Wave of Light Memorial Service October 2017

Sunday 15th October marked the end of Baby Loss Awareness Week. An amazing week where the topic of baby loss received great mainstream publicity. It really felt like the message for getting out there that we are not alone. This was also evident at the memorial service held at St Mary’s church in Banbury. Over 75 people came together to remember our babies and light a candle as part of the global Wave of Light. It was a very special service –  the first of its kind in Banbury. I spoke at this event what I hope was a message of hope for the future so here are my words for those of you who were unable to attend on the night.


I’m a survivor. I’m a survivor of baby loss and often I feel I wear that badge with a heavy heart. You see your world stops when you loose a baby. It slams into a wall with the full inertia of all your hopes and dreams, expectations and love you have for your baby. We loose a lot when we loose a baby.

Having children is the craziest, richest part of life. Full of highs and lows, it’s ridiculous and sublime, testing, fulfilling and purpose-giving. But for parents like us it is so much more – there is more pain, more sadness, more grief, more regret, more tragic memories, more difficult decisions regarding our babies, funerals, post mortems, spending time with them or not. We know how precious life is.

It is also less – less an entire person, the lifetime of the baby/child/adult that we lost, loss of friends, relationships, time, loss of innocence, loss of a sense of peace, loss of faith perhaps, loss of what could have been.

Those first days, weeks and months, even years can be a dark place, a lonely place, a frightening place. We gathered here today know all about those days. We recognize the weariness of those days, the longing for happier times, for joy. But we can feel robbed of turning our minds to the future when our hearts are in the past. Frozen in time, when the clocks stood still and we laid our babies to rest. The thought of turning forward, to hope, to plan, can feel like turning our backs on our babies, leaving them there as we move on. But I want to say to you today this is not true. We carry our babies in our hearts with us into the future. They are ever present, as we remember and honour them. Their future is with us and we must have a future.

When you lose a baby you do not lose the right to happiness, joy, purpose or fulfillment. Your future does not have to be ruined by your past even if your present still hurts like hell.

It is a truth for all of us here today that we can still go to lead joyful, happy, purposeful and fulfilled lives. It will take time and we survivors of baby loss will feel like it’s a fight for joy after loss. But it is possible.

I want to make you a promise today, wherever you are in your journey of grief, however long ago you lost your baby, you will find happiness and joy again. You will find hope. Fragile, wisp in the wind hope that will become stronger and clearer until you can grab hold of it to wear as armour as you forge ahead, your baby in your heart, to dare to hope for better days, a family, life again, a new normal.

#Wave of light

In the rich tapestry of life there is sadness and there is joy, there is anger, regret, excitement, anticipation. They all go hand in hand but for us, we can feel heavy and full with these emotions, thoughts and feelings.

I feel I’ve felt that full spectrum of those emotions, you see I’m now a mum looking after 2 children. Florence is only 5 months old, Poppy is nearly 5, and my oldest Evelyn would have been turning 6 at the end of this month had she lived. I’m like every other parent in the sense that I have children that I’m actively caring for and yet I am not like them. I am alone, separate, different, changed. I am a parent of a baby who died. Who has seen things, experienced and felt things, gone through things that most will never know.

So one of my fights is the joy of life with children, just as I fight to minimize the sadness. And even for parents like us there is joy to be had – not that I would have believed it for a long time after Evelyn’s death. The bittersweet quality of our lives is ever present. To begin with more bitter than sweet and we have to fight to swing that pendulum further away from the bitter and more towards the sweet. And what a fight it is. When you have had thoughts of ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save you’ about your own child everything else can pale into insignificance. But there is still joy to be had like the wonder of nature, a rowdy football match, time with friends, a favorite film watched on repeat or a personal best at the gym; we don’t want to be robbed of that too, to loose that too.

Also I think some of being a parent after loss is having to fight for the right be a ‘normal’ parent who is tested and gets tired and gets annoyed at their children and who gets down from time to time from the daily grind of family life. It can feel complicated when you are faced with the normal challenges of parenthood when you’ve lost a baby.

