Tag Archives: grief

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir

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This book is heavy and complicated and stunning. There are some trigger warnings, which the author includes at the beginning of the book. Some of them are abuse, sexual assault, and prejudice. It doesn’t get detailed or graphic, but you know what is happening, and you go through the journey with the characters as they come to terms with them.

The two main characters, Sal and Noor, are seniors in high school. Sal is an amazing writer who lives with his parents at the motel that they run. His mother is sick and his father is an alcoholic and their motel is not doing well. Noor lives with her uncle after her entire family dies in an earthquake in Pakistan. While she wants to study to be a doctor, her uncle would rather she stay at home and work in his liquor store.

The book switches between each of their points of view and also Sal’s mother, Misbah, who has a few chapters dedicated to her history and perspective. It deals with so many different kinds of loss and the way people deal with it. The writing is fluid between the different points of view, which keeps the pacing steady as you move from one twist to another. Even when things are revealed, they are not tied up neatly.

It’s really easy to get invested in the characters, even to the point of frustration in their choices. While the ending does bring closure, it is messy and complicated which makes it more real. Noor’s character arc is difficult and my favorite as she deals with abuses in her life, including prejudice at school being an immigrant. The way she comes to terms with different aspects in her life in her own time is really beautiful.

I also liked how faith played a part in all of their lives. They spoke about prayer and faith and how it played a part in their culture and family. It was fascinating to learn about the Muslim faith and how imperfect and yet steady it could be in their lives. This coming of age story is definitely a great recommendation for teen and young adult audiences with the trigger warnings that were mentioned.

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The Light of the World: a memoir by Elizabeth Alexander

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This book is both a beautiful, heartbreaking journey of grief and a celebration of the love.  It’s an intimate look at the sudden loss of her husband and yet so relatable to anyone who has lost someone they love. Her ability to harness language and imagery through poetry translates throughout this book, even though this book is mostly written in prose.

The book is separated into parts, almost thought pieces, not necessarily in chronological order, but instead in the wild process of grief. We walk through that grief with her as she remembers how they met, the moments and days leading up to his death, and the aftermath of finding his body after he passed. She moves backwards and forwards in time which can be a little disorienting at times, but very accurate in the way the brain processes the pain of loss.

The imagery of smells and tastes were especially evocative because her husband was a chef but also because these senses connect with memory so strongly. She shares a couple of recipes in the book as well, ones that shared a part of who her husband was, giving the reader a chance to connect with this man that she loved. She also talks about his paintings, but the book doesn’t include any of them, which I wish it had, especially the one she references towards the end, Visitation, which you can google.

There are also books he read, music he listened, especially all the last things he did, frozen in this time capsule that honors him. It is a work of grief, and an accurate portrayal of it in different mediums and timelines, moving back and forth between talking to the reader to talking to her husband. It is intimate and raw and beautiful. An excellent book for anyone who has loved and lost, or who knows someone who has loved and lost recently.

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Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month: Stillbirth 2014

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This is the third part of the story of my first stillbirth in November 2014. The First and Second parts are linked in this sentence, but this was probably the most comprehensive and cohesive post of the three.

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Annual Reflections: Grief

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As we come to the end of 2020, as with any year, it’s important to look back, embrace the year for what it was, learn from it, and look ahead into the future. Usually, by this point in the year, I already have some idea of direction, plans, goals for the coming year. But this year, I got nothing. Which, if you know me, is really uncharacteristic of me. So, I want to use this time to delve into how this year has impacted me, what I’ve learned, and any glimmer into the year to come.

This year has been hard. For everyone. There has been so much loss. Loss of loved ones, friends, jobs, routines, relationships, plans, trips, dreams. Everyone had to pivot when the pandemic came, some more than others. No matter how you feel about COVID-19 or wearing masks or social distancing, in some way you were affected. And it wasn’t just the pandemic. Social justice, political division, protests, riots. Our world has been in a steady panic attack, one right after another. There is even a term for the numbness you feel after being bombarded with so much, COVID fatigue.

