Grief is such an isolating and traumatizing experience, in and of itself, never mind when the source of grief is the loss of a baby. It has been a bit over nineteen years for me and I can recall every single detail from that horrific night in the emergency room. The smell of disinfectant, the hazy meant-to-be-calming-but-institutionalizing-yellow color of the walls, the faces of the two ultrasound technicians who were discovering the life-altering news that would take me years to recover from, all of it. It does not go away. There is not a number of tears cried or screams wailed one reaches when one can say “yup, I am over it now”. That moment began a journey for me that I never saw coming, I thought might swallow me whole and has been ripe with challenges I would not wish on anyone. Yet, what I did not understand for a long while, and still have moments that I am taken back by, is that the grief that began in that moment and still visits today, was, has been and will always be, one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.
Losing Kendall cracked open a space inside me I had no idea existed, and am certain would never have been touched by, any other experience or loss. Carrying Kendall opened up a love that was inexplicable for me. I chatted with him all of the time. I read, or told, stories to him each night when I was laying down for sleep. From the moment I knew he existed, he and I became a “we”. A “we” I had not planned on but a very welcome little duo. Hearing there is no heartbeat, knowing that meant he was dead, brought me to an immediate sense of solitude, yet I could not understand how or why. I thought I might go crazy and was certain I would not survive it if I did not get significant help. Fortunately, I was given the name and number of an amazing nurse who was the first one to tell me, I had lost a child and I was grieving. Until she said it, I thought I was losing my mind. How could I be THIS sad and THIS devastated over a pregnancy? She let me know it was not a medical issue, it was a life and a spiritual loss and brought me to the beginning of my grief journey.
I allowed myself any and all feelings that arose because Kendall deserved that. I loved him dearly, in hindsight I understand, I loved him more than I loved myself. I did not feel worthy of the love and support others were showing me but Kendall deserved to be acknowledged and honored and my grief allowed me to do that. When I could not get out of bed and felt I “should” or “had to” grief over Kendall whispered “you lost someone and that needs to be honored, it’s ok”. When I returned to work, after only 4 days off and was reprimanded for not having a doctor’s note (even when they knew why I missed work) I was less horrified about how they were treating me and more offended that they did not see that this wonderful soul had lost his life and of course that is important. Grief took me down from the inside out. It stole my peace of mind and robbed me of any sense of security I had. Grief prevented me from functioning and once it all shut down, I had two choices; I could give up or I could start to fight. Believing Kendall chose me to be his Mommy, made me feel more value for myself. I might have wanted to surrender but Kendall’s Mommy was a fighter and she was going to show the world that he mattered even if she did not. Grief was the journey that I never chose but would not trade for anything.
Grief whispered and spoke to me through others and through my body. Grief shut me down and forced me to face a whole bunch of ugly truths I had avoided or stuffed down for decades. Grief allowed me to let go of some people who needed to go and opened me up to others who stepped up and surprised me. Grief brought me closer to a higher power than I have ever been because I was not even sure I could survive losing Kendall but I did know there was no way I could do this alone. Grief allowed me to have uncontrollable crying fits in public, which would never-ever have happened previously. I was one who had zero interest in, or ability to, show vulnerability to anyone, especially strangers. But grief said “oh you sweet being, I am going to wash over you when you need it, not when you want it”. And so grief took over.
This scared me at first but once I accepted that it was involuntary, I chose to see what I could learn. I knew Kendall was better off in the spiritual world, I knew that very early on (I was going to be raising him alone, at best, and at worst in chaos & pain with his Dad, but that is for another time). Knowing he was okay, meant I could focus on me, which I hated. I had avoided myself and my feelings my whole life and was not looking forward to exploring any of it, but Kendall’s loss bottomed me out and even when I did not want to carry on, I did. I did because if Kendall saw something in me worthy to be chosen as his Mommy, I was going to honor that. I had no idea how but I knew it was true. When I let myself touch the pain spot left with Kendall’s loss, I found both profound pain and hope. They were not in equal amounts, by any stretch, it was most often 95% former and 5% latter. Yet both existed and I held onto each at different times.
As I travelled with both I found I was a much more compassionate human being toward others. I knew most people had no idea I was suffering and that told me I also had no idea what others were struggling to carry. I loved Kendall so much that I spoke of him often. Which, let me tell you, was often an immediate conversation ender. Grief was not going to be ignored. I was not going to allow others to ignore Kendall. So, grief and I became the “we” that I thought was going to be longer with Kendall. I was not an excited or positive partner, in the beginning, but with time I was grateful to have a companion to travel with. Over time, I truly befriended my grief and let it teach me things. I listened when it roared and after a long while, I began to listen even when it whispered.
Grief and I go way back now. We are companions, friends and teacher/student. There was a time I would have been rage-full if someone had asked me to find gratitude in my loss or my grief, so please know I am not asking or suggesting you do so. I am sharing my journey because the most important thing grief taught me was that each and every single one of us dance with it differently. Each and every one of us have the right to heal in ways, and at a pace, that speaks to our soul. Yet, there is a commonality in grief, a feeling of overwhelm and despair that feels so isolating, that we often cannot imagine getting through it or learning to live with it. And that isolation can be harder than the loss. So, I share my experience because I want others to know they are not alone. They are having a very personal and individualized experience but we are a community of people who belong to a somewhat secret society. We hope every day that no one else will ever have to join but when we learn someone has we welcome them with open hearts and are here to remind them that there is hope. Even when you do not feel it, even when you are resentful that you have to find it, it is there. And if you are not ready to hear that, we will encircle you and send loving energy your way until you are.
- Sharing My Truth - August 27, 2019
- Giving Back - April 1, 2019
- One Day, It Will Feel Safe To Begin To Peek Out & Explore - February 18, 2019
Dear Kendall you are a gift to the world, your coming and your going. Dear Beth Ann you are a gift to the world, coming and staying love Jo
Beautifully written, thank you for sharing your story Beth. It’s counterintuitive to think of positives when it comes to grief, but like anything else, we need to feel and examine it thoroughly to accept the gift.
So empowering for women around the world to be able to read this and share and join you in your journey/walk in life. To be able to relate and to read, thus relaising it is ok to grieve and that other people are also grieving and that grieving doesn’t fit into a neat box and can’t even be contained in a box is so important for all to know and understand. To share along or beside the path of ones walk in life is a support for those who don’t have their voices out there, but are reading. Thankyou for sharing this piece of you xo
This touched my heart. On August 15th, it will be 18 years. Like you, I can remember every second about that horrible day. Since then, I lost another pregnancy in 2005 and divorced. I was blessed to marry a man with 5 children and I became a stepmom and stepgrandma…..couldn’t be happier with my life, but as I approach August, there is some dread. Thank you for this amazing blog! Blessings….
My boyfriend and I lost our son on June 15,2017 his name was Austin David Doornbos.