Grief as a Parent.

I recently posted about the Canberra Hospital that held a beautiful service for parents whose babies died before 20 weeks gestation. The ceremony seemed to be planned very deliberately, with much love and care, and with the end result of truly assisting the families with their bereavement.

As I’ve said before, grief is an unrelenting beast for anyone, but especially for parents. Fitting rituals at the right time can assist in the deepest way in bereavement.

I will write more about the details of the ceremony mentioned below and the way it came about and evolved on another day. For now, I leave you with the words of a Mother in grief…

“It’s been three months since the lovely Jo asked me to write this blog post; three whole months of pondering, wondering, procrastinating and just plain avoiding. Now that in and of itself probably tells you a lot about my experience with grief and loss, but it certainly doesn’t tell you everything.

Nearly three years ago, my wonderful husband Chris and I found out we were pregnant. Six weeks later and at 8 weeks pregnant, we said goodbye to our first child after a miscarriage in the middle of the night, in the midst of a chaotic emergency department. A year later and almost to the day, we then had to say goodbye to our second child following yet another miscarriage. This time we were nearly 11 weeks pregnant, and I ended up in hospital for a week afterwards due to complications. I look back now, and whilst the physical toll on my body can be somewhat explained or understood with relative ease, I still find myself at a complete loss for words to describe the toll both miscarriages had on every single other aspect of my life.

As someone who works in mental health, I thought I had at least some understanding / comprehension of grief. And yes, whilst I may have indeed had an understanding of grief from a text book / clinical perspective, my understanding of grief as a wife, mother, and just as a human was incredibly limited. No amount of reading text books, or work with clients could have prepared me for:

• The sheer depth and range of my grief, and its absolute all-encompassing and all-consuming nature.

• How completely and utterly broken I would feel, and how unable I would be to actually articulate that to anyone else (let alone myself).

• The heartbreaking guilt that I would feel on so many levels. Guilt for my perceived failure not only as a wife and as a woman, but also as a daughter, daughter-in-law, friend, and even as an employee.

• How little I felt able to help myself, let alone Chris in the depths of his grief and loss.

• The non-linear and seemingly nonsensical nature of my grief, and its complexity.

• The time, effort and sheer bloody hard work it would take to even begin to start to process what had happened to not just myself, but Chris and I as a couple and what that would mean for us moving forward.

I used to think that grief was like this obstacle in your path that you just had to work around. I know now however, that that is most definitely not the case. Grief is not something you simply work around; but rather something you work through. Resisting and avoiding the guilt, heartache, grief and pain might help in the short term; but not so much in the long term. There was no single thing that someone said to me; no particular event, no session with my psychologist, and certainly no specific 2am fitful daze that helped me to realise this. Instead, I think it was all of those things together, intermixed with the passage of time.

Nearly two years after our first miscarriage and still very much in the depths of grief, I remember waking up one day and thinking that something had to change. That something had to give, and that Chris and I had to do something to start to try and actually work through our grief instead of going around it. To this day, I still don’t know specifically what pushed us to get in contact with Jo and to start the process of organising a ceremony / ritual for our babies. All I know is that it felt like the right thing to do, and the right time to do it. So, in February of this year, we met with Jo at one of our most treasured places on this planet to hold space, and have a ceremony for our babies.

There are no words to express just how powerful that ceremony was for Chris and I. It finally gave us the chance to not only to say goodbye to our babies and honour their lives; but to also give thanks that we had the chance to be their parents. It was also an opportunity for us to gain some closure – not to move on from our children, but more to serve as a landmark for the next stage of our lives, and also for the next stage of their existence.

Of the many things that I have learnt about Chris, myself, and our relationship whilst navigating grief and loss (something that we are still very much in the process of to this day), perhaps the two most profound things are these:

• Our capacity to love infinitely and so deeply is equal parts terrifying and also incredibly astounding.

• Our resilience and strength not just as individuals, but as a couple is a force to be reckoned with; even in what seems like the darkest of times.

For those that are or have been in similar situations to Chris and myself, please know this –although it may not seem like it right this second, you will absolutely get through this. If you are at the stage where you are ready to go through your grief, rather than around it, then firstly, kudos to you - that is no small thing, and no small feat.

Secondly, there is no one-size fits all approach to working through grief and loss such as this; it’s like putting together a puzzle where just-the-right-pieces need to fit together to make a whole. What helps and works for some, may not be the case for others. For us, a crucial piece of starting to put our puzzle together was having an ally in Jo, and actively making use of the process of ritual and ceremony. But, whilst this has played a significant part in how Chris and I are going through our grief for our babies, this may not be the case for you, and that is absolutely more than OK. At the end of the day, you are the expert in your own grief and in working through this in a way that meets you, your partner’s and your beloved’s needs.

Thirdly, what helps and works for you and your partner one day, may not work the next, and that too is more than OK. That said, I can promise you that kindness, self-compassion and time definitely go a long way to helping, and they really are your friends.

Finally, whilst I may not know a lot of things in this world, I do absolutely know this one thing for certain – in every breath hope abides, and there is always, always a way through.”

Thank you, R & C for your eagerness to share, your kind and caring hearts and your ability to be so vulnerable. You sharing your story fills my eyes with tears and my heart with a beautiful ache. Much love always.

Written by Jo Lincolne, Celebrant & Grief Counsellor of Big Love Ceremonies, based in Brisbane, QLD.