Monday, September 3, 2012
Should I Be Angry with God? Part 2
The last few months since Mia's death have felt a lot like living underwater. I am so thankful that I have had increasingly more joyful moments and that I feel like I might just be getting more of a handle on daily life. There were dark days when I thought I would never be happy again. Thankfully, this past weekend has helped me realize that there is a very good life waiting for me(more on this weekend later).
It hasn't been three months since Mia died but it feels like it has been decades. Immediately after her death, I was shocked at how much extra time I had in my day. Don't worry, the boys and my commitments have thoroughly filled up my spare time. Also, since losing my Mia-girl I mostly feel exhausted. Feeling sad so deeply and so pervasively is draining. I have cut a lot of striving for perfection out of my life. I have gotten better at asking for help. I met a mother of two boys who has also lost her daughter- she said that grieving the loss of her daughter has been much more work than caring for three children ever was. I agree, and that exhaustion can be so frustrating.
I have learned that I can try to escape from the reality of Mia's death for a short time if I distract myself with an activity or with other people. Inevitably, these times of being distracted- trying to go on like nothing happened- have been followed by feeling sick and anxiety-ridden. Grief builds up inside like steam in a pressure cooker. When the weight of my loss settles back in, it tends to render me immobilized. It is unpredictable and it is overwhelmingly painful. I am incapable of stuffing my grief.
Since I can't escape grieving Mia, I am trying to be as honest as possible about my sadness. Honest with myself. Honest with God. And honest with others(writing is a very healthy vent for my grief). I am constantly asking myself if I am doing this right. Because grief feels a lot like riding waves- very unpredictable, I am trying to be as healthy as possible. Facing the sadness helps calm the vicious ups-and-downs a bit. I now welcome tears- they heal my heart. Tears bring relief from mounting darkness that looms over me. After the tears, my soul feels lighter. Honesty about this sadness also brings relief from the overwhelming waves of grief that threaten to sweep over me when I least expect them.
I'm a reader. I have a stack of books in my bedside dresser that I pull out every day. I have been fortunate to talk to other people who have lost a child. I have heard from some that I should vent my full anger at God, because He can take it. When I heard this, I worried that I might be glossing over my true emotions. It left me feeling disingenuous. Others have told me to be honest with God if I am angry but have not encouraged me to be angry with Him. These conflicting pieces of advice leave me wondering: Should I be more angry at God? Am I covering over my true feelings if I'm not very angry at Him? Am I really being honest with myself when I say: "I am not angry at God"?
Well, I am not angry with Him.
Well, I am not angry with Him.
Oh, I have had two momentary times that were probably angry. First, in the first few weeks I tried to make it to the grocery store for days. I couldn't make it because I couldn't stop crying. One day I drove halfway there and stopped next to a field that was being harvested. I didn't care if the farmers could see me crying hysterically. I was sobbing and asking, "Why did this have to be MY daughter, God? Everyone else gets to keep their babies- why did my daughter die?!" Instantly I felt guilty and wondered, "Am I saying that I want other people's children to also die?"
God answered me by whispering to me words that said something like, "Why are any of us able to live? None of you deserve to live. You all deserve to die. Your sin was great. It's only by my grace that any of you are alive." Oh, how comfortable I was with my life before. I never seriously considered mortality. Nevermind that I think far too little of my sins that have been forgiven by Christ's suffering. I think I actually had felt like I deserved a beautiful family because I was pretty good.
After awhile, Derrick noticed that I was gone too long and called me. When I told him, "I can't go to the store if I can't stop crying," he told me to come home. As he walked me into our home, I threw the things in my hands as hard as I could at the floor, and finally the tears really brought relief.
God answered me by whispering to me words that said something like, "Why are any of us able to live? None of you deserve to live. You all deserve to die. Your sin was great. It's only by my grace that any of you are alive." Oh, how comfortable I was with my life before. I never seriously considered mortality. Nevermind that I think far too little of my sins that have been forgiven by Christ's suffering. I think I actually had felt like I deserved a beautiful family because I was pretty good.
After awhile, Derrick noticed that I was gone too long and called me. When I told him, "I can't go to the store if I can't stop crying," he told me to come home. As he walked me into our home, I threw the things in my hands as hard as I could at the floor, and finally the tears really brought relief.
