Grieving

Grieving Sucks.

I hate it.

Grieving is a ridiculously difficult process.

I was 25 years old when our daughter, Mackenzie, arrived stillborn.  Grieving the loss of her life was single-handedly the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.  I took the grieving process head-on, and attempted to actively grieve, and followed all of the advice to get through the process well.  I learned four very important truths through grieving:

1)  God is in control.

2)  People care, and want to offer comfort and support.

3)  The pain of grief must be carried, and cannot be handed to anyone else (not that you would want anyone else to feel how horrible you feel anyway).  

4)  You really do survive the pain.  As the days pass, life fills up your heart so that the hole that is there does not feel as intense.

In spite of those powerful lessons, I still say that grieving is terribly agonizing.

It was so awful that when my second pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage, I tried to refuse to grieve.  I did not want to go down that path again.  It was too much. 

Well, it became obvious to me that grieving is a requirement, and to try to avoid it only succeeded in getting me stuck in various places in the cycle.  

I got stuck in anger.  I got stuck in the intense sadness.  I had to be treated for clinical depression.

No fun.

Lesson learned:  Grieve.  Go through the process.  Any attempt to avoid it really messes up your ability to function in your life.

Well, here I am again.  Grieving.  Living through the heartbreak of the death of a child.

I already know how tough this road is going to be.  I already know that I can't avoid it.  I would rather avoid it.  But, I already know what I have to do...

There are 5 stages to the grieving process, and we go through it in cycles.  There is no particular order.  It is not certain how many times you will have to visit each stage, or how long or how quickly you will jump to another stage.  But, it seems clear that you can't skip any stage or the process entirely.  The 5 stages of grief (according to my personal description, not a professional declaration) are:

• Shock/Numbness
• Intense Sadness/Crying
• Anger (this is SO unfair!)
• Bargaining/Spiritual Struggle (Why me?!?)
• Resolution/Acceptance (I am getting through this, and life does go on)

This time around, I am not naive enough to believe that I can make the path easier by actively pursuing it.  

I had jumped into the grieving process after Mackenzie's death--full force--by joining a support group for bereaved parents, reading a slew of books, pamphlets, and websites about the grieving process and how to handle it, and by talking to anyone and everyone who would listen to my story.  I admired the pictures and mementos that I had.  I lit candles at memorial events.  I made donations to charity in memory of our daughter.

Being the goal-oriented person that I am, I attempted to achieve the "resolution" phase of grief just as fast as I could.  

It doesn't work that way.  There does not appear to be an efficient way to grieve.

The pain is so intense.  It must be felt.  It must be endured until it lessens.  

I did not want to sit still and feel.  So, I threw myself into my work.  That proved to be highly beneficial for my career....arriving early, staying late, taking on an extra workload.  It kept me moving forward through life, but it could not remove the emotion.

There were still random times when the emotion took hold of me.

One such time was when I was taking Jersey #1 to daycare.  As we walked down the hall, another child was out-walking her parents to her classroom.  They called out to her, "Mackenzie wait for me."  The sound of someone calling the name Mackenzie stopped me in my tracks.  My heart raced.  I was actually frozen for a second.  I had to collect myself and re-focus on the task at hand.  I did not even turn around and see the family with the daughter named Mackenzie.  It was shocking to me that I would be so strongly affected like that, even though over 2 years had passed.  

This time around, grieving the death of Titus, I am trying to just endure.  I know I can't race through grief.  I know I can't avoid it.  Hopefully, if I can endure it, feel it, live it, and survive it, I will come out stronger on the other side.

From the very start, I have been making a point to do all I can to live this experience with integrity.  I tried to make choices for his delivery that would bring me the most peace of mind.  I planned a memorial service to honor God and the sweet, short life of Titus.  Burying his body along with Mackenzie's cremains was another attempt to bring closure.  A friend of mine took a ton of pictures of Titus for me.  I cherished the pictures I had of Mackenzie, so I knew I would cherish the pictures of Titus as well.  I love pictures, especially pictures of my children.  This time around, I was able to use my past experiences to help me focus on what would bring me the most comfort.  

Unfortunately, I still have to endure the emotion.  

A couple days after the death, I met with our Family Physician to go over things.  He likes to have "grieving appointments" to check up on the state of health of his grieving patients.  He has also buried a child, so he knows what that pain is like.  It takes one to know one, and he brings comfort because he understands.  

