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Inspiring Hope | Finding healthy ways of Grieving | Writer

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bereaved

5 Things I Found Out Since Being A Bereaved Mother

February 1, 2021 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

sad women behind glas
Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash

Over the past five and a half years since my daughter died in my arms and I became a bereaved mother I have come to terms with my New Normal (= the post loss self). Initially I struggled and fought, argued and – honestly – hated much of the personal changes that came with loss. Now I’m able see both sides of the medal, live with and accept the changes and even see their potential.

Here is what I found out about myself since becoming a bereaved mother

  1. Seemingly opposite states can coexist
    Strength and weakness, joy and sadness, never before experienced love and overwhelming grief can live inside of me simultaneously.
    Experiencing the love for a newborn at the same time as grieving her sister was so confusing. I was in love at the same time as grieving. I was joyful and sad.
    People experienced me as strong, when inside I felt weak. I wasn’t putting on a face or pretending something I wasn’t. This showed me that being authentic and real is strength.
  2. I’m less social
    Being with a group of people drains me. I prefer one-on-one meaningful conversations over a group of people chatting on a party. Some days I wonder about inviting a bunch of people over and realise that this was something I would have done in the past. The reality of now is I don’t want this anymore.
  3. I can no longer multi task
    Whereas before I was easily listening to music while answering a phone call and writing an email, now it’s one thing at the time. This took time to readjust, I can tell you. As much as I love being productive I now need to take this into consideration when planning things.
  4. I’m more honest and forthright
    Given before I was more people pleasing and diplomatic, this has been difficult to accept for some people. I’m less ‘socially digestible’ but I’m comfortable with this. It’s more authentic, even if not always easy. I’m also more honest with myself and my needs, which brings me to the next point.
  5. Self-care is most important of all
    This is the biggest thing I realised about myself. The main difference to before my loss is that now self-care has become non-negotiable. I have experienced time and time again that both myself and my surroundings suffer, when I don’t look after myself. I’m much clearer about what is good for me and what is not but knowing and acting on it are two different things. I’m still learning to apply this daily.

Maybe one day some of these things will change again. I’m aware of not using phrases like ‘I will never ever again…’ because I don’t foresee the future. As much as I might not be able to imagine something to ever be possible again, the truth is I don’t. There were days I didn’t know how to go on and looking back I have survived. And so can you.

This article was first published February 1st, 2017.

Filed Under: child loss, emotions/feelings, grief/loss, grieving parents, listicle Tagged With: being bereaved, bereaved, bereaved, child loss, grief means, grieving parents

Dear Non-Bereaved Parent

January 8, 2021 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

grief quote by nathalie himmelrich
Handlettered Quote by Nathalie Himmelrich

I know you care for me and am so glad you’re reading this. I know that you can’t fully comprehend, nor would you want to, what it means to be a bereaved parent. Honestly, I’m still finding out for myself.

To live without my child is not something I ever wanted to learn and yet it’s what I have to. I see that you want me to feel better. Let me assure you, you’re doing the best you can to soothe my pain, yet it is here and will be here… until it lessens.

It won’t ever go away completely and this is ok. Can you be ok about it with me?

Remember my child with me

I hope you will have the courage to remember my child with me until we part. Please remember this: You may speak her (or his or their) name, you may remember her birthday or anniversary with me, whether that is by sending me a text message, card or flowers – it doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts.

Please do not fear my tears or my sadness, it means that I’m thinking of her or missing her. It’s not that I am permanently broken or sick, just broken-hearted and grieving.

Please have the courage to sit with me and my pain, without needing to fix it. At times I might say “I need some time to myself” but more often, I do appreciate you being here, even without any words, keeping me company or doing something with me. Other times I might need a distraction and I might even laugh and experience some joy and then feel guilty again and cry in the next moment.

It’s ok, this is life and death: complex and paradoxical and not always to be understood.

The old me is gone

You probably feel that I have changed. You might even hope and wait for me to return to the ‘old me’ again. I’m sorry but that won’t happen. I’m forever changed.

Losing a child is like losing a limb. Even though the scars of the amputation will heal, it’s a permanent change and as much as it sucks, it is what is.

I have to get used to it.

Will you bear the chance to get to know me as your ‘new normal friend’?

I’ve chosen you as my friend because you have a big compassionate heart, yet I know it’s (almost) impossible to understand the unimaginable.

Don’t say things like: “Wouldn’t it be time to move on?” or “At least you have…”

I know you might say those kinds of things in an attempt to support me.

I know you’re well-meaning yet I’ve become sensitive and certain sentences are like shards of glass on an already wounded heart.

Even if you don’t understand, would you allow your heart to reach out and trust the sensitivity of my broken heart? (For examples on what to say instead, click here.)

I might not be up to celebrating pregnancy news, I might even feel jealous of those lucky mothers who are joyously carrying their children.

It’s not that I’m mean, it’s because my heart longs for my child and seeing those mothers with their children is a reminder of what I don’t have.

With time and healing, I will be sad less often or cry less often as at the beginning.

This does not mean I’m ‘over it’.

My child lives on in my heart and I will never get over the fact that I’m never to hold her hand in life.

Please do not confuse my healing with ‘been there, done that’.

My child might have gone with the wind, yet I’m still searching the world for signs of its fleeting presence.

Thank you for being here for me and with me.

Thank you for being my friend and having remained my friend through this.

Thank you for creating a new friendship with my ‘new normal’ self even though we wanted everything to remain as it was…

Thank you for remembering my child and therefore honouring me as her mother.

Wishing you peace,
The bereaved Mother

This article was first published August 3, 2016 in Still Standing Magazine.

Filed Under: child loss, dear... letters, grief/loss, grieving parents, parenting Tagged With: dear non-bereaved parent, dear support person, griever, grieving parents, non-bereaved

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