A few days later despair threatened to overtake me. I stood in the shower and asked God, "Why is this MY life? I didn't choose this and would really like to do this over." People had told me that God must have chosen me for a very special purpose. At that time, I didn't want the appointment and I wanted to let Him know that. That's when I vaguely remembered a quote by C.S. Lewis which says that if we do not find satisfaction in this world, it is evidence that we were meant for another world. In that deep dissatisfaction, I longed for eternity with my Savior. In Nancy Guthrie's book "Hearing Jesus Speak Into Your Sorrow", she says that God cares more about your soul than about your comfort.
Since Mia died, God has become my great reward. He has given me more of Himself, because I have so desperately needed Him. He has been shouting in my pain(also from a C.S. Lewis quote). He has felt as close as the willow branches swaying around me or as real as the gentle breeze . Thankfully in the traumatic time after first finding Mia, he was like a master surgeon directing my hands from over my shoulder. As I have come to the Bible with such deep need, every thought has seemed to be meant exactly for me. Every verse sent by a friend has come straight from the Lover of My Soul.
He has spoken through His Word, His children, and even His creation. This past weekend, I was praying with some dear new friends at the Guthrie's Respite Retreat in Tennessee. We were standing at the railing of the second-story deck. The deciduous trees swayed in the wind with a peaceful river glimmering behind them. Each bright green leaf sparkled from recent rain. I asked the Lord for His strength and for grace. As I was still before this lively masterpiece, a hummingbird darted to within inches of my face. Its wings whirred rapidly as it stared into my eyes. I have stopped seeing things like this as coincidences.
There have been two brief times I have felt such deep sadness that it turned to frustration and anger. There is Someone who makes me want to shout from every summit. God's nearness and faithfulness has erased any hint of fear or doubt in my mind. It has taken time. When my faith wavered and stumbled, He did not. This has been the gift of losing my little darling, my daughter. During each long day, He has been sufficient for me.
Since Mia died, God has become my great reward. He has given me more of Himself, because I have so desperately needed Him. He has been shouting in my pain(also from a C.S. Lewis quote). He has felt as close as the willow branches swaying around me or as real as the gentle breeze . Thankfully in the traumatic time after first finding Mia, he was like a master surgeon directing my hands from over my shoulder. As I have come to the Bible with such deep need, every thought has seemed to be meant exactly for me. Every verse sent by a friend has come straight from the Lover of My Soul.
He has spoken through His Word, His children, and even His creation. This past weekend, I was praying with some dear new friends at the Guthrie's Respite Retreat in Tennessee. We were standing at the railing of the second-story deck. The deciduous trees swayed in the wind with a peaceful river glimmering behind them. Each bright green leaf sparkled from recent rain. I asked the Lord for His strength and for grace. As I was still before this lively masterpiece, a hummingbird darted to within inches of my face. Its wings whirred rapidly as it stared into my eyes. I have stopped seeing things like this as coincidences.
There have been two brief times I have felt such deep sadness that it turned to frustration and anger. There is Someone who makes me want to shout from every summit. God's nearness and faithfulness has erased any hint of fear or doubt in my mind. It has taken time. When my faith wavered and stumbled, He did not. This has been the gift of losing my little darling, my daughter. During each long day, He has been sufficient for me.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Should I Be Angry With God? Part 1
As we were preparing to leave the hospital the day that Mia died, we were shell-shocked. I felt like I had already melted through the earth- it felt like my body was packing up our stuff robotically without me in it. We had already met with a few people who coached us through bereavement issues immediately after she passed away. I went to the nurses' desk in the Pediatric ICU and asked, "We are planning to leave soon. Is there something we need to do before we leave?" The nurse shook her head. "Do I need to sign something?" Again, she shook her head with a strange look on her face. "Do I need to let someone know when that we're leaving?"
Finally, she said, "No, you can just go."
My heart broke. We didn't have a baby to take home. Her carrier seat was sitting ready in our minivan to take her home, but we left her at the hospital. The coroner then funeral director would take her from there. She would never again be mine to hold. Just a few joyful months before on the day after Easter, we had dressed her in a pale pink newborn outfit with a white kitten on her bum. Underneath her outfit was a onesie that read "Daddy's Little Princess". Our biggest worry was how to get our perfectly healthy baby girl home without getting in an accident. Now it felt so wrong to be leaving the children's hospital without our beautiful girl. It had been about 30 hours since I had found her not breathing. Her chubby arms and smooth skin showed the thousands of hours I had cared for her.
