Recently, I attended my second Hopeful Heart Project Wreath Making Class, where we make wreaths in honor of our children who are not here to celebrate the holidays with us. Like most of the events, there were some familiar and some new faces. As I was looking around, I realized how lucky I/we are to have an organization like HHP, who has created this amazing community.
When you talk to mothers who lost children a couple or more years ago...they often talk of feeling so alone, so isolated...like they were the only person in the world that had gone through losing a child. Then, you talk to mothers who lost children maybe decades ago, and they talk of that same loneliness and isolation.
There were no support groups. There was little to no literature or books on child loss. You walked out of that hospital without your child, and without anyone to talk to. At least usually not anyone who had experienced what you just had: the unimaginable.
Some received helpful & heartfelt advice from their doctors, nurses, and funeral home workers; advice or comments that they remember to this day. Others also remember what was said to them, but because what was said, was so profoundly hurtful. Friends, families and coworkers...not typically knowing what to do or say, many times wouldn't bring up their child at all (after the initial "I'm so sorry for your loss,") fearing it would make things worse for the grieving parents. So, it was on with life they went and often, parents were left heartbroken and struggling to stay afloat..emotionally.
I recently read a heartbreaking story of a mother who lost her daughter over twenty years ago, and because of the circumstances, she had to spend multiple days in the hospital. So she trusted her mother to bring her baby to the funeral home and make arrangements for a funeral, that would take place when she was well enough to leave the hospital. When she was discharged, her mother broke the horrible news to her: she had already had the funeral and buried her daughter, because she thought it would be too hard on her. That it was better, for her, that she had done it that way. Saved her from the heartache of burying her own child. This poor, first time mother, never got to say goodbye to her daughter, the proper way: her own way. My heart physically ached when I read that because...
I know how hard it is to bury your child. I know what it's like to close the casket, never to see them again. It is excruciating...but not as much as to not even been given that opportunity. To have it taken from you, by someone you trusted, and who really did think they were helping you.
It does not matter how much time has passed...the trauma of child-loss stays with you. The what-ifs, the why's, the missed opportunities and the moments that replay in your mind over and over. You can instantly tear up recalling certain moments. The moment you found out your child had died, the moment you laid eyes on them for the first and last times, the imprint left on their forehead from the last time you kissed them...my eyes are watering typing this because I am having flash backs to all of my "moments."
Some of the most excruciatingly difficult, but beautiful moments of my life.
We were fortunate enough to have a couple of moms at the event, who experienced loss a number of years ago. A few of the "newbie" moms commented how moved they were (some to tears) to see these moms there, honoring their children, after all of these years. Although it is a sad reality for all of us...that this is our lives now. That we will forever be grieving...we will also forever be loving our child(ren). I think it is sweet to see a mother's love as strong as it was the day their child was born. Her longing for her child. Her desire to include her child in her life.
One “veteran“ loss-mom had a different perspective on the evening: she wanted to hug all of the moms she saw get emotional, because she remembers how difficult those early months and years of child-loss are. She commented how there must have been a room full of other moms just like her all of those years ago, but she didn't get the chance to know them. She craved finding just one other mom or couple she/they could talk to. She didn't get to make wreaths, or attend a yoga class...or meet another loss-mom for coffee. And that makes me so sad. Because I have and can do all of those things.
Because of the nonprofit: Hopeful Heart Project; business owners like: Love Always Floral; countless donors and supporters of our cause; and most importantly: a local group of brave mothers who continue to share their stories and experiences.
Because of all of this, we are safe to grieve out loud. Safe to ask each other questions and validate our feelings. Safe to openly speak of our experiences and of our children...all of our children, without hesitation of what we should say or what the other might think. In doing so, we have created a safe, loving, and unfortunately ever-expanding, community of loss.
My Marly wreath. Made on 12.9.19 @ Love Always Floral, Fargo, ND.