The truth is, we have been collectively and individually going through grief. The denial that all of this would go away in the summer or by the end of the year. The bargaining for answers and quick fixes. The anger. The depression. Even some resigned acceptance. The stages have all been there.

Of course, the Bible embraces the act of grieving. There is an entire book called Lamentations. The psalms are full of grieving verses.

For my life is spent with sorrow, and my years with sighing; my strength fails because of my iniquity, and my bones waste away.

Psalm 31:10

How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Psalm 13:2

Of course, God can handle our grief. In much of the Bible, it says we can cast our cares on him, that he will lift us up. Even in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus talks about those who mourn will be comforted. Grief is not a sign of a lack of faith, but it is an open acknowledgement that this world is indeed broken and in need of God’s healing.

So, before I move on to growth (which will be next week’s topic), I need to grieve. I grieve the lack of travel, less time with loved ones, the impossibility to go to funerals or say last goodbyes in person. I grieve the new uncertainties of school rhythms, seasonal rhythms, community gatherings. I grieve the simple shopping trips, spontaneous family outings, fun indoor kid activities, dance classes at the gym. I grieve the halted traditions of holidays, the hard conversations with loved ones about why we aren’t visiting, the added efforts to keep our kid connected to his extended family. I grieve not being on the same page with everyone, having to explain why we continue to worship from home and attend gatherings exclusively online, knowing that others made different choices. I grieve being able to go on social media without walking away confused, frustrated, and depressed.

This season is hard, even in the most normal of years, but it is especially hard this year. And I want to acknowledge that. If you are grieving right now in whatever capacity, please know that you are not alone. And I pray you feel the presence of God and lean on him, knowing he is walking with you through it all.

A Personal Note For The Weekend

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Oh my goodness, you guys. This week has been a crazy year, hasn’t it? I remember joking that January seemed to go on forever, but then came COVID-19 and quarantine, and now peaceful protests and violent encounters happening every day across our country.

In the midst of everything, my uncle passed away this week.

I don’t talk much about my extended family, or really a whole lot about my family in general since the birth of my son. I wasn’t exactly close to my uncle. Growing up, I saw him for only a couple of days a year around Christmas. He used to make the best manicotti on Christmas Eve.

Even though I wasn’t very close to him, I know my family is hurting. This is my dad’s younger brother. My grandmother and my uncle’s two adult children are having to make difficult decisions this week, and I can’t be there in person to support them. Though I am supporting all of them from afar through phone calls, texts, and Zoom. It’s all just still very difficult.

Grief is weird. We grieve pretty much any time there is change or transition in our life. And there are a lot of people grieving right now for so many reasons. There is so much pain and sadness, that I feel tempted to put my own grief on the back burner to focus on others.

But the funny thing about grief is that it really doesn’t let you do that. When it needs attention, it demands it. I’ve felt that weight this week, physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s affected my ability to carry out every aspect of my life.

So, I’m going back to the basics this weekend of making sure I have space to grieve loss, grieve with others, and still manage to do the day to day (I mean, I’ve still got a toddler running around here, I can’t let it go to total chaos). I’m still committed to learning and listening. That’s not going to stop. So I’m taking the opportunity to slow down, to pay attention to what needs to be done right now and to listen to where God is leading me next.

What To Do When She is Pregnant, and You Are Not

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I hesitate to write this post because, full disclosure, I have people in my life who are pregnant right now, and I didn’t want them to feel like I was singling them out or directing this post towards them in any way.  But, coincidentally, I’ve had a lot of conversations with friends who are in the trenches of pregnancy loss and infertility who are met with this dilemma (without even knowing my own situation), and the conversations that I’ve had with them have been so helpful, eye-opening, and uplifting that I feel like I want to share.

PreggoFriends

Because it’s not normal to hear that a new, precious life is coming into this world and respond to it with grief.  And we, as the women of pregnancy loss, get that.  We want to be happy.  We want to feel nothing but joy and excitement for what is coming.  But sometimes that is difficult because it means that time is moving on, and it’s a reminder that our precious babies are not here with us.  And we wonder if we will ever get to experience this same joy.

