My son’s death has been my defining moment. It has been amazing to me that just the few short days of his life have made such a difference for so many years and all the years of my life.
Samuel was fine when he was born, but stopped breathing for an undetermined reason a few hours later. He was revived and brought to the Provo NICU, where they could not find anything wrong and took him off life support and he stopped breathing again. He was again revived and then taken to Primary Children’s center, where they did more tests for several days and finally determined that he had sustained so much brain damage and that even if left on life support he would not make it more than three months. We made the difficult choice to take him off life support that Sunday. Our families came for the giving of a name and a blessing that morning. After the blessing he was taken off life support. He continued to breathe as we held him through the night – in a little room just for us – at the hospital. The next day we got to bring him home and show him our Christmas tree and treasure him through another night. Early the next morning he opened one eye and seemed to look at me. Then his breathing changed and I woke up my husband Travis. Travis sent me downstairs to get the stethoscope so we could hear his heart. When I came back Samuel had died.
I’ll always be grateful to Samuel for letting me be a mom and for being here on earth with me for the days he was. I have learned about grief from losing him. I have learned powerful lessons I would not have learned any other way. I have received many tender mercies that I am still discovering and finally recognizing today.
Things I have learned about grief:
– We could almost instantly recognize someone who had also experienced grief. People who had been through something similar say “I’m so sorry” and look like they are going to cry. They don’t tell you how you should be feeling but let you feel how you need to feel. There is a language that you learn to speak when your heart is ripped apart. You can’t learn it any other way.
– Everyone experiences grief differently. Just because you and your spouse have the same grief you will both feel very differently at different times as will others who have been through similar things. I can’t say “Don’t ever say this” or “This is what helps” because people are different. Your way of grieving is right for you because it is YOUR way.
– You have Heavenly help but you still need to feel. I think at the start the shock is a gift. I think it is a way to help you get through the first bit that you feel numb and disassociated with yourself. I think it might be a heavenly help for the first few weeks, then that extra help is withdrawn so you can experience the terrible feelings that you must.
– Grief is exhausting. Physically. It is like you have just hiked to the top of Timp. You are super tired. Little things are hard. You don’t sleep well. You have to make a huge effort to eat and sleep and get on your shoes.
– Deep grief is not the time to get new jobs or moving or strict diets or any additional high stress things if you can avoid them. It is a time for comfort and taking walks and cutting back what you can, especially with holidays. I love a thought from a General Conference years ago that trees do not do a lot of growth during years of drought and bad weather. You can see it in the tree rings. You need to realize that your tree can’t do big rings. Grief takes time. It is like a job. It will need time and space and lots of energy. It takes a lot longer than you think.
– It is really important to focus on your marriage. Loss of a child is really rough on your marriage. Extra love needs to be poured in constantly. Date nights and time together need to be a priority. Lots of time to talk together even if talking is difficult.
– You are not alone. I didn’t realize how hard our loss was on my parents and in-laws and extended family until later. You may feel isolated and different, but there are others who know what it is like. And there is one who knows exactly what it is like. He suffered the same pain you are going through to best help you.
– The grief cycle is really a spiral. You think you are done with a stage, but it comes back. I still feel angry about some things and bargain about others. It is not something you can force your way through or make yourself feel the next stage. It is a change that is a part of you.
– You can help yourself as you feel grief by redirecting your thoughts and writing your story. When our next child, Arianna, was born and had similar breathing problems I felt even more grief about Samuel. I kept going over every detail of when he was born. If only we had been more careful he might not have died. I realized that the “If only” line of thinking was eating me alive. I had to think of a stop sign every time I had that thought. Then I had to replace it with a different thought – guilt is still there and will be with me my entire life, but I’m not going to dwell on it. I and Travis chose to rewrite our way of thinking. We say, because of Samuel’s death, we were watching Arianna extra close. She did not have any brain damage; she did not die. We like to think that Samuel told her before they were born, that he would come first. He would not stay long, but he would make it possible for her to stay and enjoy her life. Sometimes when she was a baby she would lie awake in her bed, just staring at the ceiling, in the middle of the night. She still runs on less sleep than normal. Travis says she is trying to get every moment out of life like Samuel must have told her to do.
