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Nathalie Himmelrich

Inspiring Hope | Finding healthy ways of Grieving | Writer

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grief and loss

The Misunderstanding About Grief And Death

June 26, 2020 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

Image by Nathalie Himmelrich

When I held my daughter in my arms as she drew her last breath I knew it.
When I learned that my mother had just died through suicide I knew it.

I speak boldly when I say that society largely misunderstands grief. Even as a trained psychotherapist specialising in grief and relationship, I misunderstood grief. I thought I understood it, knew about it. I was mistaken. What was interesting to me was that according to my clients I was well equipped to support people through their losses even though I didn’t fully understand grief.

From the perspective of personally LIVED loss experiences, deeply inhaling the grieving process, struggling to keep up the resilience to get up every day, dealing with mundane daily tasks… I really had no idea about grieving prior to my own losses and I believe not many people do – until life shows them death.

There are many unconscious biases and grief myths that are commonly used in our everyday language (see my articles on Downton Abbey Grief Theory Part 1 here and Part 2 here) that it comes as no surprise that society BELIEVES that:

  • Grief has a set timeline and it will be ‘over’ after that time
  • ‘Keeping it together’ and ‘not losing it’, meaning to not show emotions, are desirable signs of being strong and this is how we should show up
  • Replacing what was lost will resolve the grief (like ‘have another baby’)
  • If you just do something useful (=keep yourself busy) it will be better

And, to a certain degree, we as the bereaved ourselves believe these myths which make us stuff down our emotions, pretend we don’t feel them or numb them out with all kinds of (addictive) behaviour.

EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS

Openly feeling and authentically expressing our emotions is not encouraged in our society. ‘Don’t cry’ is probably the most used sentence responsible for children from a young age learning that emotional expression is not welcome. We often get shamed, judged, critiqued or even laughed at when showing our emotions and the pain of that vulnerability makes us shut down.

MISUNDERSTANDING:

Not feeling or not expressing the feelings makes the pain go away.
Keeping yourself busy will resolve any unpleasant feelings.

GRIEF TRUTH:

When loss has touched our lives and after the shock and numbness wear off, we are often overwhelmed by emotions. We need to speak about it, often much longer than the people surrounding us can bear to listen without being emotionally affected themselves.

TIMELINE

In a recent workshop on bereavement support, I heard the presenter mention that the average time of dealing with the bereavement is 2 to 3 years when losing a parent, 5 to 7 years when losing a partner and a lifetime when losing a child. Even though these are (again) suggested timelines, he also said that we all process loss differently and therefore the time span will vary from person to person.

MISUNDERSTANDING:

Grieving is done after a certain time. Bereaved people ‘should get over’ their loss and move on with life. Time heals all wounds.

GRIEF TRUTH:

Everyone’s experience of loss is unique. Everyone’s timeframe on when they are willing and able to integrate their loss and turn their attention back to life is different. And no, the loss will never be put ‘behind’ or ‘over’ – the loss stays a part of the bereaved person’s life.
Time on its own does not simply heal all wounds.

REPLACING THE LOSS

If you lose a child, the next child will not simply fill a space. It’s not possible. The hole in a parent’s heart will not be healed by another child. A new baby does not diminish the wishes, dreams and expectations you had for the one before.

MISUNDERSTANDING:

A rainbow child will heal the loss of a lost child.

GRIEF TRUTH:

The emotions following loss are present in some form or another. It’s natural that the parents will be busy with another child and therefore have less time and space to grieve. This does not, however, mean it’s resolved.

When death visited, I knew. I knew it in my cells. Death was filling me equally with awe as it filled me with devastation. I knew that this was the single biggest emotional experience my life had trusted me with so far.

Looking back I know now that…
My soul was ready for the experience; my humanness, however, was thrown into the painful path of grief.
My soul knew I was resilient; my humanness struggled for months and years.
My soul knew its purpose and my humanness was yet to embark on the journey to find out.

Filed Under: child loss, emotions/feelings, grief/loss, grieving parents Tagged With: child loss, death taboo, dying, grief and loss, grief cliches, misunderstandings about grief, suicide, taboo

Christmas Time After Loss

December 5, 2018 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

christmas
Photo by Wout Vanacker on Unsplash

The holidays and especially Christmas time after a loss can be very challenging. Filled with family gatherings and wishes including words such as ‘merry’, ‘happy’ or ‘grateful’ might you want to scream and run for cover. This is where extreme self-care is required.

First Christmas

I remember the first Christmas time after my daughter died. My whole family came from Switzerland to Sydney to be with us. We drove to the Hunter Valley, the luscious wine region not to far north, where we rented a house for the days around Christmas and my birthday. It was meant to be a joyous time of celebration and being together away from the city.

