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Archive for February, 2011
“To Be A Man In Grief”
The following is a poem I found a few years ago. I just came across it again today and thought I would share it with all of you. I was unable to locate an author for this poem.
To Be A Man In Grief
To be a man in grief,
Since “men don’t cry” and “men are strong”,
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult to stand up to the test
and field calls and visitors so she can get some rest.
They always ask if she’s alright and what she’s going through,
But seldom take his hand and ask, “My friend, but how are you?”
He hears her crying in the night and thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her, but “stays strong” for her sake.
It must be very difficult to start each day anew
And try to be so very brave. He lost his child too.
Grief – One Guy’s Experience
The following is an article sent to me by Brian Burton, a fellow grieving dad. It’s his story and I want to thank him for sharing it with me and the visitors to this blog.
Grief – One Guy’s Experience
Background
First, you should know, I am trained to provide counseling for those who have lost someone. Both as a minister and an educator. That doesn’t make it easier to go through the loss of someone you love.
We had been trying to have another child for 18 years. We had no problem conceiving our first child. But we have what is termed ‘un-explained secondary infertility’. We went to fertility specialists; we did everything up to the invasive procedures. We were not comfortable going further than that and had stopped all attempts through fertility treatment. When we conceived our second child, we learned about it on the 18th birthday of our first child. We were scared and excited. When we went to the doctor he reported that our baby was developing fine.
Looking back, the pregnancy didn’t go ‘right’. My wife, Rosemary didn’t have morning sickness until the second trimester. She didn’t gain weight like she should have. There were lots of things not ‘right’. But the Doctor seemed to feel everything was okay, so we prayed and believed that Blythe would be fine.
The day after her due date, Rosemary delivered. She went straight from Braxton-Hicks contractions that were off and on into hard labor. We live over an hour from the hospital. This meant that I was going to do the delivery. We had prepared for this inevitability since it was during the winter and we lived so far away from the hospital.
As soon as the head was partially delivered, I knew something was wrong. But you don’t get to stop in a process like this. I wanted to cry out right then, but knew Rosemary needed me and she needed me to stay strong. So I prayed that I was wrong, prayed that Blythe was alright, prayed that Rosemary would be alright. One out of three of my prayers were answered.
Blythe was born stillborn. We both began giving her CPR and called 911, still hoping, praying, that everything would be okay. The EMT responding is also the county coroner, so the diagnoses was quick. Rosemary had to be taken to the hospital because her blood pressure dropped. But, to the amazement of the hospital doctor and nurses there was no tearing and no other scares. The birth had gone perfectly, it’s just the results were not what we had hoped.
In case you are wondering, the diagnosis was ‘failure to thrive’. Basically, even though Blythe was full term and full size, vital organs never formed completely. We have learned that this happens in 1 out of 115 pregnancies.
Saying the Right thing!
As I was following the ambulance to town, I called friends and family to let them know what happened. Between calls I cried out to God “Why!?!”. It was very early in the morning, so I left messages at most homes. I’m sure it wasn’t a great message to wake too.
Two of the friends I had called, called us back later that morning. One said “I’m coming. It doesn’t matter if you want me there or not, I’m coming.” And she and her husband did.
The second friend who called back just left a message that he was there for me. That it didn’t matter the time, or what I wanted to talk about, I could call him, and he would cry with me.
On the opposite end was the funeral home. We went to a local funeral home in Ava, Missouri. It has the fanciest building, but the treatment we received was unbelievably horrid. One of them actually asked why we were so grief stricken, we had other children. I’m not going to go into any further than that. It hurts too much for me to think about the things they said when I was crying over the loss of my baby girl. Our friends who came to help us took the old battle ax out of the room. Our friends said that one day she might tell us the really bad things that were said, but probably not.
Stages
You learn when you are being trained as a counselor that there are five basic stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
Men deal with grief a little differently than women.
First, we are taught to not express our emotions, so we keep them bottled up. We don’t WANT to talk about our pain. If a guy opens up about his grief, you are likely to hear “I’m just having a difficult/bad day.” That is about all you’re going to get. I have worked hard to be more expressive with my wife as we both deal with the grief. I can remember one time a couple of months ago when I told her that it had been a difficult day because I kept missing Blythe that she teared up and told me that it helped to hear me say that.
