I WAS ONCE YOU

By Colleen Fledderman, Newtown Square, PA, Bereaved Mother

I have never met Christa McCaulife's mom, Carlie Brucia’s mother, Nicole Brown Simpson’s mother, Polly Klass’s mother, Princess Dianna’s mother, Carolyn Bessette Kennedy’s mother, Laci Peterson’s mother. But I know them all intimately. I know what dwells in their hearts and souls everyday. Like them I buried my daughter.

What am I now? Am I a daughterless mother? That sounds like an oxymoron, two words that contradict themselves. My eighteen year old daughter, Amy Marie, died on May 25, 2001. My life is forever changed. Burying a daughter is a surreal experience.

There are no words in Webster’s Dictionary that can explain the grief, the heartache, the pain, the depression or the anguish. Heartbroken is too small a word. The words don’t exist because it is not supposed to happen. There are no plausible definitions that could accurately describe “bereaved parent.” Groups of words can’t be strung together on a typed page to accurately explain the grief. It is impossible to bury your child, yet it happened.

Logically, the factual part of my brain processed the information. The emotional part of my brain argues with the fact everyday. Each and every morning it is still a shock to my entire being! I still peek into her bedroom and expect to find her perfectly made bed a mess of jumbled covers with my daughter snuggled deep inside of them. Parents don’t bury children! Headstones read “loving mother,” “cherished wife.” They don’t read “beloved daughter.” That is not the natural order of the universe. This was not supposed to happen to me. It always happens to other people.

I see reports on the evening news, articles in the newspaper describing horrible events that resulted in the death of someone’s child. It isn’t supposed to be my child. How can this be? It can’t be changed. I can’t say, “Amy, want to go to the mall?” “Let’s go out to lunch.” She can’t tell me about her “freaking bio test” that she has to study for all night long.

Things I want to say to her are forever left unspoken. How will I go on? I can’t go on, yet I do. My body wakes up each day. I don’t ask for this to happen, it just does. My lungs take in air, it is automatic, something that I have no control over. My physical body now controls the course of events in my life. I breath, I eat, I walk, I talk, I put one foot in front of the other. I load the washer and shop for food. I can work. I can teach. I can think on the job about the job. My spiritual being merely exists. It cannot flourish or soar ever again.

When my daughter died, my emotional self was buried with her. When she died, I also buried her future husband to be, my future grandchildren, my daughter’s future wedding, my daughter’s college graduation ceremony, my holiday, my joy. I buried my best friend. I buried the once perfect life that I knew and lived everyday. Tucked into the corner of Amy’s casket is my happy husband. My despondent bereaved husband now lives with me. I buried my fifteen year old daughter’s future matron of honor. I buried Renee’s future nieces and nephews. There is not enough room in Amy’s casket for all the things that died with her. Dreams, hopes, joys, lives, emotions, hearts and souls slipped into that casket with Amy. They occupy every square inch of that place. One day my fifteen year old daughter will be older than her older sister. Can my brain every understand that? Renee will have a nineteenth birthday. Amy did not. How can the impossible happen?

Bereaved parents go on. We go on because we have no other road to travel. It is just we are not “normal” anymore. We used to be you. We used to be the PTO moms and the Girl Scout leaders. We brought lovely frilly fancy holiday dresses for our daughters. We were once carpool moms and soccer moms. We sat at musical recitals and listened to the first melodious squeaks and squawks of their instruments. Forgotten homework assignments were rushed to school for our children. In our heads we planned our beautiful daughter’s future wedding. Vision of the bridal gown and the reception danced in our heads. We couldn’t wait to have grandchildren and baby-sit and enjoy. We wanted to tell our daughters that their children were just like them. Our daughter’s christening gown is carefully preserved and awaiting to be worn by her own children. We wanted to hold our grandchildren’s chubby little fingers in our hands and remember holding our daughters chubby little fingers in our hand.

We used to answer the telephone and hear, “Hey mom, what’s up?” Now the phone doesn’t ring. And it will never ring again with that sweet voice we so desperately would love to hear. Now we are set apart. We are not normal anymore. People choose to walk down a different aisle to ignore us. It is too painful for them to think about our lives. They might take a moment to wonder how we go on. They say, “I can only imagine your pain.” That is not true. No one can imagine it unless they live it. We now belong to a new group. We never wanted to be a part of this group, bereaved parents. No one lines up for this membership. We wish our membership would never grow.

I am glad you are not me.

Grief can strengthen parents relationships

Despite old rumors that relationships can't survive the death of a child, recent studies indicate just the opposite. A recent study shows that the death of a child actually appears to draw bereaved parents together as they travel life's grief journey." (Source: "When a Child Dies" - survey for The Compassionate Friends Inc, October 2006).

This is good news, but don't misunderstand - staying together isn't something that is necessarily easy.. Without question, staying together takes a lot of effort on both sides and in many different ways. However, there are some common areas that can be worked on to help ensure that despite the tragedy you are facing, your relationship will strengthen - not fall apart...

