the most difficult things for me to hear is how quickly life has gone on for others following the loss of my son. I want to know others are feeling some of my loss. I need to know that others still remember my son. I want so desperately to know that others still think of him. And, yet the fact is that life has gone on very quickly for most.
Any way you look at child loss it ends up being the same. It hurts like nothing else in the entire world. We get to the point of where we think we just cannot go on any longer because we miss our child so bad. Others try to help us. They try to do everything in their power to take away our pain, but really there’s nothing that anyone else can do to “fix” this hurt. Child loss is the “unfixable” loss.
Following the loss of a child, we become familiar with the term “new normal.” We read it in books, and we hear the term in grief classes we attend, from our Pastor, and many times we hear the words “new normal” from our doctor. When I became a bereaved mom, the words “new normal” were words I held onto tightly. Why? Because any kind of normal following the loss of a child would feel good! When child loss take place, there is nothing — absolutely nothing — that feels normal anymore!
If you have suffered the loss of a child, then you know that men and women grieve very differently. This difference between the way we grieve has caused much additional pain to a couple already feeling alone, lost, and often without hope. So many times, a woman will shout out in despair to the father of her child saying, “You don’t care about this loss! You don’t show any emotions at all. I need you to hold me, to cry with me, and to tell me how much you miss our child!” The father remains silent with a puzzled look on his face.
How are we going to do it? How will we get through this holiday called Christmas when child loss has occurred? Our hearts are broken. We feel so desolate and alone. We don’t have the energy to face the day, and yet……….we know we want to do something other than cry the entire day. We feel a special need to do something to bring our child back into this holiday. But, how? How do we do this?
Child loss is traumatic. I will always remember the phone call I received saying, “They tried. They tried for over an hour, but they couldn’t save him.” I was in bed at the time I received that life-changing call, and I can remember letting out moans that didn’t sound human. I’ve tried to hide that moment in the recesses of my mind, but I can’t. That’s just how trauma works. Every time the phone rings in the evening, I jump. My body tenses, and I begin screaming out, “Please, God! Please don’t let this happen again!”