– Service and love for others is the best and most healing way to help grief. I felt like we were helped and encouraged to give and serve others. It seemed like everything we did, even though we did not expect a reward or anything back, was greatly blessed. For example, we gave a financial donation to the hospital. A month later we got back the same amount, within ten cents, in our home escrow. It was another instance where we could feel God loved us. I also remember with great love all the people who did kind acts of service for us during our days of sorrow. We had neighbors who quietly came and weeded. We had food with encouraging notes brought. Sisters in the ward asked how I was doing with my grief at activities months later. I have pages of little kind acts others showed us. Because of this I have tried to spend at least some time each week helping someone who has gone through something similar. -Some of what helped us the most were chances to serve others. I brought dinners over to other new moms. One sister just looked at me and without saying a word gave me a hug and cried. I have been so touched by that gesture. We had a nephew and a niece born a week after Samuel died and I got to tend a few times. It was very difficult for me but I found it very healing to hold those precious babies.
-We were primary teachers and the kids were very direct about the death of our son. In some ways it was hard to talk about, but in some ways those kids were a relief because they would say what they were thinking. Some adults and friends and relatives did not like to mention our loss, which was hard on me. It is not like I forgot my grief and their mentioning Samuel would make me suddenly remember and be more sad. I was sad already. The weight of the loss was always there and it was usually a relief to be able to say where I was at and what I was learning from my loss.
– Grief becomes a part of you. My aunt told me when her husband died that she had made a friend with grief. That bothered me for a while, until I realized she meant it was a part of her and she had to live with it, so may as well not hate it, because it is you and who you are. I don’t think the pain of grief goes away – I just have more of a curtain put over it. I used to think that grief was like a big pile of garbage – something you cleared away a part at a time and eventually it would be clear. 7 years later, when my nephew died, I realized my “pile” of grief was still so big that even after all the time I had been working on it, it was not noticeably smaller. My feelings were further in, but they were almost as strong as when Samuel first died. Then, I had a life-changing little moment of understanding – I didn’t have to spend my life trying to clear my grief away. I could stop feeling like I had to “work” at grief all the time. At the end of my life it would not matter if a huge pile of grief was there because I could see Samuel again and the time here without him would be but a moment compared to the eternity. It really helped me to allow myself to feel angry or feel sad or guilty or accepting. Losing a child is part of me and shapes me and impacts me. I am thankful for all the experience has taught me and the connections with others I have because of it.
-One main thing I may have done differently knowing what I know now. I did not join any grief groups. I did not want to read the many books on grief I was given much – some I skimmed – but I was in so much pain that I felt I did not want to take on the pain of others as well. Why read about it when you are living it, I thought. But connecting with others may have let me process things in better ways.
How grief has helped teach me:
1. It is humbling.
Sometimes I imagine myself up in heaven before I came to earth and wonder if this was something I signed up for. If so, I wonder if I understood how difficult it would be to lose a child. When it first was happening I thought “I am strong, I can handle this.” But later I found that I couldn’t. It was too difficult for me. I guess everyone in their life needs something so hard that they can’t do it and realize how much they need the Savior. I had other humbling times before – on my mission, after a difficult break-up – I have had humbling moments since – miscarriages, other deaths of loved ones, difficult callings, difficulties in relationships – but the death of my son has been my longest humbling experience. I collapsed crying many times. I lost it at the cemetery once – so bad that a lady there saw me. She had lost a child too. She found out who I was after I’m sure what was a lot of work and time on her part, and sent me a little note and gift. I want to be that way – to help others who are feeling similar things to what I felt when I was at the worst part. Sometimes it is hard for me to help others. It is seldom convenient. I try to remember the many people who helped me.
2. I notice others more and have more drive to help others.I seem to meet a lot more people who have lost children. Perhaps it is my destiny – or perhaps I’m just more aware. When Samuel died I did have a strong feeling that I needed that experience of grief and that I would be able to help others only after going through it. I hate to hear of others losing kids, but I do think that it makes us part of this sort of club. Not a group we wanted to be in, or a group we want others to join, but a connection and love between us that we can understand in a way that others can’t. It doesn’t mean I know what to say when someone loses a child – there is nothing anyone can say that can magically make it any better. I’m sure I have unintentionally said things that have bothered people at a time when they were most fragile. But I can and do cry for them and with them and feel more of my terrible ache as I feel for them having that deep pain. I feel a strong drive to try and help and I want to be more generous to them because I remember all the pain that comes with losing a child.