I worked through the Denial and most of the Anger on the way to the hospital. As far as Bargaining. I guess I was a lot like King David when he lost his first child with Bathsheba. I had prayed and pleaded all through the birth. I had gotten to touch and hold my baby. She was and is beautiful.
Depression. Yeah. Those are the bad days. I don’t have the kind of job where I can take out my anger and frustration. I don’t have a physical job. I teach. I write. I’m not a boxer where I can go and take out my frustration out on someone else. I would find it abhorrent to take it out on one of my students. Fortunately my students have been supportive and understanding when I’m having a bad day.
So that leaves us with Acceptance. Perhaps my writing this is the beginning of my accepting the loss and trying to move on. In my opinion all of these phases are fluid. There are days when I will fall back to anger and denial. As Billy Crystal said in one of his movies, “Grief, it’s a process”.
No ‘Butterfly Kisses’
Bob Carlisle wrote Butterfly Kisses several years ago. While I am not a big fan of his style of music (a little too country for my tastes), I loved the song. I bought the CD just so that I could have it for when my daughter was growing up. Our adopted daughter was too old when we adopted her for this, and I was looking forward to receiving my butterfly kisses. I think this is perhaps the greatest pain for parents who lose a child. You’re not just dealing with the loss of the child, but all of your hopes and dreams for that child die as well.
Okay, if you’re still with me, you’re either a glutton for punishment, going through something similar, or want to know what to do and say to help someone through this. First, you have to know the person who is grieving. If you don’t know them, you can’t help. This applies to ministers, teachers, casual friends and family. The only exception to this would be if those that are grieving don’t have anyone to help them. Having even bad help is better than no help. If you see that there is someone there to help them, check on those who are grieving and ask them if they want you to help with arrangements. If they grab on to you, then stay and help, the others there are not helping! This happens frequently. When family or friends come to ‘help’, but only want to talk about their own loss or problems. You might offend those who came to ‘help’. Risk it.
Second, don’t avoid the people who have lost someone, and don’t avoid the subject. The caring cards and plants that we received meant a great deal to us. The people who stopped by, called and emailed helped a lot. Making an offer of “if there is anything you need” while it sounds nice, DOES NOT HELP! The person grieving is not capable of telling you what they need. If you really mean it, be there with them. Go to the funeral home with them. Run interference between those grieving and all of the people who would try to take advantage of them.
Third, make sure they eat. There is a reason why people use to take casseroles to the homes of people who lost a loved one. They don’t feel like cooking, and don’t think they are hungry. They won’t eat much, but they do need to eat.
Fourth, if they have kids, take the kids out to do a little shopping, see a movie, anything to give them a chance to have a break from what is happening. I can’t tell you how much it helped our children to be taken out by our friends.
Fifth, grieving doesn’t stop after the funeral. It is NORMAL for intense grieving to last a year or more. With the loss of a child, the grief and mourning doesn’t stop. Continue to check on them. Depression and even suicide are not uncommon during this time period. If they don’t have anyone there to help them through this time, get them help!
Finally, little things mean a lot during this time. One thing that stands out in my mind is when a good friend of mine worked with the foundation of the University to create a Memorial fund in Blythe’s memory. We have been getting regular updates from the Foundation whenever someone makes a donation to the fund. It is a small thing, but it helps to know that even though her time here on Earth was short, she made an impact and is remembered.
Now, you might ask, “where is the discussion about God in all of this? Shouldn’t I talk about heaven and the promise of being with them in heaven?”. My answer? No. They either already believe in God or they don’t. They might be angry with God. They might not. If you feel a burning need to witness, do it with your actions, not your mouth. DO NOT JUDGE. You don’t know if the one they lost is in Heaven or not. And you won’t until you get there. More people have been lost to the Kingdom because of some arrogant “Christian” trying to explain God’s judgment and/or punishment (yes, I had to deal with a person who felt that we were being punished for some unknown sin). I can guaranty you that at that time, the grieving parents know exactly what hell feels like.
I know who was there and who had a witness to me. The girls at a local diner who profess to be agnostic or atheists, with all of their piercings and tattoos had a much greater witness to me and my family than the old woman who professes to be a ‘Christian’ that couldn’t keep her mouth shut. If the only witness I had ever received was the woman at the funeral home, I wouldn’t be a believer today, and I would curse every Christian I encountered.
