He said, she said; the grieving paths of moms and dads
“Give me what I need, help me,” she begged.
“No, you give me what I need, you help me,” he pleaded.
“You don’t grieve at all,” she said.
“All you ever do is cry,” he said.
Such is the journey with some moms and dads as we struggle to find our paths after the death of our child. “He”and “She” can be interchanged in all those statements because there’s no gender exclusivity to how we grieve. A father may go inward and the mother may cry. Or, a father may share his grief with the world and a mother may keep her pain hidden. Whichever way we endure our pain is how it’s working best for us. But it can be hurtful when grieving becomes a competition as to who misses, or loves, our child the most and who’s grieving correctly. Add guilt or blame and emotions are taken to a new and sometimes damaging level. The dramatic differences in grieving styles of moms and dads are not unusual. We’re not alone in how we feel.
Since our husband or wife has been our closest supporter and best friend over the years, we expect that support to continue after our kids die. We shared everything when they were alive and we expect that to happen now that they died. We laughed with each other and now want to cry with each other too. But what we often find is that the person we expect to be able to lean on the most isn’t there and we fall. That confuses, hurts and angers us. We think, “You’ve known what I needed in the past, why can’t you see what I need now?” Either parent could say that. The mom and dad of a child who’s died have much in common, but also much we can’t give each other. What we know is common suffering, our pain is equally intense and we both feel the loss deeply. But since we’re both in such turmoil and barely able to take care of ourselves, it can be impossible to give each other a safe place to grieve, a harbor for our broken heart where our way of grieving will be understood and respected.
Our expectations of each other are high, often times too high. If you have those feelings of abandonment, they’re not unusual and with work they can be resolved. As in all cases of needs and wants, communication is the key. But, the communication needs to be from a calm, rational perspective, which is not who we are in the beginning. It can be difficult, but not impossible.
When our child was alive, we lived in an “our” world. Both happy and sad times were “our” times. Decisions were made jointly; they were “our” decisions as to what was best for our child. For the most part we were able to share our points of view and find a compromise that worked in the “our” world. We gave respect to each others way of parenting, and then our kids died and we fell apart. When they were alive we had access to hundreds of books on parenting, plus we had ingrained in us the methods that were used to parent us. We drew information and strength from them. But no one taught us how to cope with the death of our children, there’s no book available, so we turned to each other for that knowledge and support. What we found was that the “our” world had suddenly turned to an “I” world, because it had to for our survival. The realization our closest partner couldn’t help us, and we couldn’t help them, was confusing and often times hurtful. We asked, “So if you can’t help me, what am I supposed to do with my suffering?”
The key to coming back to each other is talking and sharing…..communicating. It’s paramount to share our pain with our partner and not judge or criticize their way of grieving; and vice versa. Some of us read books on grief and attend support groups. Those things work for some even if our partner may not agree with them. They may find writing, or painting, or gardening as their way of letting out pain. Those methods should also be given respect. Plus, there are non-verbal ways to share our suffering. A hug, a back rub, flowers given with sympathy and empathy can go a long way to healing wounds
that have been opened. Don’t make grieving a competition, make it a collaboration. We both hurt, we both love our child, and we need each other now
more than we ever have.
Work on making compromises to give respect and space for each of our grieving paths. If I’m having a good day, it doesn’t mean my partner has to have a good day. And conversely, their bad day doesn’t need to be my bad day also. But we do need to let each other have those days. Our patience will be tested as we see our partner progress at a different rate than us. We may not understand why they cry day after day when we no longer need to do that, or never have. Their anger may dissipate slower than ours, but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong for that to happen. We’re different people, it’s understandable that we’ll grieve differently also. There’s much to be learned by involving ourselves in our partner’s grief. We can help them and they can help us.
Learn the power of, “I’m sorry” and, “I forgive you.” Give up control and what might be best for you so you can help the relationship heal and grow. Work on making your common pain more about “we” and less about “I.” Understand that we’re not perfect people. We don’t live in a perfect world and we all make mistakes. There’s no harm, or dishonor, in saying, “I made a mistake. I didn’t do that very well and would like another shot at it.” And don’t forget the healing power in a heartfelt,“Thank you.” Those simple words of appreciation can go a long way to coming back together.
We may need to ask for what we need from our partner, because they might not know. We’ve heard, or maybe said ourselves, “What do you want from me? What should I do?” If what you need is silence, ask for it. If what you need is a hug, ask for it. If what you need is someone you can feel safe with while you cry, or scream out your pain, ask for it. Try not to ask for understanding of your pain; that may be impossible. What you probably need is an understanding of how much you hurt and you need their support. Also listen to what your partner’s needs are and give what you can. When you’re able to help each other, also thank each other.
This is a tough journey and there’s no need to go through it alone. As parents we hurt equally, we both miss our kids terribly, but some of us find it
difficult to express ourselves and may do it in a way that pushes our partner away. We aren’t born with the coping skills necessary to understand what’s
happened to us, but through communication, constant and open communication, we can survive, and even grow closer. It only takes that first word, or hug, to get started.
