When A Mother Loses A Child

We lost our 14 year old son in 2008. I will forever treasure those who reached out to us - even when I could not speak and chose to ignore them, I still appreciated the gesture. What hurt is those that did nothing. Reading your posts helps me realize perhaps they did nothing because they didn't know what to do...what to say...etc. I need to move beyond the pain that I still carry from those I feel "let me down" during this journey. What I can offer is that the support I received online, from my blogging friends and neighbors, is what carried some days. I realize this post is somewhat dated but I can share that this mother STILL needs support. Pain from child loss never goes away. It is a loss that most only give support to in the first few months. Those first months though are the ones that you are most numb. It is the one year anniversary, the milestones and the moments after in which you need the most support. Or, at least that's how it has been for me personally. I don't know Anna but I offer my prayers to her as she faces this new reality.

I think bearing witness is important -- others seeing the loss, seeing the pain, is so validating.  Especially with pregnancy loss, which is often treated as inconsequential when really it is one of the greatest, most unfair, most senseless losses.  My daughter was stillborn in November, and I want people to know our story, to see, and to see God working in the midst of it.  Anything less would render our already senseless loss even more senseless. 

I gave birth to my daughter in October.  We found out a few days before this that she was dead. Dead in my stomach.  I had to deliver her dead.  It hands down is the worst thing I've ever done in my life.  I am a changed person because of her.  It has only been 4 months, and the grief is still unbearable.  We want to try again soon (I'm almost 36) and pray it ends better.  www.letterstoleia.ca

Losing a child is something unimaginable for me. I have two children and they are the light of my life even though they may be difficult at times. I could never advise anyone how they should bear the loss of a child. I have a religion and so I would use my faith to help me and believe that they have gone to a better place. It is a such a tough thing to come to terms with. All the best for those who have suffered such a loss.

Stacy,

Such a nice post, thoughtful and kind.

One of the best things said to me was, "I can never know how you feel, but I want to be there for you." It's a special grief, bigger than most so she'll need lots of quiet time. And there's a lot riding on her because she has a living child who is grieving too. And a sweetheart who just lost a son. Now all will gather and support in loving ways. But in six weeks the black cloud will roll in and she may wonder if she has value or life itself has value. That's when my friends true colors showed themselves most beautifully, the daily calls, the laughs they forced from me as we remembered my child together had me coming back into the world we all inhabit together. Yes hang in there for her Bloghers, for her it will not fade away, so I will wait a month and then send a little message of hope and condolence, perhaps something riotously funny if I can find it, every week for a while that she might have the courage to go on.

Stacy,

This is such a thoughtful piece. I lost my daughter as an infant and so many people tried to push their way into our grief, thinking they knew what we needed most. Along with grieving our daughter we were left with unhappy relatives and lost friendships because others just did not understand the way that we needed to grieve. I think the most important thing every can do for Anna is give her space and time and let her know that we are all here when she needs us.

Thank you for writing such an important piece.

Jessica

Oh, believe me, I thought about this as well.

But, then, I thought: maybe we can create a village around Anna, one posted comment at a time.

And, when she is ready to read: in 6 months or 1 year or 2 years...when she is ready, she'll feel this love.

Her son's life is validated, he's made real, our love for him is palpable: I think to be alone, with no ripple felt in the universe at such a seismic catastrophe, I think that would be worse.

I'd rather err on the side of showing too much love, than not showing enough love.

Anna's good friend Kate, @BigPieceofCake, wrote a wonderful post about Anna, about the community's reactions, about where Anna finds peace and solace, about how people can help, about what bloggers can do, how we can reach out to her and let her know we are thinking of her. I'm so happy to give Kate the "final word" on my musing about how we can reach out, and whether it's okay if we do it. Here's the link to her post: http://www.thebigpieceofcake.com/2011/09/for-anna-see.html

And here's the sisterhood that is motherhood. There's nothing quite like it. May no mother ever feel alone.

I can imagine incomprehensible grief. My prayers are strength for the family to endure the next few days, weeks and months.

There are no words. So sad. I offer my prayers, but I think I'll refrain from clicking through at this time, because I didn't know Anna or her blog before, and it would feel like I was intruding. I wouldn't walk into a visitation simply because I read a stranger's obituary, no matter how much it moved me, and it feels right to let the same sensibility be my guide here.

As for those who consider themselves to be Anna's virtual neighbors and acquaintances, I imagine it as important and as appropriate to communicate support and presence through blog comments as it is to come bearing food and flowers in the offline neighborhood.

