“Will this pain ever end?” - for bereaved parents

If you are reading this as a bereaved parent or family member, I am truly sorry for all that you are experiencing. If you are reading this as a friend, colleague, or professional wanting to support a bereaved family member, thank you for making a difference.

"Will this pain ever end?"

In my work with hundreds of bereaved parents, it is one of the questions I am most often asked. In the early days of my own bereavement, the enduring agonising nature of this unique type of grief was something I most deeply feared. Second only to forgetting my daughter.
 
Societally, we are not great at grief and bereavement. We tend to be removed and uncomfortable with the notion of death. We can be awkward with the resulting feelings of others (and all too often our own). However, when the death was of your precious baby or child (no matter their age, or stage), we become acutely aware of how our collective ‘not being great’ can impact our ability to grieve and remember.

Why grieving and remembering matter

Grief is a natural adaptive process. Our bodies and minds are trying to adapt to a world where, sadly, our loved one is no longer in our arms. Grieving is hard work. It can bring up so many intense emotions for us, such as:

• sadness
• longing
• love
• disbelief
• regret
• guilt
• anger
• frustration
• pride
• envy
• helplessness

And many more besides.

We may feel as if we lurch between one emotion to another. At times, we may wonder if these challenging emotions will ever subside. Will we ever feel a sense of normality or peace again? If so, will that mean that we have forgotten? I have yet to meet a parent who wanted to forget. Nearly all wanted the intense pain to end.
 
The love you hold for your child is continuous. It is not a switch that can be flicked or a feeling that fades into some far-distant memory, but rather something that continues to grow and develop over time. Being able to express this continuing bond with an understanding and supportive other provides moments of connection, catharsis, and validation. Importantly, it also provides a safe space to process your thoughts and emotions connected with your grief, so that you can move forward to a more comfortable and meaningful way of being and remembering.

Grief and loneliness

Sadly, many bereaved parents feel alone in their grief. There can be a sense of ‘not being understood’, often driven by people’s misplaced good intentions and/or fear of inadequacy in the face of painful emotions. It is not uncommon for people to avoid the bereaved person altogether or avoid speaking about their child that died.

“No one says her name. I spent so long choosing the perfect name for her; making sure the meaning was just right. Miriam, it means she was wished for.”

Bereaved mum

 Others will attempt misguided reassurance or offer suggestions:

• “You have/will have other children”
• “You’ll feel better if…”
• “Have you thought about getting a cat?”
• “When my neighbour died…”

Paradoxically, the very sentiments aimed at reducing pain can intensify it immensely. They can add challenging thought processes to an already challenging array of thoughts and emotions. One father explained:
 
“I was told to focus on my living child. I was enraged. Didn’t they get it? I was trying my best, but my heart had just been ripped out of my chest. I was barely managing to survive. I already felt such guilt towards Millie. I felt helpless, like I was letting her down. I wished it could’ve been as easy as deciding to focus on her. Instead, I felt like I was waging war against the unfairness of the world and the unrecognisable person I’d become”.

If these accounts resonate with your experience, please know that you are not alone.

What can help?

• Speaking to others: They may be an understanding family member, friend, colleague, neighbour, or professional, such as someone involved in your child’s care.
• Informing people of what feels helpful to you: You will be setting people up to support you more meaningfully. Loved ones are often relieved to be pointed in the right direction.
• Journalling: It can feel helpful to jot your thoughts down either as a way of processing them, containing them, or seeing how they change over time. Unless you are uber organised and routine-driven by nature, avoid a pre-dated diary. These can add a certain level of pressure that, quite frankly, no one needs when they are grieving. Some days, you may find that you want to write or doodle in your journal a lot. There may also be times when you don’t visit your journal for days or weeks on end. There is no right or wrong, just what feels right for you.
• Exercise: Anything from going for a gentle walk in nature, to running, swimming, cycling, or taking part in organised sport, can reduce the impact of stress hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline on our grieving bodies.
• Routine: Maintaining a healthy routine with sleep, nutrition, and personal care will help to reduce additional strain on your body and mind. You might need to 'fake it till you make it' before you notice the difference to your wellbeing.
• Creativity: can provide welcome moments of mindfulness. The right-to-left activity in the brain, associated with creativity, can support gentle processing.
• Nature: Getting out and interacting with nature can help you rebalance your nervous system and remember your loved one. From planting a tree in their honour, visiting a place that they loved, or spotting something to soothe your grieving heart.
• Bereavement counselling: Bereavement counselling can provide a safe space for you to express and understand your thoughts and emotions. Some bereaved parents explain how it can feel helpful to speak to an empathic other who they do not feel compelled to protect. You can access it as an individual or a couple, short or long-term.

The same, but different

Whilst we are all programmed to experience grief physically, neurologically, and emotionally, how you express your grief, and what you find helpful (or unhelpful) is unique to you. Even people living within the same household, grieving for the same child, will have different needs. It does not mean that they/you love your child any less. Remaining open and understanding of these differing expressions and needs is key to supporting each other, and yourself, at this sad time.

Gradually, you will learn more about yourself in the context of grief. You will learn the elements which help you to ride the waves of grief when they come.  
 
“I sort of got used to recognising the tough moments before they reached full force. I learnt that if I played songs that reminded me of Caleb, I’d have a good cry and release the pressure. Tears went hand in hand with a headache for me, so I’d snuggle up with the dog, a soft blanket, and a big glass of water, which always helped. Now, most days the dog-blanket combo is enough to pick me up if I feel low.”  - Bereaved parent.

Over time, experience will teach you that better days will follow the hardest ones. At first, better days may simply be those when the grief is less mentally and physically exhausting. In time, they will be those where you are able to laugh and feel genuine moments of joy.
 
“The first time I laughed after Anwyn? It must have been weeks after, with Laura, the bereavement midwife. I’d had a good cry, but we ended up talking about the bra I was wearing when I was giving birth. Let’s just say it was not the bra of a birthing mother! I was overdue and determined to get the ball rolling that night. We were both in tears but this time from laughter. It felt good to properly laugh about something silly, with someone who understood that I was still grieving. I did have a moment of feeling guilty. Laura reassured me that it was good to laugh and normal to have mixed feelings about it. Laughter didn’t mean I loved Anywn any less, but it did top up my reserves when I needed it most”.  - Anwyn’s Mum.
 
If happier days or moments of laughter are too hard to imagine right now, please do not despair. I certainly remember feeling that way, and I have worked with very many parents who did. I cannot tell you the exact moment that joy gently found its way back into my life - somewhere between the heartache, the tears and the longing. Other people will be able to tell you the time and the place that love, grief, and joy could co-exist. Now in my work, when a bereaved parent says that they can’t imagine being happy, I always include a silent ‘yet’, holding hope for them until they are able to hold it for themselves.