Our whole life had changed so quickly; the future felt impossible. As I walked the path of hallways to get back to the front entrance, I looked at the people around me. Did they know? Could they tell that my world had just shattered? Were they worried about their child's broken leg or were they also losing their child?
We walked out of the front doors to go to our car. My entire body tingled with anxiety: How could I go back home? How in the world would I go on living? It felt like I would have to learn how to walk again. Breath again. Everything looked new- the sky looked huge, each individual hair sensed the breeze. I remember looking up and crying out to God with a painful lump in my throat, "Oh, my daughter, my daughter. How can I live, Lord?"
My feet moved mechanically over the lines on the asphalt, and I was immediately reminded(I'm paraphrasing): "I lost my Son. I know what it feels like to lose a child, dear Ruth. I know how it hurts. My Son suffered untold agony for people who did not deserve Him. Mia didn't suffer. I was there with her." I felt like curling up in His arms right there in the parking lot. As I have many times since she died, I longed to be in God's presence so much I felt it in every fiber of my body. He knows what I feel like! I could feel Him right there with me. Oh, how that longing to be in God's presence has made the rest of my life feel like an eternity.
A few moments later another important realization dawned on me. It may sound too theological for hurting parents, but it was a needed reality check for me: We all deserve eternal death for our sins. A perfect God created us, yet we broke our tie with Him by choosing our own way. We deserve to be destroyed. It's only because Jesus died for us that Mia can now be in Heaven in God's presence. One day, the longing I have to with God will be fulfilled!
Derrick and I managed to climb into our vehicle and drive home. It felt like it took forever. I read some of the bereavement literature and the advice for bereaved nursing moms. There was road work being done. Cars passed us on their way to who-knows-where. Everything moved around me like a dream. I knew I needed to see my sons and tell them what had happened to their beloved baby sister. I had a strong convinction that I needed to limit the trauma for them. We had been counseled that they needed to know that we would be alright. They needed some semblance of normal family life. If not for them, I would have wanted to stay with Mia forever.
(To be continued...)
Finally, she said, "No, you can just go."
My heart broke. We didn't have a baby to take home. Her carrier seat was sitting ready in our minivan to take her home, but we left her at the hospital. The coroner then funeral director would take her from there. She would never again be mine to hold. Just a few joyful months before on the day after Easter, we had dressed her in a pale pink newborn outfit with a white kitten on her bum. Underneath her outfit was a onesie that read "Daddy's Little Princess". Our biggest worry was how to get our perfectly healthy baby girl home without getting in an accident. Now it felt so wrong to be leaving the children's hospital without our beautiful girl. It had been about 30 hours since I had found her not breathing. Her chubby arms and smooth skin showed the thousands of hours I had cared for her.
Our whole life had changed so quickly; the future felt impossible. As I walked the path of hallways to get back to the front entrance, I looked at the people around me. Did they know? Could they tell that my world had just shattered? Were they worried about their child's broken leg or were they also losing their child?
We walked out of the front doors to go to our car. My entire body tingled with anxiety: How could I go back home? How in the world would I go on living? It felt like I would have to learn how to walk again. Breath again. Everything looked new- the sky looked huge, each individual hair sensed the breeze. I remember looking up and crying out to God with a painful lump in my throat, "Oh, my daughter, my daughter. How can I live, Lord?"
My feet moved mechanically over the lines on the asphalt, and I was immediately reminded(I'm paraphrasing): "I lost my Son. I know what it feels like to lose a child, dear Ruth. I know how it hurts. My Son suffered untold agony for people who did not deserve Him. Mia didn't suffer. I was there with her." I felt like curling up in His arms right there in the parking lot. As I have many times since she died, I longed to be in God's presence so much I felt it in every fiber of my body. He knows what I feel like! I could feel Him right there with me. Oh, how that longing to be in God's presence has made the rest of my life feel like an eternity.
A few moments later another important realization dawned on me. It may sound too theological for hurting parents, but it was a needed reality check for me: We all deserve eternal death for our sins. A perfect God created us, yet we broke our tie with Him by choosing our own way. We deserve to be destroyed. It's only because Jesus died for us that Mia can now be in Heaven in God's presence. One day, the longing I have to with God will be fulfilled!
Derrick and I managed to climb into our vehicle and drive home. It felt like it took forever. I read some of the bereavement literature and the advice for bereaved nursing moms. There was road work being done. Cars passed us on their way to who-knows-where. Everything moved around me like a dream. I knew I needed to see my sons and tell them what had happened to their beloved baby sister. I had a strong convinction that I needed to limit the trauma for them. We had been counseled that they needed to know that we would be alright. They needed some semblance of normal family life. If not for them, I would have wanted to stay with Mia forever.
