Losing a child has always been at the top of my “unimaginable” list. I couldn’t comprehend what it would feel like, nor the type of strength it would take to make it through. I even frequently said, “I don’t think that will happen to me because God knows I couldn’t handle it”…
Our son Charley was stillborn at 39 weeks April, of 2007.
I’ll never forget the amazing spirit in our home the week we lost Charley. Oh how we missed him. In an instant we saw our children in a whole new light. Every second with them was a gift. I found myself striving more and more to enjoy the time we’d been given with them. To make the memories we could. I found myself letting go of the small stuff, the spills, the laundry, the messes. I found myself focusing more on the big stuff and really striving to soak in my littles. Charley helped us strengthen family bonds.
Loss changed my marriage. A friend reached out to me after we lost Charley and shared the best piece of advice. She said, “feel what you feel, no one grieves the same”. Allowing myself to grieve, to feel the pain, the anger, the numbness, the hope and even the joy helped me work with my grief rather than against it. Grief is the process of emotional healing. I started to find that each one of those emotions served a needful purpose on my journey. My anger made me seek for answers needed for spiritual healing, and to take those questions straight to the Lord. My numbness helped me pick myself up and put one foot in front of the other. My pain and heartache helped me feel close to my son and close to the Savior. The joy made me see that there was still so so much good in my life, and the hope made me feel like I could pick up the broken pieces and still create something marvelous. Respecting my grief and learning to respect my husbands made a huge difference in our marriage. As we worked together to honor each other’s grief, we grew closer together. We used the code word “heavy” for hard moments or days where our grief was strong and we needed extra empathy. Our marriage is not perfect, but this made a big difference; especially during that first year.
Loss changed my other relationships. We had some incredible friends reach out to us during our first year. They grieved with us, showed up, walked with us and honored our son and our grief. They didn’t tell us how to feel. They listened. They asked questions, but respected times when we didn’t want to talk. They taught us how to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort. Those friends have become like family.
We also had friends who distanced themselves from us; not knowing what to say, and afraid to cause any more pain. I can relate to them. This was me prior to loss. It is hard to know what to say to someone who is grieving. I remember doing the same thing to others out of fear that I would cause further injury.
Sometimes people said or did the wrong thing. We had a friend who loved us very much. She was devastated for us and in her sadness prepared a religious devotional specifically meant to heal our hearts. Her intention was sweet and thoughtful, but the timing was terrible. She had called and texted several times asking if she could come by to share her thoughts. I thanked her for her thinking of us and told her we would have to get back to her. A week after we got home from the hospital she showed up on our doorstep, uninvited and unannounced. I answered the door. First, she playfully scolded me for not getting back to her sooner, she then pushed her way inside and said “Well, this is what you get for not returning my text” gesturing to her coming inside. I explained that we had responded yet because we needed time together as a family and weren’t really having people over. She looked at us confused that we were not crying. She told us that we needed to not push our feelings aside and then shared with us the story of Job, proclaimed that Satan stole our baby and then prophesied that God would victoriously replace that baby with twins. While her intention was good, the effect was devastating. My husband and I are deeply religious people. However, we do not believe Satan stole our baby. Nor do we believe Charley could ever be “replaced”. Nor could we even think about more kids at that moment. These were abrasive things to be told while our hearts were wounded. That conversation left me feeling extreme social anxiety. Sometimes we imagine what it would be like to walk in someone else’s shoes. We want to treat others the way we would want to be treated. I know my friend did what she felt was best for us, out of love. Giving her the benefit of the doubt helped me appreciate her intention without having to internalize the comment or action. It allowed me to forgive and move forward. I have also learned to draw boundaries and be direct with people. I should have told her when she first asked, that we were not accepting visitors at that time and needed time and space as a family. I also could have told her at the door it was not a good time and that she would need to wait until we were ready for visitors.
Loss has made me create an island of safe people. One thing I struggle with a lot right now is surface level friendships. I really want to know my friends and for them to know me. Shortly after we lost Charley our ward (church congregation) split into new boundaries. This felt devastating. We had finally gotten to a place where church felt safe again. We had gotten through all of the awkward first-conversation-after-loss conversations and were in a good place. It felt like we would have to start all over. I didn’t want more change. I stuck to my island of safe people until being called (asked to serve) into the leadership in the Relief Society, our church’s women’s organization. I was grateful for an opportunity to learn to reach out again and to learn how to make new friends. Those new friends have added so much joy to my life.
Loss changed my relationship with God. I was so confused when we lost Charley. I had been living a good life, trying my best, and some how assumed that God would not allow really bad things to happen to me. Why didn’t I get a prompting to see a doctor sooner? Why didn’t the original induction date fall though? Why didn’t we get the opportunity to pray for and receive the a huge lifesaving miracle? Turning the “what ifs” and the “why nots” over to the Lord took a lot of Faith. When we did, we started to see daily miracles. He was showing up for us on our hardest days, in our hardest moments and carrying us through when we emotionally could not take another step. Seeing his love manifest through tender mercies, friends, selfless acts of service and small miracles was even more impactful on my life than any one HUGE miracle could have been. It taught me that when we are given more than we can handle, we don’t have to rely on our own strength. “I can do all things in Christ which strengthen me” -Philippians 4:13. I’ll never forget the intense wave of peace that washed over me as they lowered Charley into the ground. Or the strength we were given in the hospital moments after they placed him in my arms. It was not my strength. It was not my peace. “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth, give I unto you” John 14:27. Trusting God’s desire, ability, and timing to teach me has been one of the most healing parts of my journey. It helped me expand my view of God and come to more fully know him as my Father and the Savior as my healer, redeemer, and friend.
I knew loss would take a lot from me, but I never imagined how much I would gain. Those answers were far more powerful then they would have been had they just been handed to me when I demanded them. I know now that I am not immune to the trials that come from living a mortal existence, but I also know I am not having to face them alone. I learned that it is okay to ask the hard questions; to take those to the Lord, allow him to teach me in his own time and in his own way. I have been given new perspective, more compassion and empathy, more answers, a deep love for my Savior, a witness to the plan of salvation. I’m so grateful for the gift of growth that follows trials, and grateful for a God who allows us growth. I am grateful that he has helped us take the broken pieces of lives and continue to build someone beautiful.
At Charley’s funeral or friend who spoke said, “You have to live life forward, but can understand it backward”. I love that quote so much. I love looking back now and seeing how our sweet Charley has changed our lives for the better. And like the card that the hospital gave us said, “Deeper are our joys, greater is our love because [he] spent a moment with us”.