Nathalie Himmelrich

Inspiring Hope | Finding healthy ways of Grieving | Writer

grieving a child

The Misunderstanding About Grief And Death

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cloudy sky
Photo by Vijendra Singh on Unsplash

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 didn’t fully understand grief

I speak boldly when I say that society largely misunderstands grief. Even as a trained psychological therapist 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.

Grief myths

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 Quote by Nathalie Himmelrich
Handlettered Quote by Nathalie Himmelrich
  • 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 it’s purpose and my humanness was yet to embark on the journey to find out.

This article was first published July 6, 2016 in Still Standing Magazine.

Thank You, Friend

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handlettered quote
Handlettered quote by Nathalie Himmelrich

Thank you, friend, who is still addressing Christmas cards by including A’Mya’s name.
You are one of those who get it. Seeing her name makes my heart sing and my face light up with a smile.

Thank you, friend, who shares Facebook memories with me adding meaningful words. You connect me with the past in a way that is filled with grateful remembrance. It’s through your words that I can hear you remember her with me.

Thank you, friend, who checks in, year after year, on specific dates. Anniversaries don’t just go away because my child is dead. We celebrate her and love her from afar. No presents are given but she is still here with us. In our hearts.

It seems to me that when I write about A’Mya, some people take that as me being sad or depressed. It is not (always) the case. I’m remembering my child. This is honouring her memory because I don’t have the luxury to make memories as we do with the children that are alive.

For many it is inconceivable that there are daily situation that make me remember. Most of those are not even through my own rummaging through photos or memorabilia, which we anyway have very few. They are just daily mundane incidents that are somehow wired in with A’Mya shaped hole in my heart. Many times I can’t even explain why or how – and it is not important. I don’t have to justify my heart’s longing for my child.

She is my child. She is right here with me, even if not visible to the world. This is just the point. Because she is not physically here, some people assume that she does not or no longer exist. We all have thoughts, wishes, dreams and even though they don’t all exist (in reality) they are still here.

Thank you, friend, you who acknowledges A’Mya’s existence, even if you have never physically met her. You validate her importance to my heart. You validate my heart.

Thank you, friend, who understands that triggers are neither rational nor logical. Your acceptance of my vulnerable heart makes me trust your ability to share my tears with, those that will remain invisible to the rest.

THANK YOU, FRIEND.

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

Do More Than Survive The First Year After Loss

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Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

They did not survive. I did.

Having lost our daughter at 3 days old and then my mother through suicide just four and a half month later I often doubted I would survive this emotional intensity called grief. I was tired of living. I was exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster. Yet suicide was totally out of the question for me as I was acutely aware of the emotional turmoil my mother had left behind in the family surviving her self-chosen death and I was absolutely clear of the important role I played as the mother to my other child.

Did I do more than survive?

How did I survive the first year? I wonder as I’m looking back. Big sigh. Something in me knows but somehow my memory can’t take me there because it’s not necessary to re-live those days? I don’t know. I find it hard to recall the time besides certain moments that have carved their mark on my soul. Luckily I ofter wrote so I can go and read about it. Journal entries, notes to my friends and family, emails, poems and I wrote a blog. All these writings are what lead to friends encouraging me to write a book.

Writing a book wasn’t part of my life’s aspiration. I regularly wrote articles as part of my professional website as a psychotherapist. Even though I had no idea what writing a book would entail, I knew everything could be learned. Fast forward to today I have written and self-published three books and am working on a not-for-profit community project book. The fourth book I’ll be publishing will be an anthology containing the writing of many mothers and fathers like you. They describe the challenges of the first year after the loss, an account of how they managed to survive.

Writing helps

Having just emerged from reading the submissions we’ve received I was taken on a journey back into the experience of the first year. Not just mine but in fact over 50 mothers’ and fathers’ experiences that they candidly shared with me. These essays took my breath away, left me gasping for air and drying my tears. Even though each parent’s experience is unique I could relate, as a mother, as a bereaved mother and as a human being, touched by their loss in the many-faceted challenges it brings.