(To be continued...)
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Photoshoot
Daily life with three kids, ages four, one, and newborn, was BUSY. It was gloriously busy. Nursing Mia and keeping my two sons occupied left me with hardly any time to relax. Oh, and then there was taking care of my hard-working husband and also picking cherries for the local Farmer's Market. It was a dizzying pace. Thankfully, Mia was a very easy-going baby girl. I would carry her on my chest as I picked cherries, feed her in the minivan before an appointment for her brothers, and lay her down to sleep peacefully at the park in the late morning sun. Having all three children in bed at night felt like such an accomplishment. Derrick and I were blissfully tired.
When we were done, my mother and I were so happy to have caught such precious pictures. We admired her smooth, chubby features. Looking back, I suspect that God Himself orchestrated this time. For this to come together so well and so quickly, I can't think of another explanation. I would really have liked a formal family photo with all five of us. However, I'm so grateful that I was able to capture shots of what a beautiful girl she was.
After we took the photos, I felt I had no time and energy to print them and send them off to the people on our Christmas card list. I can't think of another time we had with just the two of us, aside from the midnight feedings. These pictures were safely stored on my computer for three weeks. Life was not going to slow down, and I don't know why I was procrastinating... well, now I know that it worked out very well. Instead of sending out her birth announcements, we sent a memorial photo to thank people(I'm sure I have forgotten to send it to some- please forgive me!). It still hurts that so many of our family and friends were not able to hold or even meet Mia in her short two months on earth, but in this way they can admire God's creation in precious photos.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Upheld
I'm not sure if or when I'll ever write the complete story of Mia's gestation, life, and death. Every part is infused with meaningful expressions of God's rich love to me. As hard as this has been, God has faithfully held my heart through all of it. If I ever tell the complete story, I don't want to risk leaving out a single important detail. Even then, there will be pieces that only God and I will ever know. Along the way, I'll give you some of the beautiful(and difficult) parts that I feel would be most beneficial.
It was Monday morning, June 4th, 2012 that my husband and I sat in a private ER waiting room at Emmanuel Medical Center in Turlock, California. As our daughter was being cared for in the other room, we sat dumbfounded on a hospital couch. Regardless of how hard I try to remember, I don't know when we spoke to each other about needing help. We felt lost and unsure of what we should do. The hospital had furnished us with their on-duty chaplain, and Anglican pastor from an established church in town. We needed someone to help still our hearts- who should we call? Instantly, we knew we needed to call our pastor.
What a relief it was to see him. I don't remember everything we talked about but I do remember his reassuring demeanor. He spoke softly and mirrored our moods. When precious Mia was flown via helicopter to Madera Children's Hospital, he volunteered to drive us there in our car. Although my instincts told me to rush down there, our pastor knew that we needed to take care of ourselves; we stopped for sandwiches before driving upwards of two hours to reach our daughter.
Our pastor stayed with us for a very long day of waiting and being in shock. His darling wife drove all the way down to pick him up and to spend time with us. That was the beginning of a very hard road. It was a critical day that was handled with tenderness. When the children's hospital staff asked if we needed a psychologist or chaplain, we thankfully said with a smile, "No thanks, we have our pastor."
After we spread the sad news of Mia's death, our church, family, and friends sprang into action. My younger sister was already on a plane before we knew that Mia would not recover. My parents were able to visit Mia the night she was in the Pediatric ICU in Madera. Derrick's dad and his wife arrived from Illinois the night she died. In the next days, all EIGHT of our siblings and their families arrived for Mia's funeral. My brother drove across the country from Georgia with his wife and four young children. My pregnant sister drove from Texas with her husband and two small children, with her teenage son flying directly from a school trip in Florida. Derrick's brother and wife found someone to care for their three daughters so they could have their hands free to help us. It was wonderful to spend this time with our siblings, their spouses and children, and our parents.
It is a very good thing adrenaline kicked in to assist us in planning the funeral. Even so, we were almost immediately overwhelmed with correspondence and with planning the many details of giving Mia a public goodbye. My good friend, who happens to also be my pastor's wife, volunteered to organize many details concerning the funeral and logistics for our family. Another good friend began handling the details of furnishing us with meals for quite some time after Mia's funeral. We are just now nearing the end of receiving several meals each week, rotating between our church(First Ripon CRC), my parents' church (Zion URC), my MOMS Club, my MOPS Club, and parents and colleagues at Big Valley Christian School(my employer). I don't know if we would be able to reestablish our family's home life if I did not have help with providing these meals. I think the sheer anxiety of shopping and planning for dinners would have delayed my grieving for Mia.