He gave me a great compliment, because he told me that he knew he did not have to worry about me.  He knew I was of strong mind.  He knew I was of strong faith.  He knew I have a tremendous network of support.  (I really do have the most amazing friends and family).  

I assured him that I was not going through the list of "what ifs", "why", or "was it something I did?"  

I am not questioning how did this happen.  Bad things happen.  We live in a world that is ruined by sin.  Death happens.  I don't blame myself.  I don't blame The Referee.  I don't blame anyone or anything.

I know God is in control.  His ways are higher than our ways, and we don't always get to understand the full picture.  I take comfort in knowing that Titus is happy in heaven, waiting on me.  He truly is in a better place, even though my selfish desire is for him to be here in my arms. 

Although well-meaning people try to find a silver lining, I really do not want an answer to "why" did this happen?  If you can come up with a good reason for a baby to die, I would rather not hear it.  There is no reason for a baby to die, in my opinion.  I think that is sick to think it was a good thing.  

I am thankful that The Referee was able to be strong during this crisis, and willing to provide comfort and support to me and the children.  This is his character, and I expected him to rise so well to the occasion.  I am grateful that he was willing to have a memorial service, even though returning to our church, and facing our friends and family was very difficult for him.  He blessed me greatly, and I am thankful.   

 I realize that in the midst of my current broken marriage, it is easy to suggest that maybe this crisis will warm my husband's heart and bring him home.....  but really?  Should a baby die just to get a husband to realize he belongs at home with his family?  I still think that notion is sick.  I do not equate the two situations or link them in that way.  Yuck.  I would much rather that my husband have never left, and that our son would have lived. 

I really do have amazing support.  Friends and family are grieving with me, and they do not want to see me suffer.  They are doing all they can to bring comfort, encouragement, and support.  I know I am being bathed in prayer.  I can practically feel it.  The children and I are also being spoiled with food.  A friend set up a meal calendar, and friends have signed up to bring us dinner for over two weeks.  It is wild!  Every day, a friend stops by with a hot meal, and often extras like cookies or juice for the kids.  I have not had to worry about meal planning or cooking, which has been a real treat.  Hugs, prayers, tears, flowers, emails, texts, visits....the love is abundant, and it really brings me comfort during this most difficult time.

Having living children is one of the greatest comforts to me right now.  Mackenzie was my first child, so her death left me a mother who did not have any children to raise.  That was torture.  I even avoided babies and children in general, because I felt so uncomfortable with the status of my motherhood.  This time around, I have 5 delightful youngin's who bring me joy even when I am sad.  I am no longer uncomfortable around babies or other children.  Actually, I enjoy them.  I can even hold and admire the babies of my friends, with ease.  I try to keep attending my kids' activities, because being around children is a blessing.  They cause such random laughter and amusement, even while I grieve.

Still, I must get through the grieving process, and it is not easy.

I tried to set goals and start moving forward.  My physical health would not allow it.  In addition to what I think is a slow recovery from childbirth, this time around, I also came down sick with a fever and head cold.  Well, there is nothing like feeling crummy to help you feel sorry for yourself.

I spent most of Saturday crying.  I was so sad and heartbroken.  I was wrestling with the challenges of my life, the loss of my hopes and dreams, and the things that were preventing me from moving forward.  I was frustrated.  So, I cried.  And I cried.  The Referee and Jersey #1 recognized the intensity of my grief and called upon a friend to come over and comfort me.  My friend hung out with me for hours, letting me cry and talk and cry some more.  She did not try to give me answers.  She did not try to make me laugh.  She just stayed with me and let me feel, express, and endure....but not alone.

I learned a lot that day about this stinking grief.  I am going to have to FEEL it.  Ugh.  I actually have to slow down and feel the intense pain and sadness.  It is the only way to get through it well.  I also learned that I am going to have to slow down for physical reasons too.  My body wants more time to heal.  Two weeks is not enough.  I joke that maybe I should go ahead and rest for at least as long as it take the bruises from the IV lines to heal.  My sore hands and arms are still reminding me of painful IVs and blood draws that took place while I was at the hospital.  If I slow down, I will really feel the heartache.  No fun. 

There are 5 stages to grieving, and an entire stage is dedicated to intense emotional pain and crying.  

Ugh.

Did I mention that grieving sucks?!?!