by Éva Zsák
When you read posts written by other bereaved parents, you may find some comfort in their lines. In your misery you see that there are so many others, unfortunately, who feel something very similar. It’s due to the sad fact that we all have something in common; we all miss our lost children. This is definitely some consolation since your feelings of grief and sorrow may give you hard times. What you read below is just a random sample of those times. As we relate to each other’s journey, we find our connections.
- I don’t think time matters in our cases. You keep thinking: ‘My baby would be X years old now.’ ‘He/She would be starting kindergarten/ school/ secondary school, etc. now.’ And your heart aches.
- I feel envious when I see all those preparing for the start of the school year. I keep counting what I should be doing and I am not doing. And I believe it won’t change. What for most other people is a task to be done, for me is a source of longing and pain. I would be happy to do it in advance or in the very last minute. I would be happy to look for the most incredible things on the shopping list prepared for pre-school or school. But I can’t do that.
- Yesterday I was talking to a dear teacher of mine about schools and responsibilities. And I told her: ‘We, parents …’, and then it dawned on me that I am not in that group. Not visibly, anyway, and therefore I do not count as one.
- I like children and luckily we have several of them in the family. They are really cute and sweet. It‘s good to be with them and we get on well. However, after a certain time I always realise that we might as well be the best friends then and there, but they’ll want their parents to kiss them goodnight or to comfort them if something goes wrong. I feel empty in those moments.
- I have been told that I should be looking for the positive feelings I had while I was expecting my baby boy and that might help shift or reframe a bit my general sense of loss. It is not difficult to recall all those feelings, not at all. I remember how happy I was. On cloud nine, absolutely. I still feel it. I remember the experience of loving someone just for his pure existence, just because he chose me to be his mom. I still do love him, eternally, with all my heart. I remember how I dreamt about the baptism, and our first Christmas together as a family. Nevertheless, slowly but surely these feelings evaporate and what is left is an empty shell of what my life and myself used to be.
- Do you ever feel that you want to get it back, you want your life to be like as it used to? I do, so often. In the beginning I wanted to get help so that it could be reversed, I wanted someone, anyone to help me. Now I would do it myself if only I knew what to do, where to go. Of course, I know it’s insane. But who says you are not entitled to feel insane, at least sometimes, when your child dies?
- I have just read somewhere that we, bereaved parents, have a ‘new normal’ self, life, etc. I have not asked for this quality in my life. I can still recall that one of my first recognitions was that this tragedy would be there every single day of my life. I was terrified of the weight and the pain it would mean. But my ‘new normal’ self must live with this.
I believe several other elements could be added to this random list, or could be exchanged for others.
Please, feel free to add yours.
Eva is 39. She lives in Hungary and Italy. She is a teacher and an interpreter, but now also a med school student.Her little angel, Peter is her only child. He died five years ago due to a premature rupture of membranes. This experience changed her life completely. She started to learn about grief and child-loss and the importance of the human factor in doctor-patient relationships. She likes reading, poetry, and literature in general.
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