The evening before we met with two funeral homes, two good friends came to sit and speak with me. God knew just what I needed that night. Even though I am not at all prone to obsession with angels, I told them that I felt He flew them directly to my side. I didn't understand what emotions were beginning to do to my mind and my body. My arms were numb and tingly; sometimes I couldn't move them at all. My mind faded in-and-out of being cognitively aware of my surroundings. One friend is a licensed therapist who had lost her son twenty-five years earlier at about a month-old. She was able to tell me basic things I needed to know about grief and trauma, since I had never experienced such acute grief. The other friend held my hand and rubbed my neck while I sat numb on the couch as we talked.
The memorial service for Mia was beautiful- I will most likely include pieces of it here in the future. Many people remarked how well our church took care of every detail. Our family was tender and thoughtful and present the entire time. A multitude of friends attended- ones we have contact with currently and ones we had not seen in awhile. What I mostly remember of that day is the white dress and pink jewelry I wore in honor of my little girl. I still wear the pink jewelry in her memory. Sadly, I was numb for almost the entire viewing and funeral. To keep it brief, I did not experience most of the weight of grief until the day after the funeral when a tidal wave of anxiety and sadness washed over me... and lasted for a long time.
About two months later, Derrick and I reflected on this period of grieving with two dear elders from our church. As we visited with these understanding men at our dining table, I told them with deep conviction that God had been so faithful and loving to us. One man remarked that we had allowed avenues for God to show His love through His people. I realize that we were cushioned primarily by the support from our family and our church. I have felt like proclaiming from every street corner: "Run, don't walk, to join a local church!" Our family could only do so much as they were also grieving. However, our church seemed like a never-ending source of deep friendship and practical help for us.
Mia and I had sat in Bible study this Spring as we studied the book of Hebrews; in chapter ten it says,"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another." We never imagined needing so much support. It was the support from our church that was the support system we needed. These people listened to God as He moved them to help us in our great need.
It was Monday morning, June 4th, 2012 that my husband and I sat in a private ER waiting room at Emmanuel Medical Center in Turlock, California. As our daughter was being cared for in the other room, we sat dumbfounded on a hospital couch. Regardless of how hard I try to remember, I don't know when we spoke to each other about needing help. We felt lost and unsure of what we should do. The hospital had furnished us with their on-duty chaplain, and Anglican pastor from an established church in town. We needed someone to help still our hearts- who should we call? Instantly, we knew we needed to call our pastor.
What a relief it was to see him. I don't remember everything we talked about but I do remember his reassuring demeanor. He spoke softly and mirrored our moods. When precious Mia was flown via helicopter to Madera Children's Hospital, he volunteered to drive us there in our car. Although my instincts told me to rush down there, our pastor knew that we needed to take care of ourselves; we stopped for sandwiches before driving upwards of two hours to reach our daughter.
Our pastor stayed with us for a very long day of waiting and being in shock. His darling wife drove all the way down to pick him up and to spend time with us. That was the beginning of a very hard road. It was a critical day that was handled with tenderness. When the children's hospital staff asked if we needed a psychologist or chaplain, we thankfully said with a smile, "No thanks, we have our pastor."
After we spread the sad news of Mia's death, our church, family, and friends sprang into action. My younger sister was already on a plane before we knew that Mia would not recover. My parents were able to visit Mia the night she was in the Pediatric ICU in Madera. Derrick's dad and his wife arrived from Illinois the night she died. In the next days, all EIGHT of our siblings and their families arrived for Mia's funeral. My brother drove across the country from Georgia with his wife and four young children. My pregnant sister drove from Texas with her husband and two small children, with her teenage son flying directly from a school trip in Florida. Derrick's brother and wife found someone to care for their three daughters so they could have their hands free to help us. It was wonderful to spend this time with our siblings, their spouses and children, and our parents.