I agree that situations like these really show up how rapidly our definitions of community and friendship are changing. Faster than the social code can catch up.

You could not have spoken with more truth than what you have right here. I lost my brother, sister-in-law, best friend and husband within a short time from each other...When people chimed in, especially those I did not know that well I was taken and offended by the public drama. I resented those that did not know me trying to jump on the band wagon. Thank you for your thoughts which provide healing after all this time..."It truly was more than one (I) could bear and I never realized until now that perhaps more people related to my grief than I realized" and wanted to send their wishes of love and peace. I cannot imagine losing a child...

I can't even imagine. My heart feels physically heavy in my chest. I don't know Anna - I hadn't read her blog - and yet it's all I can think about. Unspeakably awful.

I think I would want to be surrounded by that cyber love, but you're right that we can't know. I can only hope that by sending love and thoughts and prayers we can each lighten her load, just a little.

Your last two sentences are why I left my prayers on Anna's blog. It's far too much for one woman to bear.

Thank you for being able to articulate what so many are feeling. I think the outpouring of deep feeling stems from 2 places: those who knew her, even if only through her writing, could tell what a kind, generous person she is and we love her for the way she wrote about things that mattered most to her with grace and humor. And second; we moms put ourselves in her place, at the abyss, and know it could have been us. We think of the moment before the pain and can't imagine ever feeling whole again. My thoughts and prayers are with her now.

I knew exactly what this was about when I saw the title, as it's all I can think about. This post expresses it perfectly. But even though we cannot speed up the grieving process or keep the spectre at bay, we must close ranks around the gaping hole. For even if she looks down and sees nothing but black, she shouldn't see that when she looks around.

Thank you for saying what is in our hearts and minds. I am praying for Anna and her family, hoping in some way all of our prayers and thoughts for her family help to carry her through this time.

My prayers go out to Anna and her family.

This is so well said. I think we would all bear a part of each other's burden if we could. It's impossible of course when the pain is, as you said, seismic. thank you for writing this tonight.

Incredible post, about unimaginable pain.

It's just unspeakable. My heart and prayers are with Anna and her family.

I agree with Mom101 I think the best we can do is be present and accessible, and do our best to honour the wishes of the bereaved. Grief is such a personal journey. Loss is such an excruciating education. Respect, and grave, are all that remain to give.

This is so beautifully written Stacy. I think we all grieve and heal in different ways--some are comforted by solitude, some by company. The most we can do is determine what the bereaved wants of us. Even if it goes against our own inclinations. That's the part I find hard.

this is so heartbreaking. it just takes my breath away.

I think it's important to remember that everybody grieves differently. Some people are buoyed up by the outpouring of love, and others feel oppressed by it. Some feel abandoned if they don't receive that outpouring.

There are no easy answers, other than respect what she state's specifically. If she asks for privacy, honor that. Otherwise, send more love. Also, remember her months from now.

I heard a quote once, related to my own cancer battle, but it fits here "people give you three months to grieve, and a year to have cancer. then they expect you to just get on with your life." for my part, that has been extremely true.

Please don't make this quote true for her - remember it 6 months from now, a year from now... there is no "just get on with your life."

As a mother who has lost a child, I can tell you that anyone who reaches out and shows their love is healing. My heart hurts for her and I pray that she allows her IRL friends and her online friends to wrap her in hugs and love and finds comfort in knowing that so many people love her and will cherish the memories of her son.

How odd -- I just wrote about this topic on my blog this morning: http://talesfromclarkstreet.blogspot.com/2011/09/bravest-women-i-know-on-loss-of-child.html

It's been my experience with my 3 local friends who have lost children that the most powerful thing we can do is listen. Hugs also help.

And I just have to add that her son was just a gorgeous boy who looked to possess the sweetest heart. That alone? Worth shouting from the rooftops that he was here. He was here and mattered, and always always will.

I think if I lean in with careful attention to how the person responds, not offering judgment or filtering the event through my own lens, and prepared to lean back if that's what they want? That's okay.

It's hard to know what to say to someone who has experienced something for which there are no words. But in my worst moments of pain, which have not approached anything this crushing, it was always better to know someone was there than to feel that no one cared or was avoiding me.

I had this same fear about respecting her privacy, and then I remembered that death is painfully public and so at least we can usher some support along with it.

Also, I heard from her close friends that they are a deeply religious family and that prayers are appreciated. As mothers and bloggers, and on the cusp of the 9/11 anniversary I know that so many of us are sharing in this pain today--a pain no person should have to every carry.