So, here are some things that I’ve learned from conversations with others as well as through my own journey.

  1. It’s okay to not be okay.  I feel like there is this desire to just get over it and “act normal” for those people we love and care about.  But being honest with yourself and with your friends and family is paramount to your health and the health of your relationships
  2. It’s okay to have boundaries.  You do not have to go to that baby shower.  You do not have to inundate yourself with social media pictures and updates of belly shots. You already know at least some of your limitations, and communicating that to people who love you will help in the long run
  3. It’s okay to challenge yourself.  But even if you don’t go to that baby shower, I challenge you to still get them a gift or send them a card.  I would invite you to pray for them, or even ask them for specific prayers about their pregnancy.  Don’t just lock yourself away from everything, because there is a baby coming, and that is something to be excited about.
  4. It’s okay to seek help.  I see a therapist.  I have since about 10 months after my first daughter died.  I found a therapist that specializes in pregnancy and infant loss, having experienced it herself, but that may not always be available in your area.  Try at least one session.  Or at the very, very least find a good, supportive forum.  There are private Facebook groups and groups on several sites where women go for support.  They have been helpful to me on advice as well.

Dear pregnant friends, please be patient with us.  We are not going to go about this perfectly.  We may mess up and say the wrong thing or have a response to something that you weren’t expecting.  Know that we love you and we love this sweet new little one coming into the world.  We are just terrified of our own grief at times, at the unexpectedness of it all.  I’ve had reactions to milestones in other people’s pregnancies that I had no idea would affect me so much.

I am pretty lucky to have very aware friends and family who have supported me over the last four years of our pregnancy loss journey.  But I know that this isn’t true for a lot of women in my life, and I wanted to reach out and let them know that they are not alone.

 

3 Ways To Survive the Holidays

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We lost our first daughter the day before Thanksgiving two years ago.  After our loss, we went straight into the holidays.  I remember how difficult that first holiday was, trying to navigate through grief and the holiday season.  Just like every other holiday season, I wanted to create memories and honor traditions, but it didn’t feel the same with the loss. All of the traditions and rituals were a reminder of what was missing.

I know a lot of people who are navigating their first holiday season without someone they love, and I wanted to share with you three things that I have learned that have helped me.

We all need space.  It is important especially during this busy season to remember to create space in your week for some self-care.  It may take a bit of planning and a bit of trying different things, but taking the time to care for yourself before immersing yourself in the chaos of the holidays can really help.  Just like in the airplane talk before takeoff, you must put the oxygen mask on your first before helping others.  Maybe it’s keeping a journal and carving out some time in your day to write.  Maybe it’s taking a hot bath one night a week.  Or maybe it’s a designated time for coffee with a trusted friend.  Whatever it is that will help you take moments of oxygen, create some space for it.

We need to take it at our own pace.  I remember that first year wishing that I could just take the grief, put it on a shelf, and resume the happy holidays.  But grief always seemed to find it’s way back into my arms when I least expected it, and at the most inopportune times.  I would compare myself to others who were grieving, some who seemed to be grieving more and some who seemed to have moved on with ease.  Of course, I didn’t know their whole story, and comparing myself to anyone for anything never helps.  I needed to be okay with where I was in my own grief, and be okay with voicing my needs when I was ready to do so.  Embracing it makes it a little easier to walk through grief.

We need to give ourselves grace.  Even though I’ve learned a lot about myself over the last two years, and a lot about grieving, I don’t have it all figured out.  I still have my breakdown moments, hours or days.  I still don’t know what to ask for at times. Sometimes I know what I need but I’m still afraid to ask.  The best I can do is realize that I’m still learning every day.  Learning about grief.  Learning about myself.  And giving myself the grace to be okay to make mistakes.  Learn from them.  And keep growing.