It is a very good thing adrenaline kicked in to assist us in planning the funeral. Even so, we were almost immediately overwhelmed with correspondence and with planning the many details of giving Mia a public goodbye. My good friend, who happens to also be my pastor's wife, volunteered to organize many details concerning the funeral and logistics for our family. Another good friend began handling the details of furnishing us with meals for quite some time after Mia's funeral. We are just now nearing the end of receiving several meals each week, rotating between our church(First Ripon CRC), my parents' church (Zion URC), my MOMS Club, my MOPS Club, and parents and colleagues at Big Valley Christian School(my employer). I don't know if we would be able to reestablish our family's home life if I did not have help with providing these meals. I think the sheer anxiety of shopping and planning for dinners would have delayed my grieving for Mia.
The evening before we met with two funeral homes, two good friends came to sit and speak with me. God knew just what I needed that night. Even though I am not at all prone to obsession with angels, I told them that I felt He flew them directly to my side. I didn't understand what emotions were beginning to do to my mind and my body. My arms were numb and tingly; sometimes I couldn't move them at all. My mind faded in-and-out of being cognitively aware of my surroundings. One friend is a licensed therapist who had lost her son twenty-five years earlier at about a month-old. She was able to tell me basic things I needed to know about grief and trauma, since I had never experienced such acute grief. The other friend held my hand and rubbed my neck while I sat numb on the couch as we talked.
The memorial service for Mia was beautiful- I will most likely include pieces of it here in the future. Many people remarked how well our church took care of every detail. Our family was tender and thoughtful and present the entire time. A multitude of friends attended- ones we have contact with currently and ones we had not seen in awhile. What I mostly remember of that day is the white dress and pink jewelry I wore in honor of my little girl. I still wear the pink jewelry in her memory. Sadly, I was numb for almost the entire viewing and funeral. To keep it brief, I did not experience most of the weight of grief until the day after the funeral when a tidal wave of anxiety and sadness washed over me... and lasted for a long time.
About two months later, Derrick and I reflected on this period of grieving with two dear elders from our church. As we visited with these understanding men at our dining table, I told them with deep conviction that God had been so faithful and loving to us. One man remarked that we had allowed avenues for God to show His love through His people. I realize that we were cushioned primarily by the support from our family and our church. I have felt like proclaiming from every street corner: "Run, don't walk, to join a local church!" Our family could only do so much as they were also grieving. However, our church seemed like a never-ending source of deep friendship and practical help for us.
Mia and I had sat in Bible study this Spring as we studied the book of Hebrews; in chapter ten it says,"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another." We never imagined needing so much support. It was the support from our church that was the support system we needed. These people listened to God as He moved them to help us in our great need.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
What to Say to a Grieving Mother
After my first post "Not Strong", I received two major responses:
1. People sticking by their statement that I am strong with legitimate reasoning, and
2. The question, "What should be said when I can't find the right words?"
In response, I came up with the most helpful things that people have said to me. After each helpful statement, I include an unhelpful variation. Before you read this, I should say that I have been overwhelmed by the positive support that I have received. Even the people who probably said the wrong thing while my heart was very raw were trying their best to help. So, I share these good examples and bad examples not out of bitterness but to help clarify.
1. "I am so sorry."
This lets me know that you are sharing in my sadness. Every fiber of my being cries out in frustration at my loss. It helps when others recognize that they feel that, too.
*Different than: "This is so terrible."
I know it's a terrible tragedy. It is that mind-numbing, hair-standing-on-end tragedy that has left me with vivid flashbacks. It will take a long time for me to wrap my heart around accepting what really happened. I don't need to be reminded how awful this event has been. I am living it.
2. "I could never fully understand how hard this must be for you, but I think of your family often/pray for you throughout the day."
This recognizes that you could never feel the depth of sorrow that I feel but will not forget about me. A great tragedy can be very isolating for the people experiencing it, so letting them know you are supporting them in prayer now and in the future is comforting. I am so thankful for the many people who have prayed for us on their knees with tears before the Lord. I am relieved when people tell me they still think of me- that they haven't moved on to be too preoccupied with their own lives that they've forgotten.
*Different than: "I know you're having a hard time. I once lost a (something different than who was lost)."
There is no need to compare loss or to try to qualify as having lost something as great. The last thing the person needs is to feel misunderstood. I have inwardly cringed as people have tried to compare my loss of Mia to something they have lost(extreme examples are: losing a pet or losing a friendship).
3. "I would like to help by ____________. When can I come over?/Is there someone who can help coordinate a time I can do this?"
