A Mother's Journey Through Grief
It is Mother’s Day again... A day many celebrate with joy and love. For me, Mother’s Day has often been fraught with mixed emotions as I spent my first 57 days of motherhood with twins in the NICU. I had twins, Sydney and Kelsey, and Kelsey died at 19 days after fighting a grueling battle with MRSA (a hospital born infection). These small girls started their life at a very frail state of two pounds each. When Kelsey died, we buried our sweet baby and the very next day it was back to my post at Sydney’s incubator. Sitting in a stupor, while praying that my small, fragile baby would be able to come home safely, I waited. I look back at this time, (although much of it is a blur) and ponder where I found the strength to continue the journey to get our daughter Sydney home. How did I get out of bed every morning, get dressed and drive the 1.4 miles to the hospital? I don’t have the answers to these questions, but somehow I found the strength and just did it. I call this period my “white knuckling it” – as I was in a state of utter shock and overwhelm most of the time.
And then life continued in a very unexpected way… I was no longer part of the elite group of “moms with twins”. I joined another group. A group I never thought I would be a member of; a group of “moms who lost a multiple”. I have spent countless years reflecting on all that I have learned and experienced. I have cried gallons of tears and sought solace in many places and with some amazing people. The following are some of the lessons that continue to resonate with me.
1. Grief is not a “thing” that you get over (at least I haven’t). I had twins and one of my daughters died. That is not a thing that you get over. I spent the first 12 years languishing in the sea of, “If I was only supposed to have one child, then why did I have twins?” This question became bigger than me at times. I thought if only I could figure this out I could find closure. I’m sure you can imagine the journey I took in my mind trying to work it out. No answer emerged, however a different question did. The new question became, “I can’t change my current reality, so what am I supposed to learn from this – and what do I do now?” As you can see, it look me 12 years to change the internal dialogue, but once I did, things began to shift in my head and heart.
2. Grief is a very personal experience; It is not a competition. Everyone I meet has, or is currently enduring, some sort of loss that brings about grief. About one year after Sydney got out of the NICU, I decided I needed to go out into the world and start volunteering to help other parents who had premature babies. I had not done any of my own grief work yet, but thought I would feel better if I could just help someone else. My volunteering took the shape of bringing food monthly to parents who had babies in the NICU. Little did I know that one of biggest life lessons would emerge after a two minute conversation with a stranger. I was talking to a dad whose child needed to spend a couple of days in the NICU, and he was beyond devastated that they were unable to take her home yet. As soon as he started to tell me about his baby being fine, but needing a couple of days of in hospital care, I thought my head was going to explode. I wasn’t proud of my thoughts, but quickly I went to… “Are you kidding me right now?! Your baby just needs a couple of days and get stronger and you are devastated by that? My baby is dead… now that is something you can be devastated by!” This unsuspecting stranger had no idea what was being unleashed in my head, as I smiled and wished him the best of luck with his new arrival. I then got the hell out of the hospital. As I drove home, I was overwhelmed with this sense of adrenaline and deep shame. I knew that I needed to do something different, and I was not ready to show up for anyone else, yet. It look a while this lesson to truly sink in, but once it did – it was a biggie. The lesson here was – grief is not a competition, and whatever someone is feeling is valid, painful and real to them. It doesn’t matter the type of loss or experience the person is having, as grief is grief (in all its many forms) and who am I to judge it.
3. How to answer one of the most basic questions in life, “How many kids do you have?” This question became the bane of my existence. Someone would ask, I would do a quick internal scan and then figure out which one of the answers I had capacity to share. The one I wanted to share was, “I have two daughters and one has passed.” Well…as you can imagine, based on the situation, this answer can be a buzz kill, a conversation shifter and a huge emotional burden for myself and others. I watched the way people processed my answer, looked at their faces, their discomfort and then had to figure out what to say next. I also had to choose who got the privilege of hearing my story (although this is a new learning for me). As someone who thrives on vulnerability, authenticity and love, I hated the feeling of dishonoring Kelsey and her short life. However, when I was feeling my most vulnerable, emotionally drained or just plain exhausted, the answer was “one. I have one”. I hated this lie, and how I felt saying it out loud. I now try and stay in congruency with who I am and share my truth when I can. I allow myself the grace to say what I need to say based on how I am feeling in that moment – that’s it...it’s a gametime decision. I am also sensitive to other’s experience and say instead, “tell me about your family, if you want to share.”
4. And finally – Grief is a road filled with many unexpected twists and turns. As someone who works in the field of people, growth and development, I am fascinated with understanding why we do what we do. Clients honor me with sharing their life experiences, pain and triumphs, and I believe that my grief journey has given me the capacity to love and show up for people in a way I never could before. I have spent the last 19 years exploring my journey and pain, and have been able to bring compassion to others as they wrestle with their pain. Throughout my voyage, I have had many companions show up to love and care for me in amazing ways. I would not be where I am without acknowledging that this ride begs for us to bring people in to help us heal. I am so grateful that I now have a support system, tools and words to express how I am feeling, what is showing up for me, and clarity on my purpose in the world.