Grieving Mothers (and Fathers)

Today marks 4 months since our precious Elise died.

Since my last post, I have left my job as a NICU nurse and started a new job as an outpatient clinic nurse.  I have gotten pregnant and lost another baby.  I have started a new hobby in an effort to have something positive and fun to concentrate on.  Life goes on...day by day...

I know I have kind of abandoned this blog since Elise died, but I wanted to write a post about grief to share with my family and friends.  I felt it was appropriate to post to this blog because, although she has died, we still continue to cherish Elise every single day.

Grieving Mothers (and Fathers)

It has been 4 months since our baby died.  As each day goes by, Elise's memory seems to slip further away from the front of the rest of the world's mind.  But for us, her mom and dad, she is still very much present in our everyday life....her memory follows us through every moment of the day.  Of course, if I see a baby or a pregnant mom, I think of Elise immediately, but it's everything else in life too.  When I look at the fridge, I remember the ultrasounds of Elise that used to proudly hang on the front.  When I sit on the couch, I remember holding my baby there as she died, or I think about the nights I didn't get to spend there feeding my child in the middle of the night.  When I see my children, I remember them with their sister, or imagine how their lives would be different if Elise were still here.  When I see a large syringe at work, I think of using a similar syringe to tube feed my daughter.  When I am invited to the neighbor's house or anywhere else, I think of how I shouldn't be able to go, or I should be bringing my daughter with me, held tight against me in her baby carrier.  When I eat lunch at work, I think about how I am eating my lunch with both hands, instead of pumping while I eat, like I did for my other two children.  

These thoughts may be fleeting, or I may indulge my grief and linger on them for longer than I need to, but they are there.  I am surviving, and living, but I am still very much grieving.  I feel empty even though my life is FULL of blessings (including my other two amazing, and very much alive, children).  I know our family is incomplete.  I feel like I'm searching, searching, searching....but I know that what I want to find can't be found.  No amount of thinking will bring my baby back into my arms and take away this nightmare.

I feel like the world doesn't know what to do with me now.  Now that some time has passed, people don't know how to act or what to say.  They don't know what will be helpful or hurtful, so they just stay away.   I'd like to share with you my own perspective on interacting with a grieving mother or father.

1. Say my daughter's name.  Refer to her as Elise.  It is music to my ears to hear her name spoken out loud.
2. If you're debating on whether you should say something to me, or ask me something about my daughter, please, PLEASE, say something!  You aren't digging up the past and bringing up pain that wasn't already there.  I've had many people say that they don't want to say something about Elise because they are afraid that bringing her up will bring back pain and memories for me.  Don't worry.  I'm already thinking about Elise every single day.  I want to talk about her.  She's my daughter and I love her, and I want to talk about her just like every other proud mother wants to talk about their own kids.  Yes, I may cry....but you just allowed me to cry with you instead of silently and by myself like I was probably already doing anyway.
3. If something reminds you of Elise or you think of her, send me a text, a card, or give me a call and let me know.  It's nice to know that someone else has been thinking about my baby.  Like many other grieving mothers, I often fear (irrationally) that Elise will be forgotten to everyone but me and my family.
4. Know that every month, on the anniversary of her birth, and every month, on the anniversary of her death (and the days in between), I will be having a harder time than normal.  Let me.  And acknowledge the day if you happen to think of it.
5. Don't stop talking about your own baby or pregnancy to me.  I may be jealous (I'm sorry...I wish I weren't), but I like to hear about happiness and joy and good things in this world.  And besides, it stings a lot more to feel like I'm being avoided because of my grief.
6. Be patient with me.  I may be struggling.  I may be anxious, or tired from lack of sleep, or distracted.  I'm trying not to be.  Don't give up on me.  
7. Laugh and rejoice with me.  Some days are mostly good and happy.  Those days are coming more frequently than they used to.  On those days, I still think about Elise, but I know it's okay to be happy too.
8. Share with me.  Did you lose a baby?  A niece or nephew or grandchild?  If you feel comfortable doing so, I'd love for you to share the memory and story of that child with me.  It helps me feel less alone.

Like I said...the good days are starting to happen more often, but I am still a grieving mom.  I can smile and act like I never lost a child, but inside my head and heart are a whole different story.  From talking to other grieving parents, I know that what I am going through is normal.  So if you're reading this and you happen to know other grieving parents, please keep these things in mind.  They may be feeling and thinking the same things.  

Thank you for reading my post and continuing to offer your love, prayers, and support.