I could easily turn this into a book but will end with the question: What does it come down to? Paul said it best: Love. Love those who are grieving, be patient with them, give them time to heal. Even when you think they should be over the mourning, they’re not. They will never be the same person again. Just love them, and that is how you can reflect God into their life.
by Dr. Brian G. Burton
“It Gnaws At Me”
Is it just me or is there anyone else out there that finds it difficult when another dad (or mother) talks about how they are expecting a beautiful healthy baby or when they parade the newborn baby around the office to introduce their new bundle of joy to the world or they talk about how they spent the weekend at the park with their child or how they just love coaching their child’s sports team? I could go on and on, but you get the point.
Today I was walking through the office and one of the guys in my office that I occasionally speak with says “Hey, have you heard the goods, my wife is 10 weeks pregnant”. Please do not get me wrong, I am happy for them (for the most part), but I do not want to hear about it. Most people in my office know what I went through with the loss of my two babies, but that doesn’t seem to stop them from sharing the “good news” with me. I try to chalk it up to ignorance on their part because they are naïve to how quickly things can change or the pain that others are experiencing after the death of a child.
Maybe they just think that since it’s been 6 years and 5 years since my children’s deaths, they think that I am “over it” and that their “good news” doesn’t bother me, but it does. It bothers me every time I see a dad holding his little girls hand or playing ball with his son in the park. No, it doesn’t send me into deep depression, but it gnaws at me.
Anyone else experience similar thoughts or feelings about this subject?
What Gives You Hope?
There is no mistaking that it’s winter here in Chicago. The blizzard of 2011 dumped 20” of snow in the last 24 hours and it’s about to dip down below zero with -20 wind chills. I hated winter before the deaths of my children but for some reason winters have become even more difficult for me. Maybe it’s the dark cold days. Sunshine has been pretty much non existent for about a month and when it is sunny, it’s too cold to be outside. However, I hold on to the fact that Spring is not far off. Like clockwork, over the last 4 years, my winter crocus starts to peak through the ground and bloom around March 12th and the days start to get a little longer and the sunshine gets a little warmer. The sound of snow melting off the roof of my house is like music to my ears.
Ever year at this time I ask myself why I continue to live in an area I despise, both from the weather and the overall number of people that live here. Most people, where I live in the suburbs, are transplants from somewhere else and are here only to make money. Like many of them, I moved here about 17 years ago for the allure of a career and the chance to climb the ladder and make money. The death of my two children taught me a lesson that can only be learned from going through something so horrific. It’s a simple lesson that we make so complex. The lesson is that these “things” really do not matter in the grand scheme of life. Yeah, I still have my “career” but it I don’t sit around thinking about my next raise or promotion or how I could go to work somewhere else and make more money. I don’t think about them because first of all they cause me stress that my mind and body cannot handle anymore. It’s now a pay check, that’s all it is. I am not passionate about doing my work which makes it hard to show up everyday. I keep telling myself just a little bit more. I think I have reached my end of the road.
I find myself asking the question “how much is enough?”. At what point in time do I just pack-up, sell my house and move somewhere that is much cheaper to live. Buy a small house in a place where life is simpler, a place where the weather is better and not everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere else. Does this place exist? And if it does, where is it located? I still hold out hope in my mind that it does and I will find it. Problem is the thought of actually making it happen becomes overwhelming. After the death of my children, I struggle to find the drive and energy to make these major changes in my life. So I keep running the rat race. A race no one ever wins, they just eventually burn out or cash in.
At this time in my life, the only thing that inspires me is the fact I am working towards changing it. I know it will change; it is just taking longer than I would like it to. I am taking classes to obtain a Masters in Counseling so I can help others through dark times. This type of work is so far away from what I do now as an engineer. I get excited thinking about having a small private practice somewhere that life is a little less fast paced and of course the weather a lot nicer. This vision provides me with the hope I need to continue on everyday. I never understood how hope can be sucked right out of you after going through some of life’s difficult challenges. The death of my two children sucked the hope out of me. I never knew what it felt like not to have hope until after their death. Hope has since returned, but it is a constant battle to hold on too it.
This Grieving Dads Project is my way of trying to provide hope to the many grieving dads that visit. A way to let others know that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It may be a different color of light than before. It may be a little dimmer, but know that there is most certainly light.
What are you holding on to that is giving you hope in your life right now?