A person experiencing deep sorrow and mental anguish is usually not able to ask for help but may desperately need it. If you know the person enough to sense a need OR if you have an ability to offer, make it easy for them by stating the way you can help. Some ideas are: making a meal, helping with home/yard maintenance, offering accommodations/mode of transportation for visiting family, playing with your children for a day, praying for you... the possibilities are endless. If you don't get an answer, maybe the person is too overwhelmed at the time; try offering again in a different way after a few weeks.
*Different than: "Just let me know if you need any help."
This is too general. The person will most likely not take your offer seriously.
*Different than: "Why didn't you ask for help?"
Uh. I was not quite sure how to answer this one appropriately other than feeling even more frustrated than I already was at my mental state.
4. "I remember ___________ about Mia," or "I am so glad I got to see her," or "Can you tell me what kind of baby she was?" or "I never met her, but she is precious in her pictures."
Talking about my late daughter is honoring to her memory. It is refreshing when people talk about her. Because Mia lived two months as a newborn, her immediate family spent the greatest majority with her. As her mom, I fed her, burped her, changed her, lulled her to sleep hundreds of times... that makes thousands of moments that were not shared with anyone. There are not many shared memories besides those that only Mia and I shared. It feels so good to hear others talk about her and remember her, even if they didn't spend that much time with her. I love to hear peoples observations of her or dreams of what she would have been like.
*Different than: Not mentioning her at all.
When Mia's name is not mentioned, it feels like she is taboo. Not speaking of her(or even about how we're doing without her) actually feels dishonoring to her memory. Her life was not a mistake. God planned every one of her days before she came into being.
I assume people don't talk about her not because they are uncaring but because they feel unqualified to do so. They are right not to force it. If you're uncomfortable, you can be honest and ask about her.
5. "How are you doing?... really?"
I would love to tell people how I am really doing, provided that they are ready to listen.
*Different than:"How's it going?"
If I sense that the person asking is not really interested in a genuine answer, I will probably answer a standard "okay." It only took a few people clamming up very quickly for me to learn to hold my tongue and select very carefully to whom I talk.
I am also afraid that people will think I should be over it now. Maybe people will think I'm whining to get attention. I have actually lost a few friendships who seemed unable to accept that parents are not always in control of their children's safety.
6. "I'm praying for you."
I need it. Thank you.
7. "This song/Scripture/devotion/book/story was encouraging to me, so I thought I'd share it with you."
I plan to include the many helpful scraps that people sent to me that seemed directly from God's mouth.
*Different than: Advice from your perspective. It's hard to simply try harder or to require more from myself emotionally than I'm already doing. And unless you have also lost a child(people who have experienced this have ironically said hardly anything at all) or are a psychologist or pastor, please refrain from giving advice.
Thank you to the many people who have shared their hearts with me to encourage me. People have shared my burden, prayed for me, called/texted/e-mailed to check on me, talked with me at length, helped me, and served me. I have been overwhelmed by the gracious support I have received.
Although a few of my relationships have suffered, I have been blessed with new friendships and with incredibly meaningful existing relationships. People have left me baffled with the honor they have bestowed on me as Mia's mother and on my family. I will probably never mention these people by name. But rest assured that if you have written/contacted me, I was deeply touched and will never forget your effort. It has been uncanny how people's comments have seemed to have been planned from God to comfort me.
Lastly, I plan to write another entry about how God's Word has been completely different to me now, even after more than twenty years of having God's Holy Spirit dwelling within me and teaching me. So if you have a Scripture passage that has been meaningful to you, please send it. I would love to read it and hear why it has seemed meant just for you: 4812EternallyLoved@gmail.com
1. People sticking by their statement that I am strong with legitimate reasoning, and
2. The question, "What should be said when I can't find the right words?"
In response, I came up with the most helpful things that people have said to me. After each helpful statement, I include an unhelpful variation. Before you read this, I should say that I have been overwhelmed by the positive support that I have received. Even the people who probably said the wrong thing while my heart was very raw were trying their best to help. So, I share these good examples and bad examples not out of bitterness but to help clarify.
1. "I am so sorry."
This lets me know that you are sharing in my sadness. Every fiber of my being cries out in frustration at my loss. It helps when others recognize that they feel that, too.
*Different than: "This is so terrible."
I know it's a terrible tragedy. It is that mind-numbing, hair-standing-on-end tragedy that has left me with vivid flashbacks. It will take a long time for me to wrap my heart around accepting what really happened. I don't need to be reminded how awful this event has been. I am living it.
2. "I could never fully understand how hard this must be for you, but I think of your family often/pray for you throughout the day."
