My greatest form of support are the things that bring me into a community of others that have been through a version of my loss. While I never want anyone to experience what we went through, there is so much comfort in the connection with someone who truly understands. The depth of heartache, shame, guilt, emptiness is unlike any other loss and it requires a completely different level of empathy over grief. My personal experiences are most profoundly influenced by my trip to Manitoba, Canada only 4 months after we lost Millie, to gather together with about 20 other young moms who had also been through pregnancy or infant loss. The first day was intensely emotionally charged and anxious yet comforting and connecting. We spent a week together and formed the closest bonds with perfect strangers, so much so that these women are still some of my dearest friends who have walked with me through other personal challenges along the way. I am so grateful for the fact that we are all over the world and yet still connected immediately through technology. These friends have walked with me during some of the darkest times in my life and even though we are so far apart we have had the pleasure of meeting together again over the years and it has been the most life-giving experiences.
~Day 9: Transformed~
I am not the person I was before I lost my daughter. I guess in some ways it's the same as being completely transformed when one becomes a parent. I became a parent and a bereaved parent all at the same time. The greatest change is that on my daughter's second day of life I was saved. For her birth, we were gifted a devotional and when I read that day's it broke my heart open to what it means to completely and wholly trust God, especially in the face of something (my daughter's health) that was completely, entirely out of my control. I knew without a doubt that God would carry her and us through whatever laid ahead. I never anticipated losing her but God carried me through every bit of that too. I am now a daughter in Christ and I have been forced to learn what it means to be obedient to God and his desires for my life. My understanding of God's love for me is so beautifully illustrated in the role I have developed as a mother, the same depths of love and discipline exist and it has transformed so much of my life. I am now deeply honest, deeply empathetic, deeply committed. I am strong in a way that is not a reflection of me but of the gift God gives me to endure unimaginable pain and devastation. It is a strength that defies logic and has carried me through my greatest emotional challenges with my sanity somehow still intact.
My treatment style as a physical therapist has changed and I am much more concerned about making sure my patients feel heard and acknowledging the challenges they are facing but focusing on being a source of encouragement no matter whether I can completely fix their physical ailment or not. I am now someone who leans in when a patient shares the grief that has happened in their life for example over the loss of a loved one, a cancer diagnosis or a mentally ill family member. Prior to losing Millie I would have moved right past those subjects as if the words never came out of the patient's mouth but now it matters and I care.
My parenting tactics are so very, very different than I ever anticipated prior to losing Millie. After losing her, I recognize how much I cannot control and that easing my anxieties by placing Bodey into a bubble of protection will not actually protect him. I am, therefore, indescribably laid back and difficult to make worry.
I am not the girl I was before I had Millie but I wouldn't change it for the world, I am so much more grounded and fulfilled. I am so much more for so many more.
~Day 10: Love Letter~
Dearest Millie, You are so special. You define me. You encourage so many areas in my life. You are never not with me. You are the ache that will never leave me. You are the calm that anchors me to eternal life. You are love. You are my greatest gift. I love you sweet pea. Love, Mommy
~Day 11: Honor~
Millie is honored on her birthday when we release balloons as a gift for her to see. We honor Millie by releasing lanterns into the night sky on the anniversary of her passing as a way to show how she is still the light in the darkness of her passing. We participate in performing an Act of Kindness in her honor every Christmas. Every Oct 15 we light a candle for her at 7pm to participate in the Wave of Light.
~Day 12: Just Breathe~
How do I cope when people say the wrong thing? I have always chosen to hear Love instead of hearing the wrong words that are coming out of their mouths. I assume that they are uncomfortable, unsure of what to say or speaking hurtful words out of a trigger to their own hurts so I choose to hear Love. I choose to believe that no one intends to be hurtful or hateful and if I can I will engaged them in a conversation that indirectly addresses their unintentional hurtful words. I have rarely left a conversation outright hurt by the words or actions of another person. I choose to remain positive and Loving because our culture does not inherently do well with this subject so I choose not to blame an individual but try to focus on changing the conversation to help improve the understanding and encourage empathy.
~Day 13: Educate~
What I want other people to know about my journey in grief is that everyone dies. We all know someone who has died, we all know someone who will die, we will all lose a very important person. Death is inevitable. It is not predictable. Watching a loved one pass is beautiful and relieving but nonetheless permanent. Why are we afraid to come alongside a friend, a loved one, an acquaintance going through the grief of loss? Do we not know the pain they have suffered? Are we incapable of imagining what it must be like do to life so completely differently now? Is it realistic to imagine that life can go back to normal in a set amount of time? Is the risk of being perceived as awkward so terrifying that we refuse to step-out with a gesture of love towards a friend going through grief? Why is it so hard for our culture to embrace the beauty, the pain, the joy and the sorrow that occurs during the loss of a loved one? Why are we afraid of the one thing we are certain we will all face? I just believe we all have a lot of work to do towards expressing compassion, patience and empathy in the face of another person's experience in grief over death.
~Day 14: Connect~
I connect with Millie through the simple fact that I am her mother, I carried her in my belly for 37 weeks, I laid on an operating table while she was removed from my belly, I comforted her in the NICU for 2 weeks, held onto her endlessly for the 9 days she spent at home with us and cradled her lifeless body in my arms for 8 hours before it was time to let her go forever. She is mine. She is the gift God entrusted me with and I know that our 37 weeks and 23 days together are just as permanents as decades would have been. She is ingrained in the very essence of who I am, she is me and I am her. Her name is permanently etched in my skin, her name adorns the bracelet on my arm, the title 'mom' that I was given when she was born hangs around my neck ever since the day I received that honor. Her garden flourishes in my backyard. Her magnolia tree in my front yard is almost 9 feet tall now. Her brother shares her nursery, rocking chair, crib, blankets and books, car seat and toys. Her picture hangs throughout my home and is the screen saver on my computers. I wrap up in her blankets at night. I feel elevated to her whenever the sky shines pink, when the stars shine extra bright and when a butterfly flutters by.
No comments:
Post a Comment