Taking care of an almost 4 months-old – A’Mya’s twin sister – meant there was the obvious joyousness around her, a small baby. It also meant night-time feeding for me. There were however also the not so obvious issues simmering under the surface: our grief, different for each and every person, my mother’s depression and the family dynamics that were there from the beginning of time.

Related Post: The Evolution Of Grief: Grieving In The Seventh Year

Grief is ever-present, even if you don’t realize it

My personal grief was leaking out through waves of emotionality. I can’t speak for others but there was definitely tension in the air. I do not believe that this was only due to our family dynamics. My mother’s state of health caused an additional source of stress, grief around her loss of health.

We tried to live up to the Christmas spirit and attempted to enjoy each other’s company. We spent about equal amounts of time achieving this high and mighty goal as we spent stressing about it.

Extreme self-care

I didn’t know or remember at the time that looking after my needs was what was needed. From what I’ve learnt growing up, being with family meant postponing my own needs for the sake of the group. I remember as a young adult being called ‘egotistical’ when announcing I was going to have a bath (I had very bad atopic eczema and the only thing that soothed the itchiness was a hot bath).

What I know now is that the most important question in times of stress – and Christmas time counts as a potentially stressful time of the year – is

What do I need right now? And how can I make sure I give myself what I need?

Self-care practice

If you’re not used to asking yourself this question, you might initially find it challenging to know what you need. If that’s the case, you might find it easier to know what you DON’T need by listening to your body. You will have noticed times when you felt situational discomfort, for example, experienced as a pit in the stomach or a headache. These are symptoms of situation that are not what you need right now. Take note of those.

On the other hand, you will now become aware of situations that suit your needs. They make you either feel relaxed, happy or at ease.

When you’re grieving, you are already running a daily marathon. You might simply not have the strength for the extra effort it takes to attend a family Christmas lunch, where you are faced with children running around and be expected to happy for everyone else. If you know that ahead of time, excuse yourself according to what’s needed depending on your family situation and expectations. Some families might understand when you explain truthfully what’s going on. Other families might require a less detailed explanation to avoid further stress.

Related Post: Death Anniversary : The Body Remembers

Your way out

As much as you can plan ahead, you also do yourself a favour if you think about an exit strategy, should you change your mind. Let’s say you decided to attend a family gathering and it turns out that you have exceeded your energy and want to leave. If you’ve thought this through before going, you know how to handle it and avoid the extra challenge of coming up with an excuse.

My eighth Christmas

The way we celebrate Christmas has changed significantly over the past eight years. This year, we will have a more casual family dinner at the beginning of December. The actual Christmas holidays are spent as everyone needs or wants it. For us, this means spending some days in a nice hotel in the mountains and hoping for snow. This year I started thinking about what it is that I need early enough to feel relaxed and at ease with the upcoming holidays.

Filed Under: child loss, grief/loss, grieving parents Tagged With: christmas, christmas and grief, grief and loss, grief at christmas, surviving christmas after loss

My Dear ‘Would –Be’ Child

September 7, 2016 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

Handlettered quote by Nathalie Himmelrich
Handlettered quote by Nathalie Himmelrich

You are my ‘would-be’ child, you who would have turned five (four | three) last week. The children from Kindergarten would have celebrated with you in the morning. The rest of our family would have visited in the afternoon. We would be singing Happy Birthday to you and you would have impatiently ripped open your presents and whooped in joy.

Excitement would be here, given that you just started Kindergarten two weeks ago. You would say ‘I’m a big girl now’. I would walk with you and your sister to Kindergarten every day and I’d pick you up before lunch. Your sister would fight with you over the toys you both want to play with at the very same time. Your Kindergarten teacher would have two sets of identical twins in her class this year! You and your sister would each talk to one of the twin boys that live just a few doors down our street, and soon you would walk to Kindergarten with them, holding hands. There would not be one Kindergarten child missing this year.

Both of you would want my attention, often probably at the same time. It wouldn’t always be easy. Both of you talking at the same time would fry my brain. Your sister would have someone to play with and talk to, someone to stay awake with or wake up in the morning. You would share your toys and books and – of course – also fight over them and throw them around in anger.

You would love sweets, especially lollies and Gummibears. I would hear you scream for ice cream and say ‘mmmmh’ when eating homemade chocolate cake. Your favorite meal would be spaghetti. If you could, you would start the day eating an ice cream and drinking cordial. On special occasions you’d be equally happy if Daddy would make you banana pancakes. At any chance you would want to lick the bowl when I was preparing a cake. But then you would dislike brushing teeth not matter the time of the day.