For me, honesty time, I’m finding it hard having a 5 month old and a 4 year old, juggling their different needs, lack of sleep or time for myself, worrying I’m doing a good job. But for me, it’s really hard to admit to myself that I’m finding it hard. Harder to admit to others that I’m finding it hard and hardest of all to admit to you fine folk that I find it hard.

You see I don’t want to appear in any way to be ungrateful for having these children with me. I know how lucky I am to be doing this at all. I know how I longed to be looking after a baby after I lost Evelyn. I would have given anything to be up all night with a baby crying. And yet I’m finding it hard. I found our recent holiday hard – juggling a beach day with heat and a very fussy baby who wouldn’t feed well and a four year old who wanted to go rock pool exploring and got grumpy with tiredness and hunger.

But all this can reside side by side – being grateful to be a parent but finding the challenge of it difficult. Feeling excruciatingly sad that our baby died but also fantastically happy and joyful at a first word, first day of school, first dance. All this is life, real life. It’s ok to feel overwhelmed by the very thing you longed for. It’s ok to laugh and feel joy even though you lost your baby. It’s ok to embrace life and look to the future. Take you babies, nestle them safe in your hearts and look to the future and see what wonderful things come of it. We all stand together, bravely piecing our lives back together, we understand our loss, we understand our fight for joy.

Until next time, do what you can to find your smile

x

 

Advertisements

The pursuit of Happiness: Grievers guide

When we have such a enormous dollop of grief to deal with it can often feel like you will never be happy again – never see the silly side of life or be able to smile and seem carefree. For a while this may indeed be true, but you have to cling onto the hope that you will, one day, feel better and you will be able to smile again and enjoy life – this new life.

But getting back to when things are much harder… Being and feeling happy when you also feel so sad is intolerable. Your mind cannot compute how you can hold such despair, sadness, anger and hopelessness in one hand and laugh or feel joy in the other. It is a skill in its own right. Never before (potentially) have we had to do this – carry the weight of grief and continue with our every day lives where funny things happen, joy is given by one of your living children or a work colleague or something on the tv. Some of the main questions we have are:

  • How can I laugh when my baby has died?
  • Does this mean I don’t care about my baby?
  • Will other people think I don’t care or have ‘gotten over it’?
  • How can I be a good parent/human being if I laugh when something so tragic has happened?

And the answers are:

  • Because it was funny! You have a sense of humour that has not been lost in the fire (as it were) you are still you and certain things will make you laugh. It’s good to laugh – makes you feel good and gets the endorphins coursing through our veins – much needed at times of deep sorrow.
  • MOST IMPORTANTLY you are NOT laughing at the fact your baby died. and no one will think you are; it is a given that you care deeply for your baby. Laughing at something and your baby dying are separate things and this will take time to get used to, you will get there. You can see it in terms of your baby would want you to feel joy – like they felt when they were with you, warm, no cares in the world – loved. They would want that for you and you should want that for yourself.
  • OK firstly – who care what anyone else thinks? They haven’t got a clue what you are going through and have no right to judge, so screw them. If they are true friends they will not judge you but support you (and probably laugh along with you). But, if you’re like me… I do care what other people think about my love for Evie. I can’t demonstrate it like I can for my other daughter – it is evident I love her by the way I care for her every day. But with Evie how can I show my love? Well by grieving – crying alot, declaring my love for her on facebook, in texts, on my blog, helping other to come to terms with their own grief…but mainly it is hidden. It’s in my heart and it resides in a very personal and private space. And that can be hurtful and upsetting that we cannot outwardly demonstrate our love for our baby without it being a ‘down’ emotion – sadness/anger/despair/depression. Our great challenge as bereaved parents it to demonstrate our love in positive ways – ideas on a postcard please!
  • COMPASSION – is the buzzword here. Ask yourself, what will it achieve if I beat myself up about laughing or feeling happy? It will make you feel guilty, low, worthless and undermine your self-esteem – and what’s the good in that? Be kind to yourself and forgive any ‘sins’ as you might see them. Your worth as a human and as a parent are NOT linked to whether you laugh of not, how well you cope with your loss and how well you outwardly or inwardly grieve your baby.
The pursuit of happiness starts from the inside out.
The pursuit of happiness starts from the inside out.

