What exactly is grief?
Grief is sadness and grief is pain. Grief is taking the memories that fill your brain and crying for both the special moments you shared, as well as the mundane. But what if you grieve for what never was and what never came to be? Grief that is longing for what we could not have and what we could not hold on to. Grief for the fleeting dreams that we so desperately wanted. On November 23, I began the lifelong grief that is losing a child. My sweet nephew was born with a rare genetic condition. He spent 8 days with us before my sister and brother in-law made the agonizing decision to turn off the medicine that was keeping his heart beating. When his heart stopped beating that day, a part of mine did too.
We were not ready.
My family was not prepared to let him go. No family ever is ever ready, but we were not equipped for a child to be born with a genetic condition. My sister and brother in-law have a toddler who is perfectly healthy. Being faced with the reality of a sick infant was shocking, confusing, and breathlessly painful. The doctors never suspected anything was wrong throughout my sister’s pregnancy and that unpreparedness has made the process of grieving that much more challenging. The feeling of powerlessness is an understatement. We had toys underneath the Christmas tree and a Christmas stocking with his name on it. I can only describe the helplessness as a wave that crashes down on you again and again. You are constantly pounded by another wave as you try to stand again.
In the face of such grief, nothing matters. Not brushing your hair, going to work, or any other normal life task. You just go through the motions of living and hope that there is a point where life matters again. Normal life though is gone and in its place is an empty shell of what life should have been like.
When you grieve for an adult, you grieve for the moments you shared. When you grieve for child, you grieve for the moments that will not come. First steps, first ice-cream cone, first car, first date, and all the puzzle pieces that snap together to create childhood and adolescence. Dreams that never came to fruition. For me, I grieve for the children my husband and I don’t yet have. Their playmate is gone, and they will also have to endure the burden of such a loss as they grow up.
There is a bench underneath my kitchen window, and I find myself sitting on the bench at night when the house is dark and silent. I stare out the window and I talk to my nephew. My neighbors across the field have their fences strung with Christmas lights and the colored displays hit my windowpane while I wonder if my nephew sees the shiny lights from heaven. I wonder who he would have been and I hope he has a warm blanket tucked around him as he sleeps on the clouds.
My family is different now and we are learning to live with a sadness that will never fully go away. I was so lucky to have met my nephew the day before the monitors were switched off. The hospital made an enormous exception during COVID to let us spend an afternoon with him. To me, the machines melted away and he was just a little boy being loved on by his aunts, uncles, and grandparents. He was awake, alert, and held my hand. Letting go of those 10 perfect fingers was the single most difficult moment of my life and I miss him every hour and every day.
How do you cope?
Grief is strange, grief is weird. If you find yourself grieving, please know that you are not alone. Also know that there is no right way to grieve. Grief can manifest itself in different ways and how you grieve is what’s right for you at that time. Having an amazing network of support has truly been our salvation. I can’t repay the kindness people have so selflessly shown my family. Know there’s love to be found in the sadness and that even though the pain becomes part of who you are, there are brighter and sunnier days ahead.
-xo