“Give me what I need, help me,” she begged.
“No, you give me what I need, you help me,” he pleaded.
“You don’t grieve at all,” she said.
“All you ever do is cry,” he said.
Such is the journey with some moms and dads as we struggle to find our paths after the death of our child. “He”and “She” can be interchanged in all those statements because there’s no gender exclusivity to how we grieve. A father may go inward and the mother may cry. Or, a father may share his grief with the world and a mother may keep her pain hidden. Whichever way we endure our pain is how it’s working best for us. But it can be hurtful when grieving becomes a competition as to who misses, or loves, our child the most and who’s grieving correctly. Add guilt or blame and emotions are taken to a new and sometimes damaging level. The dramatic differences in grieving styles of moms and dads are not unusual. We’re not alone in how we feel.
Since our husband or wife has been our closest supporter and best friend over the years, we expect that support to continue after our kids die. We shared everything when they were alive and we expect that to happen now that they died. We laughed with each other and now want to cry with each other too. But what we often find is that the person we expect to be able to lean on the most isn’t there and we fall. That confuses, hurts and angers us. We think, “You’ve known what I needed in the past, why can’t you see what I need now?” Either parent could say that. The mom and dad of a child who’s died have much in common, but also much we can’t give each other. What we know is common suffering, our pain is equally intense and we both feel the loss deeply. But since we’re both in such turmoil and barely able to take care of ourselves, it can be impossible to give each other a safe place to grieve, a harbor for our broken heart where our way of grieving will be understood and respected.
Our expectations of each other are high, often times too high. If you have those feelings of abandonment, they’re not unusual and with work they can be resolved. As in all cases of needs and wants, communication is the key. But, the communication needs to be from a calm, rational perspective, which is not who we are in the beginning. It can be difficult, but not impossible.
When our child was alive, we lived in an “our” world. Both happy and sad times were “our” times. Decisions were made jointly; they were “our” decisions as to what was best for our child. For the most part we were able to share our points of view and find a compromise that worked in the “our” world. We gave respect to each others way of parenting, and then our kids died and we fell apart. When they were alive we had access to hundreds of books on parenting, plus we had ingrained in us the methods that were used to parent us. We drew information and strength from them. But no one taught us how to cope with the death of our children, there’s no book available, so we turned to each other for that knowledge and support. What we found was that the “our” world had suddenly turned to an “I” world, because it had to for our survival. The realization our closest partner couldn’t help us, and we couldn’t help them, was confusing and often times hurtful. We asked, “So if you can’t help me, what am I supposed to do with my suffering?”
The key to coming back to each other is talking and sharing…..communicating. It’s paramount to share our pain with our partner and not judge or criticize their way of grieving; and vice versa. Some of us read books on grief and attend support groups. Those things work for some even if our partner may not agree with them. They may find writing, or painting, or gardening as their way of letting out pain. Those methods should also be given respect. Plus, there are non-verbal ways to share our suffering. A hug, a back rub, flowers given with sympathy and empathy can go a long way to healing wounds
that have been opened. Don’t make grieving a competition, make it a collaboration. We both hurt, we both love our child, and we need each other now
more than we ever have.
Work on making compromises to give respect and space for each of our grieving paths. If I’m having a good day, it doesn’t mean my partner has to have a good day. And conversely, their bad day doesn’t need to be my bad day also. But we do need to let each other have those days. Our patience will be tested as we see our partner progress at a different rate than us. We may not understand why they cry day after day when we no longer need to do that, or never have. Their anger may dissipate slower than ours, but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong for that to happen. We’re different people, it’s understandable that we’ll grieve differently also. There’s much to be learned by involving ourselves in our partner’s grief. We can help them and they can help us.
Learn the power of, “I’m sorry” and, “I forgive you.” Give up control and what might be best for you so you can help the relationship heal and grow. Work on making your common pain more about “we” and less about “I.” Understand that we’re not perfect people. We don’t live in a perfect world and we all make mistakes. There’s no harm, or dishonor, in saying, “I made a mistake. I didn’t do that very well and would like another shot at it.” And don’t forget the healing power in a heartfelt,“Thank you.” Those simple words of appreciation can go a long way to coming back together.
We may need to ask for what we need from our partner, because they might not know. We’ve heard, or maybe said ourselves, “What do you want from me? What should I do?” If what you need is silence, ask for it. If what you need is a hug, ask for it. If what you need is someone you can feel safe with while you cry, or scream out your pain, ask for it. Try not to ask for understanding of your pain; that may be impossible. What you probably need is an understanding of how much you hurt and you need their support. Also listen to what your partner’s needs are and give what you can. When you’re able to help each other, also thank each other.
This is a tough journey and there’s no need to go through it alone. As parents we hurt equally, we both miss our kids terribly, but some of us find it
difficult to express ourselves and may do it in a way that pushes our partner away. We aren’t born with the coping skills necessary to understand what’s
happened to us, but through communication, constant and open communication, we can survive, and even grow closer. It only takes that first word, or hug, to get started.