Perhaps when you start to emerge from the fog of grief (this can be a different length of time for each of us) and you can say you feel a little more clear-headed and ‘normal’ then it may be time to ask yourself this question:

Who is in charge of my happiness?

The perhaps not so obvious answer is: YOU.

You are in charge of your own happiness

This is something I find very difficult to fathom. I think for a few years I wanted someone else to take responsibility for it – it was too hard. By deciding it was my family, my husband, my friends’ job to make me happy it meant I could blame someone else when I was not happy or content, thin enough, successful enough. To admit and accept I am my own master of my own happiness is a whole lot of grown up that I’m not sure I’m ready for.

I think this is especially pertinent to bereaved parents of babies. We rail at the pure injustice of what has happen – and someone has to pay! Sometimes we direct our focus on the NHS, care givers, friends who weren’t ‘there’ for us, parents who didn’t understand us or said the wrong things, partners who didn’t get our demonstrations of grief, and if in doubt you always focus blame on yourself.

This is sometimes a very necessary short-term phase that we have to go to – we are dealing with some big stuff here and it takes time to work it out – how do I function and lead a fulfilling life after the death of my baby? This is no small question.

The problem arises when this short-term strategy becomes habit and part of your ‘new normal’ (I’ll talk about this in another post). We can actually start to become the main obstacle in our own happiness which is good for no-one.

There’s a great article on Psychology Today which talks about why we don’t let ourselves be happy. They list 5 main reasons:

  1. It disrupts our sense of identity
  2. It challenges our defences
  3. It causes us anxiety
  4. It stirs up guilt
  5. It forces us to face pain

Each one on the list resonates with me and here’s how:

  1. Having Evie and my grief for her death is a part of my identity now. Being Evie’s mummy is very positive and should be part of who I am now but the mechanisms and strategies I developed to help me grieve may have welded to me and harming rather than helping me. But they feel like they are a part of who I am and I feel like my identity has been battered over the last few years – who am I now? I a huge question I’ve asked myself (I’ll talk about that in another blog post). So it feels scary to shrug off what appears to be a part of me.
  2. I had developed defences through my life to cope with situations and people, which is entirely normal. Losing Evie made those defences kick-in in the extreme – my need for control and protecting my own vulnerability from people who may say something that upsets me. But these defences could now be becoming detrimental to my happiness rather than helping me survive…something to think about.
  3. If I let go and enjoy myself, it feels like I’m leaving myself more vulnerable to hurt, loss, and disappointment. If I have more happiness because I’m more fulfilled then I have more to lose. It’s very scary when you have already lost so much.
  4. Feeling happy now can make me feel guilty that I’m not where I was 2/3 years ago. If I cling to those sad times I feel I’m closer to Evie, in those sad times I was closer to her in chronological time but I need to get my head around being close to her now in other ways. It’s difficult to see the time your baby was physically here and with you slipping away – you feel distant from them. I do still feel close to her but just not in time but that’s ok, just.
  5. Being happy now in the present is such a contrast to the sorrow I felt in the first months and year when Evie died that actually feeling an extreme high of happiness can be a stark contrast to that sad time and make me feel upset. It’s upsetting to remember when I was so sad and hopeless and to see the difference in me now can actually be really hard to see. As the article infers feeling more of anything means you feel everything more. You feel your pain of loss but you can also feel joy; trying to block out pain blocks out all emotions not just to difficult ones. I want to try and be brave to face my pain so I can feel joy too. Now what tends to often happen is we have a lovely day with Poppy and family and then in the evening I may have a cry because it emphasises that Evie wasn’t there to share it and I wasn’t able to enjoy these moments with her – it still is heartbreaking.

For the full article please read: Psychology Today: 5 reasons we don’t let ourselves be happy

As ever I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic and find out how you’ve deal with these issues, please ‘like’ and comment.

Until next time, do what you can to find your smile again

Lydia

x