Communication. This is perhaps the most important area. Keep talking - tell each other how you feel, listen to what the other person says, express your love for each other regularly. When you feel that sharp stabbing pain of loss - tell your partner. When you remember something about your child - tell your partner. When you have found something encouraging or caring that someone has said - tell your partner. And when your partner tells you something - listen (and show that you really are listening)!

Give each other space. This may seem strange in the light of the comments above. One of the things many couples find in the weeks and months after their child's death is that they couldn't always be the support that the other person needed. Yes there will be those times when one of you is up and the other is down and so the one who is “up” can give the love and care that was needed. But when you are both down, and that will happen, neither of you may be strong enough to provide the support needed, and that’s when tensions become more evident and you have to give each other a few minutes' space. Often times taking a short 'time out' is helpful and can help make your relationship stronger.

Recognise your differences. You are both different people and will grieve in different ways. What is important to one person may seem trivial to the other. It is vital that you each recognise the other person's views and needs as being valid. Don't think that because they aren't acting in the same way or holding the same opinion as you that they didn't love your child as much.

Remain affectionate. The area of sexual intimacy is one where needs and desires may vary. Charlotte M Mathes, a psychoanalyst and member of the American Association of Marriage and Family Therapists, expresses the difference between men and women very helpfully - "Commonly, men feel loved when they feel they are valued. Women feel love when they are shown compassion. Sex plays a very unique role with each gender. Men often need sex to feel loved by their wife while women may feel that sex is wrong after such a loss, but their need to touch may become more prominent." Try to remain affectionate, reassure each other of your love. Be patient with each other - you will in time find a place again for the physical side of your relationship.

Don't blame each other. Anger is a natural part of grieving, but it is important not to aim that anger at your partner. You may at times find that you are more easily hurt by insensitive words, so do take extra care that the phrases you use to each other don't convey blame. Phrases such as "I feel sad when you ..." (said gently) rather than "you really upset me when you..." (said in a harsher tone) can avoid aggravating raw emotions and provide better paths to good communication.

Seek outside help. For both of you, being able to talk to someone who isn't so closely involved, who will understand and listen, can be a real help. This might be a close friend, a support group such as Journey from Mourning, Compassionate Friends, Bereaved Parents' Network, your minister, priest or rabbi, a professional counsellor or your doctor. It is important that you both have someone you can turn to. Women often finder it easier to talk, but for men this can be a challenge, but most parents find that being able to turn to someone they trust was a real life-saver.

There are no quick fixes. But in time you will find yourselves more able to cope and even to laugh and find ways of enjoying life together again. Be assured that your relationship can survive and can grow even stronger!

Helping Yourself When Your Child Has Died – Part 2 of 2

~ by Charles A. Corr, Ph.D  _ Continued from our posting on June 11th, 2011...

DRAW STRENGTH FROM OTHER BEREAVED PARENTS - Bereaved parents often report that other parents who lost children were their most effective helpers. “They knew the pain. They knew what to say and what not to say.” It may help you to seek out a local support group for bereaved parents by asking for referrals from a funeral home, hospice program or a religious institution in your area.

FOCUS ON YOUR CHILD’S LEGACY - Many parents have found it helpful to concentrate not only on what they have lost, but also on what their child has meant and continues to mean to them. They reflect on how their child enriched their lives. You can do this by thinking about the special place and meaning your child holds for you. Your life is richer because your child lived.

Your relationship with your child will now be different – that is the hard fact resulting from death. However, your child will always have a place in your heart – that will never change. Even though your child is no longer alive, you can still love that child for as long as you live. Loving in separation is no less real than loving in presence.  Your child helped to make you who you now are in your life’s journey. The legacy of your child can still help you grow; it can continue to have profound effects in your own life and in the lives of those around you.

COMMEMORATING YOUR CHILD’S LIFE - You can commemorate the life of your child in many ways. Some parents write brief poems or short stories, while others compose a journal of memories, create a garden, make a charitable donation, or establish a scholarship in their child’s memory.

Other parents commemorate the life of their child by buying or making a special present on their child’s birthday, holidays or other gift-giving occasions. They then donate the present in the memory of their child to a poor youngster or to a charity. In this and other ways, you can maintain an important connection with your child and keep his or her memory and legacy alive in your own life.  You can often help yourself best by accepting support and love from those who love you and who knew and loved your child, as well as by helping others who turn to you for support and love.

Everyone who loved your child will be affected by his or her death. All of them still need to feel loved, secure, and like they are an important part of your family. Shared hugs and tears are great ways to say, “We still are a family, the child who died remains a part of our family, and in spite of everything we all continue to matter.”

~ Charles A. Corr, Ph.D, is Professor emeritus, Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, and former Chairperson (1989-1993) of the International Work Group on Death, Dying, and Bereavement. Dr. Corr’s professional publications include 22 books and more than 80 articles and chapters on a wide variety of death-related topics.