Mostly I would hug and kiss you, my child, I would hold your hand and feel your soft skin. I would brush your curly locks and bear your screams for me to stop because the brush pulls on the knots. You would want me to braid your hair or make pony or piggy tails.

OH, MY DEAR ‘WOULD-BE’ CHILD…

I would do anything to have sleepless nights, difficult discussions or an angry face telling me to go away if I could…
Anything to have you kick me at night sleeping in the same bed when you’re sick or scared of the monsters under your bed…
Anything to see you learn to ride your bike, even if it meant you’d fall and many times I’d pick you up and I’d sooth your bruises…

Sadly you’re my would-be child, the one that lives in my heart.
The would-be five year old but forever three days old.
Even if you’re not seen by the world out there, you are with me every day, in my heart, in my thoughts, in my dreams, in my sleepless nights, in my quite moments.

You belong to me as I belong to you.
You are part of me and I am part of you.

Your Mama, always.

NOTE:

* I’ve previously heard that some psychologists recommend bereaved parents ‘do not grow up your child in your imagination’. My personal experience and that as a grief counsellor is that it is absolutely normal and common to do so. As painful as those ‘would-be’ thoughts can be, they are also a normal way for parents to live out their dreams and hopes of a life that was cut short, the would-be life of their child.
“It is normal for parents to report that they having an ongoing relationship with their child through their memories and mental life.” (Worden J.W. 2002)

This article was first published September 7, 2016 in Still Standing Magazine.

Filed Under: authenticity, child loss, dear... letters, emotions/feelings, from personal experience, grief/loss, grieving parents, parenting Tagged With: child loss, dear child, grief and loss, grieving a child, grieving my child, grieving parents, personal letter

Stop That Grieving!

January 7, 2015 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

NICU
Image from Nathalie Himmelrich’s personal archives (Photo by Cassandra Deep)

Many times during the dark periods of my grieving I wished for it to stop. “I can’t take any more!”; “I hate my life,” and “I don’t want to be like that.”

In one specifically dark moment I remember telling my husband: “You have the luxury to decide whether you want to stay with me or not, I don’t have that option.”

There were so many times I wanted the whole thing to just be a story or a film that would end, preferably with a happy ending. And neither did I want to become friends with my New Normal self, nor with my New Normal life. Why was it called ‘normal’ at all?

In a conversation I had with my mother after her first suicide attempt I urged her to think about and consider what it would mean to me, being pregnant with HER twin granddaughters and having to deal with the grief of losing MY mother. She said: “I know it would be hard, but with time, you’ll see, it will get easier.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

This conversation occurred eight months before she died and four months before Amya died.

This January, it will be three years since my mother left and I finally know what she meant. I feel that it is due to my extensive personal grief work and my process of writing my book Grieving Parents: Surviving Loss as a Couple that I have come to find myself in a good place with what concerns grief.

“With time, you’ll see, it will get easier…” applies to grief. It does however not apply to loss. Since my latest article ‘Being a Better Parent After Loss?’ and some interesting experiences I have had with certain people’s apparent discomfort with my outspokenness about ‘grief matters’, I realised that there is a huge lack of understanding of the difference between grief and loss.

Loss is a permanent, non-changing reality for a parent who has lost their child.

Grief is a process that is different for any parent and changing and evolving over time.

Loss will never ‘stop’.

Loss can not be ‘let go of’ or ‘moved on’ from.

The fact that I have a daughter who died is part of my history.

And even though it’s in the past, it’s also here with me.
It is not something I will or can forget about.

Grief, on the other hand, is a process.

It changed me and my outlook on life.

Grief will ebb and flow, it comes and goes.
With time, it comes less frequently and is less intense.

I won’t get lost in grief.

I resolve to let go and process grief, every day.
But I will grieve the loss

when needed and as long as needed.

And I resolve to remember Amya.
One thing I cannot lose is her memory.

“With time, you’ll see, it will get easier…”

~~~

THE GRIEF GETS EASIER.

THE LOSS JUST IS.

~~~

This article was first published January 7, 2015 in Still Standing Magazine

Filed Under: authenticity, child loss, emotions/feelings, from personal experience, grief/loss, grieving parents, parenting Tagged With: child loss, grief and loss, grief and personal identity, grief and time, grief gets easier with time, grief versus loss

Being A Better Parent After Loss?

December 3, 2014 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

mother and child
Image from Nathalie Himmelrich’s personal archive (Photo by Tina Steinauer)

Not me.