3. My perspective on motherhood is better. When Samuel was at Primary Children’s hospital a nurse told me “You get to change his diaper”. My hands shook as I changed him because I realized it may be the last time I ever do that little service for him. It was new to me to see changing diapers as a privilege. I’m sure this thought helped me through the decades of constant diapers and potty-training to come.
There was another baby at the hospital by Samuel who was screaming. The parents apologized for their baby, but we smiled and said we would give anything to hear our baby cry again.
My brother-in-law later said that he would like to have a baby who never cried. “No you wouldn’t” I told him. “We had that. Believe me, sometimes a loud baby cry is the best noise in the world.”
My neighbor told me after Samuel died, “Well, at least you don’t have to wake up a lot during the night with a baby.” I’m sure she saw that I was super sad and wanted to say something to help me feel better, so I recognize the feeling behind it was love. But I did think at the time of how many sleepless nights my grief caused me and thought of how much I rather would have liked to be awake because of a screaming baby then a silent, empty home and my tears.
Years later I had a baby who screamed so loud the neighbors woke up in a panic. He was up so much during the night that I started to have hallucinations from lack of sleep. Great kid now – but not an easy baby. I’d like to think because of that strong thought after Samuel died – that I would rather have a screaming kid then an empty crib – I was able to handle William’s super loud screaming and being up all night better than I would have without it.
Another comment that I remember was from another person about how lucky I was to not have other kids when it happened. I can see the point – my brother and sister-in-law not only had to deal with all their grief, but also the grief of their kids. But it stung because part of my grief was not being a mom anymore. I will always be glad Samuel came and made me a mom, even though I did not get to keep him long. I am still amazed by how much I love him and how excited I am to see him again. I don’t look at death the same since I have that and other wonderful reunions in my future.
4. I have a new perspective on relationships. When you have a baby die you are reminded that life is so fragile and a miracle and precious. It helps you see arguments and disagreements as very minuscule compared to life and helps you want to value every relationship. In this way it helps you be more patient and understanding.
Some of the tender mercies I have received through grief:
The first tender mercy I received was a dream I had about a month before he was due. I was at a church building I did not recognize. My boss, Bea Ribgy, was there. I was sitting by Travis on the front row. My father-in-law was talking about the plan of salvation in connection with the death of my baby son. In my dream what my father-in-law said really impacted Bea. I was so sad about my baby dying in my dream that it woke me up crying. I had a lot of vivid dreams when I was pregnant, but this one was so dramatic I told Travis about it and wrote it down.
When planning the funeral after Samuel had died, I told my father-in-law he needed to talk about the plan of salvation. The funeral had to be moved from our church building to another one I had not been to before because of an event so the funeral was in a church building I did not recognize except from my dream. I did not see Bea there at the funeral, but I found out later that she had come and what my father-in-law said meant a lot to her. She took me on a lovely drive and we had a long talk. She died of brain cancer not long afterwards, and I am so glad she took that time to be with me. There were other dreams and realizations and inspiration I and Travis had that really helped us and have been a comfort and blessing to us.
Another tender mercy is that Samuel was an organ donor. I don’t have many details, but I did hear from a nurse that his heart valves were used to help another little boy. This means so much to me. Also it got me on the monthly newsletter for donors. I loved the poetry and the tributes in the newsletter and treasured it every month. That was the closest thing I had to a grief group. I highly recommend it if it is an option for others.
Some blessing I have not recognized until much later. For example when Samuel stopped breathing we were at the hospital and so we were not under a police investigation – the hospital was. We had good health insurance. The insurance, after much haggling, paid most of the hundreds of thousands of dollars for all the medical stuff. We did not have to go into debt for the medical bills we had. I was able to get another job after I quit mine before Samuel was born. We were able to pay off our debt because I went back to work. We had enough in savings we could buy a cemetery plot for I and Travis in the future with Samuel buried between us. Both our parents eventually got plots in the same cemetery. It is also where Travis’ sister, my Uncle, my Aunt, my grandparents, my great-grandparents, and great Uncles also are buried, so that will be handy for our kids on future memorial days.
Best of all are the many people who showed us extra love. I could write pages and pages about the angels here on earth we have been blessed to know.
Losing my son was harder than I imagined, but I am so thankful for what I have learned about grief and myself and the blessings I have. I am so thankful he came. As terrible as the pain of the experience has been – his short life was worth every moment. I will treasure every memory and tender mercy until I can be with him again.