Navigating the holidays can be difficult for a lot of reasons.  I’m thankful that my community has given me the grace and space to grow through this process and allow me to move at my own pace.  And I’m thankful that God continues to walk with me on this journey through grief even during the holidays.

What The Holidays Are Like

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The Christmas season (which starts with Thanksgiving in my opinion) is probably my favorite time of the year.  There are bright colors, happy songs, and presents.  And my love language is Gifts, so any holiday season that includes giving and receiving of gifts is top notch.

But this is also a time of year that is hard for a lot of people.  Maybe it’s someone who has passed away this year.  Maybe it’s a job that was lost or financial struggles.  Maybe it was a relationship that was broken.

I’ve been reflecting on how this Thanksgiving has been for me and I wanted to share with you a little window into what I’ve learned about grief this year.

I learned that grief manifests in different ways.  In the moment, I didn’t even identify it as grief, but it was.  Everything was heightened.  There were moments I felt depressed and anxious.  I felt guilty when I wanted to be alone when I felt overwhelmed or when I wasn’t very social.  I got to see a lot of my family that I don’t get to see very much, but a lot of the time, I didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation.  I’m so thankful for my family who has been praying and is so understanding.  Despite myself, we had such great visits with everyone.

My feelings were raw and exposed. There were moments of anger.  In fact, Michael and I had a very lively disagreement (ok, a fight) towards the end of the week that we worked through with grace and a whole lot of listening to each other (of course, this was days after the fight happened, but it was a process).  We definitely grew as people and closer to each other.  It was uncomfortable and hard, but I’m very blessed to have a man who is willing to work through the hard and uncomfortable.

I also learned that grief triggers in different ways.  I learned that young infants crying are a serious trigger for me during these heightened days of grief.  Somewhere along the line, Michael learned that too.  One day this month, we were somewhere and a baby started crying.  Michael was across the room, but he stopped what he was doing and looked at me (we were doing different things at the time).  I nodded to him, and we left shortly after.  Someday, I hope that this won’t be as triggering as I really do love babies, but for now, it is.  So we are just aware of our limitations.

Last year, we were just grieving the first anniversary of my first daughter’s stillbirth, and the days leading up to it were harder than the actual day, itself.  This year, the anniversaries were harder.  Wednesday morning, the day before Thanksgiving was my second daughter’s due date.  When I woke up that morning, that was the first thought that entered my head.  I felt it.  I cried in the shower that morning.  That Saturday was the second stillbirth day of my first daughter.  I cried that day, too, which surprised me.  I wasn’t as ready for that as I thought I would be.

I learned that it’s okay to have conflicting feelings at the same time, which I talked about in the video I posted the Friday after Thanksgiving.

I had moments of happiness as we built memories together just as much as I was sad that my daughters weren’t there physically with me in those memories.

The biggest lesson I took away from this experience is that I’m not alone.  I have amazing people willing to walk through the hard stuff with me and extend grace and space when I need it.  Even when I fear the wind and the waves, God is still right there with me.  I can be in my grief and still say I am blessed.

Grief, Loss, and Thanksgiving (Part 4)

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I’ve been sitting, looking at the blinking cursor in front of me for a little while.  I have so many words to say, and yet, none at all.  A year ago, I found out I was no longer pregnant. I went into the hospital and gave birth to my stillborn baby girl.

I do want to take a moment to acknowledge some of the blessings I’ve experienced this month leading up to this week.  I’m thankful for a husband who does his amazing best to be there for me in the sad moments.  I’m thankful for random, loving texts from friends and family.  I’m thankful for a church community and a workplace that surround me with love.  I’m thankful for the SPCA who allow me to use their dogs for my own brand of therapy.  I’m thankful for my own dogs who shower me with kisses and snuggles just when I need it.

I have no idea how the rest of this week will go, but right now that doesn’t matter.  What matters is taking the next step, breathing the next breath, and living the next moment.  I don’t think I’m going to write again this week.  I want to give myself some time to just focus on the present. So, Happy Thanksgiving.  I am so thankful for all of you.