This recognizes that you could never feel the depth of sorrow that I feel but will not forget about me. A great tragedy can be very isolating for the people experiencing it, so letting them know you are supporting them in prayer now and in the future is comforting. I am so thankful for the many people who have prayed for us on their knees with tears before the Lord. I am relieved when people tell me they still think of me- that they haven't moved on to be too preoccupied with their own lives that they've forgotten.
*Different than: "I know you're having a hard time. I once lost a (something different than who was lost)."
There is no need to compare loss or to try to qualify as having lost something as great. The last thing the person needs is to feel misunderstood. I have inwardly cringed as people have tried to compare my loss of Mia to something they have lost(extreme examples are: losing a pet or losing a friendship).
3. "I would like to help by ____________. When can I come over?/Is there someone who can help coordinate a time I can do this?"
A person experiencing deep sorrow and mental anguish is usually not able to ask for help but may desperately need it. If you know the person enough to sense a need OR if you have an ability to offer, make it easy for them by stating the way you can help. Some ideas are: making a meal, helping with home/yard maintenance, offering accommodations/mode of transportation for visiting family, playing with your children for a day, praying for you... the possibilities are endless. If you don't get an answer, maybe the person is too overwhelmed at the time; try offering again in a different way after a few weeks.
*Different than: "Just let me know if you need any help."
This is too general. The person will most likely not take your offer seriously.
*Different than: "Why didn't you ask for help?"
Uh. I was not quite sure how to answer this one appropriately other than feeling even more frustrated than I already was at my mental state.
4. "I remember ___________ about Mia," or "I am so glad I got to see her," or "Can you tell me what kind of baby she was?" or "I never met her, but she is precious in her pictures."
Talking about my late daughter is honoring to her memory. It is refreshing when people talk about her. Because Mia lived two months as a newborn, her immediate family spent the greatest majority with her. As her mom, I fed her, burped her, changed her, lulled her to sleep hundreds of times... that makes thousands of moments that were not shared with anyone. There are not many shared memories besides those that only Mia and I shared. It feels so good to hear others talk about her and remember her, even if they didn't spend that much time with her. I love to hear peoples observations of her or dreams of what she would have been like.
*Different than: Not mentioning her at all.
When Mia's name is not mentioned, it feels like she is taboo. Not speaking of her(or even about how we're doing without her) actually feels dishonoring to her memory. Her life was not a mistake. God planned every one of her days before she came into being.
I assume people don't talk about her not because they are uncaring but because they feel unqualified to do so. They are right not to force it. If you're uncomfortable, you can be honest and ask about her.
5. "How are you doing?... really?"
I would love to tell people how I am really doing, provided that they are ready to listen.
*Different than:"How's it going?"
If I sense that the person asking is not really interested in a genuine answer, I will probably answer a standard "okay." It only took a few people clamming up very quickly for me to learn to hold my tongue and select very carefully to whom I talk.
I am also afraid that people will think I should be over it now. Maybe people will think I'm whining to get attention. I have actually lost a few friendships who seemed unable to accept that parents are not always in control of their children's safety.
6. "I'm praying for you."
I need it. Thank you.
7. "This song/Scripture/devotion/book/story was encouraging to me, so I thought I'd share it with you."
I plan to include the many helpful scraps that people sent to me that seemed directly from God's mouth.
*Different than: Advice from your perspective. It's hard to simply try harder or to require more from myself emotionally than I'm already doing. And unless you have also lost a child(people who have experienced this have ironically said hardly anything at all) or are a psychologist or pastor, please refrain from giving advice.
Thank you to the many people who have shared their hearts with me to encourage me. People have shared my burden, prayed for me, called/texted/e-mailed to check on me, talked with me at length, helped me, and served me. I have been overwhelmed by the gracious support I have received.
Although a few of my relationships have suffered, I have been blessed with new friendships and with incredibly meaningful existing relationships. People have left me baffled with the honor they have bestowed on me as Mia's mother and on my family. I will probably never mention these people by name. But rest assured that if you have written/contacted me, I was deeply touched and will never forget your effort. It has been uncanny how people's comments have seemed to have been planned from God to comfort me.
Lastly, I plan to write another entry about how God's Word has been completely different to me now, even after more than twenty years of having God's Holy Spirit dwelling within me and teaching me. So if you have a Scripture passage that has been meaningful to you, please send it. I would love to read it and hear why it has seemed meant just for you: 4812EternallyLoved@gmail.com
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