A letter to the bereaved parent with another new season upon them

I get it.  A new season (or chapter) now sucks.  It used to be a time of renewal, excitement, anticipation... A time that you looked forward to.  A new beginning.  Maybe it was a new job, a new relationship, a new home, a new opportunity, a new year, a new holiday season...these were all things that I would have been excited about 'before'.  It was kind of like starting over in a sense, in what ever area it was in.  And who doesn't like a fresh start?

Now, these new seasons and chapters are filled with anxiety. Anxiety about having to meet new people at your new job, to put on a happy face, to tell your story (because you know it's going to come out, as it should, your baby very much existed and gave your life purpose).  New seasons are also reminders for me that my baby isn't with me.  She isn't doing life with me on this side of Heaven.  She isn't going to be here to participate in our silly family Christmas festivities.  She won't be turning a year old here on Earth.

It just hurts.  It hurts to the core and I've realized it isn't a feeling that can be described.  It is an experience that we are living every single day.  I'm almost to the point that I don't want people to try to understand because they wont.  They can't.  All that they need to understand is that we need them now more than ever.  And maybe in a few months more than now.  We need people to cry for us when we can't cry another tear, pray for us when we can't catch our breath to pray, and just 'be'.  People don't understand the impact that their presence has on someone who couldn't feel more alone... All because this precious tiny human isn't here any more. We need people who will just listen... Listen to us talk about our child. Listen to our frustrations.  Listen to our questions.  If you've found someone who doesn't want to hear about it anymore, let them go.  There are so many precious souls who will listen to you.  We will never 'get over it'.  Ask them how many times a day they think about their living child and them ask them to not.  It's impossible.

I pray that any new season, chapter, or beginning will take on a new meaning for you.  I am wholeheartedly going to approach these times as a positive.  Yes, we will cry.  We are sad.  But we can also smile at the impact that our precious one has made.  I am realizing more and more every single day all the ways that my Avery blessed us and changed us and left us with things that we will have forever, until we see her again.  My heart grew 1,000 times when I met and loved her.  I now have so much love to give.  She made me see how brave I am.  I've done things in the last 8 months that I never ever thought I'd be able to do.  Imagine what I'm capable of now.  I pray that I will teach my students lessons that go way past the textbooks or curriculum.  Avery taught me so many.  I am realizing that there is a love, a happiness, a kind of joy that you can only experience after sorrow.  So I look at these new seasons in anticipation for that very joy.  I pray you can too.

I cry as I write this.  I cry at the fact that there are so many others hurting the way we hurt. Please remember your child in your new season and smile... Smile because there is so much beauty that is going to come.

I have to believe this.

Still blessed...

I'll be the first to admit that there are days that I look around, am surrounded by so many wonderful people, things, memories.... And I don't feel blessed like I know I should. Like I know I am. Sometimes it's hard to feel blessed when your child.. Your baby... Isn't here on Earth with you. It still makes absolutely no sense to me how such a thing could happen. It's been two months without the most precious gift I've ever been given...

People throw around the word 'blessed' way too much, in my opinion...for example, when good things are happening for them, they're blessed. It always seems it's during positive times that people are 'blessed'. I can honestly say I have never felt more blessed in my life than I have right now and going through the awful 6 months prior. I know I said sometimes I look around and don't feel blessed, but I've learned that through this journey of grief, we have moments, hours, days of just not feeling it. We know it's just part of this journey, we aren't going to be happy all of the time and maybe it's hard for us to appreciate all that we have when the most important thing to you is gone. But oh are we blessed. 

We have seen the good in people in a way that was unknown to us before... We have learned a deeper kind of love... We have found out how strong you can be as a parent and went to those limits, we have learned to fully.. And I mean fully rely on God.  All of these things might not have ever happened without the last 6 months happening. I will not say that Avery's short little precious life ended so that these things would happen but I believe our God cries with us and hurts with us because He truly knows our hurt. I believe that He didn't want this to happen to our sweet girl.  I believe that it's how you deal with situations that makes you who you are. He has been my source of strength and will continue to be because, well, there is no other way. 

We hurt so because we were and are blessed. We were blessed with Avery's precious smile, her laugh, her will to live when the odds were stacked against her. We were blessed with 4 amazing months with a happy, perfect baby. We were blessed with 4 more very different months that gave us time to snuggle, care for, and love our sweet girl.  We were blessed beyond measure when God gave us Avery. 

So today, as much as I hurt, I can say I am blessed.

Wish List for Bereaved Parents

When I saw this list and read through it, I felt like it so perfectly listed all of the things that a grieving parent wants to say.  For anyone who knows someone who has lost a child, a friend, a family member, I encourage you to read through this to help you better understand.  Loss is hard.  Asking for help is hard.  Don't 'stay out of the way'... yes, sometimes (just yesterday) I didn't want to speak to anyone...But some days, I long for a close friend to rescue me...not to distract me but to remind me I'm not doing this alone.  I pray this will help someone.

(This list was found on Bereaved and Blessed)

I wish my child hadn’t died. I wish I had her back.

I wish you wouldn’t be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that she was important to you also.

If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me. My child’s death is the cause of my tears.

You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

I wish you wouldn’t “kill” my child again by removing her pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.

Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.

I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but, I also want you to hear about me.

I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.

I know you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child’s death pains you, too.

I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card, note, or a real big hug.

I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in a short period of time. I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over.

I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die. Grief is a life long process.

I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover.

I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that she is dead.

I wish you wouldn’t expect me “not to think about it” or to “be happy.” Neither will happen for a very long time, so don’t frustrate yourself.

I don’t want to have a “pity party”, but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I’m feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

When I say “I’m doing okay”, I wish you could understand that I don’t “feel” okay and that I struggle daily.

I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I’m having are very normal.

Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when 

I’m quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

Your advice to “take one day at a time” is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I’m doing good to handle an hour at a time.

Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.

I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.

I wish very much that you could understand my loss and grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. BUT…I pray daily that you will never understand.

Read more: http://bereavedandblessed.com/resources-links/wish-list-for-bereaved-parents/#ixzz3eJ2JgLQg