I became a mother and then a bereaved mother 3 days later. Raising a twinless twin meant ‘learning to be a new mother’ at the same time as ‘learning to be the mother of a dead child’.

Motherhood came with sleepless nights, challenging start with breastfeeding, organizing a funeral, and turned into a constant feeling of overwhelm, anxiety and restlessness, mixed with overflowing love, cuddles and giggles.

Now, three years later I am parenting a strong-willed toddler, which brings me to the edge of patience on an hourly basis. She’s challenging me with the reoccurring, “No,” not wanting to brush teeth, put on jackets on cold winter mornings or get dressed at all. These scenarios, for the bereaved mother without children, might be met with statements like “I wish if only I had those challenges…”

Having held my 3-days-old daughter in my arms as she drew her last breath, I know what it means to lose her. I know what it means to stand in the fire of heart-breaking grief. The missing of my child is etched in my bare skin.

Grief scratched my soul so deeply, it left me wounded in a way that hasn’t just left a permanent scar, but a permanent sore wound which impacts my relationship with my living daughter. Even though her humour showers me with healing light, I am fearful something might happen to her. I jump when I see as much as an appearance of a potential dangerous situation, even when there isn’t really something to fear.

I do enjoy motherhood and I love my living daughter to bits. It does not need much imagination to get a sense of what her identical twin sister would have looked like. I am totally aware of what I don’t have and I do appreciate what I have.

I savour the moments I have and tell my daughter how much I love her every day, uncountable times. She might get therapy later for being smothered with love. I see twin parents being challenged with the load of two and I know what it means not having what they have, even if it’s dealing with the challenges. But knowing something they are not aware of does not make me a better mother.

The potential of loss is something I’m painfully aware of, in every waking moment. I am definitely experiencing motherhood deeply and consciously. I love smelling Ananda Mae’s hair and study her ringlets as she sits in deep concentration of Barney. Having said all of that, I’d rather be blissfully unaware and have two heads with ringlets to smell and comb through in the bath at night, even with the double crying of water and soap in their eyes.

I feel self-judgment as I lose patience in the moments of an extroverted 3-year old testing the boundaries. “No wonder… you wouldn’t have been able to handle twins” do I hear the haunting critical narrator in the cinema of my mind. The expectation to be always calm and poised is far-fetched and totally surreal, I know. And still: “I have experienced my daughter dying in my arms, sure enough, I should make sure I enjoy EVERY moment I have with her sister…”

And yes, I’m a master at being hard on myself.

I don’t have any comparison to being a mother without the experience of the loss. So really, who am I to say I would have been a better mother before or without the loss? It’s just a feeling, one that I can never get proof for.

There are no ‘Sliding Doors’…

Loss has made me acutely aware of the fragility of life. I don’t take things for granted. I enjoy deeply. I’ve seen eye to eye with death. I know what my purpose is with my daughter. Having said all of this, I’m human. I lose my temper. I scream when it all gets too much. That threshold of what I can bear has moved closer since I’ve wrapped my lifeless daughter on a bed of roses for her last journey.

I am just a mother.
Like you.
Happy and elated in one moment.
Lost and helpless at what how to react to my child in another moment.

Simply human – but not simple. 

This article was first published December 3, 2014 in Still Standing Magazine.

Filed Under: child loss, emotions/feelings, from personal experience, grief/loss, grieving parents, parenting Tagged With: child loss, grief and loss, grieving my child, grieving parents, mothering after loss, parenting after loss

Sometimes I Break Down…

November 18, 2011 By Nathalie Himmelrich Leave a Comment

beach and ocean
Photo by john vargues on Unsplash

Sometimes I break down
Out of the blue
Like unexpected storm
Which hits the land
For no real apparent reason

Grief kicks in
And surprises me with its despair
And I stand there helplessly
As my skirt gets soaked by rain

Vulnerability shows its face
The layers of ‘I’m fine’ are wearing thin
Penetrated by loneliness
I become silent

My head aches
From all those unshed tears
Which finally are released
Through the veils of self-preservation

I’m angry I’m sad
I’m frustrated
I have no patience
I shout I scream
I grind my teeth

But nothing brings back my child
Only the memory remains
Of her tiny little body
Never meant to grow
Beyond the picture in my memory

Filed Under: authenticity, child loss, from personal experience, grief/loss, grieving parents Tagged With: child loss, grief and loss, grieving a child, grieving my child, tears

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    Nathalie Himmelrich

    I accompany people therapeutically as a holistic counsellor and coach.

    I walk alongside people dealing with the challenges presented by life and death.

    I’m also a writer and published author of multiple grief resource books and the founder of the Grieving Parents Support Network.

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