What I didn’t fully realise when calling for submissions for this new book, was the potential for healing that this project offers. Writing and its healing potential has been researched widely (for example here and here) but reading the essays I noticed so much more. I remember now that I had already noticed this when doing the research and interviews for my first book Grieving Parents: Surviving Loss as a Couple. The intense involvement with my own and other people’s stories, their ways in which they confronted and handled challenges and what happened inside of me in effect to all of this offered a huge shift in my grief towards healing. And it won’t end with me because given the end product is a book many people will receive; it offers this potential to all those who read it.

This post was originally posten on March 1st, 2017.

Don’t Apologize For Your Grief

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grief quote
Handlettered quote by Nathalie Himmelrich

Grief caused collateral damage in my life, my relationships and myself. Almost six years ago, my younger twin daughter died on the third day after her birth, followed by my mother’s death through suicide four and a half month later. The experience of death changed me so intensely that it took years upon years to get to know myself again. And it still continues to some degree.

I hated the wreckage grief caused in my life

I missed the parts of myself that were lost and hated the person I had become: full of anger, resentment, impatience and lack of trust. The first years, I struggled so much that I told my husband “you have the luxury to leave me, I’m stuck with myself”. I would have left if I could. Luckily, I am blessed with a patient and understanding person at my side. More patient than I would have been able to be given the circumstances.

My twin pregnancy was the miracle of the first round of IVF. A miracle because we implanted one fertilized egg and on the first ultrasound found out – to everyone’s surprise – that I carried identical twins. Even though I was considered to be an ‘older mom’ I was somewhat naïve at the things that could possibly ‘go wrong’ to bring a healthy child, let alone two, into this world. I was nineteen weeks pregnant when the ultrasound showed multicystic kidneys in twin B. My journey of grieving the life not yet born and most probably not meant to survive outside the womb started.

At least you have one child

Having one child is better than no child, at least for those who were trying to make me feel better. I stopped counting the times I heard platitudes like “at least you’ve got one and she’s healthy”. Did this mean that there was no reason for me to grieve given the fact that I “at least” had one? Did they want me to apologize for my grief? Of course not. People who haven’t experienced the loss of a child can’t or don’t want to imagine it. Even if they do, this kind of grief is so far from imaginable that it is difficult, if not impossible, to empathize with.

In addition, I had these old tapes playing in my mind; society’s old grief myths tapes. When I wasn’t ‘feeling better’ after one year, I was wondering what I had done wrong. My grief support network supported me saying “this is normal”. Maybe the fact that I felt anything but normal. My experience, compounded by multiple death, both unexpected and at least one through violent force, an intercontinental move and having to care for a newborn – I felt like a zombie.

What does grief really look like?

Trying to make sense of the very thing that never makes sense: the grieving experience. Somehow society in general still hasn’t managed to learn about and teach an accurate image of what grief looks and feels like. This fallacy leaves the bereaved question their experience and fear they are going crazy.

I still notice that I apologize for the fact that I include my dead child in the conversation. I answer honestly when asked, “how many children do you have?”. They look at me even more puzzled when I add “I have twins” when clearly, they only see one. The rewiring of my brain is still in process.

Don’t apologize for your grief – it is the homeless love in action.

Learning To Live Without You

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Image from Nathalie Himmelrich’s personal archives

Dear Child of Mine,

Exactly 5 years ago I conceived you and your sister. I remember it so clearly because I reread the journal entries from that time, describing every day in January. Given our journey to bring you into this world hadn’t happened through natural conception, we started assisted conception at the beginning of January and I decided to document our adventure. But this is a story to be told another time.

Our journey brought us both of you, one to raise on planet earth, and one to learn to live without here present in physical form. I’m still learning… every day.

I’m finding it hard to find the words to express my thoughts and feelings in regards to learning to live without you. It’s something I neither expected nor wanted to learn.

Some have said to me: “No one should have to learn this”.
Others believe: “You were meant to learn this”.
Still others reply: “That’s not even a ‘learning’”.

I should?
I have to?
I never wanted to.
I need to?
I must?
… live without you?

Truthfully, I don’t exactly live without you. You are on my mind, every day. Some days more and some days less. We speak about you. Your sister speaks about you often. She misses you, more so lately, as she really understands the concept of impermanence. She wants a sibling to play with. She doesn’t understand and asks me repeatedly why you couldn’t stay.

I often wonder what the psychological imprint of an identical twin, with whom she spent the first 9 months of her life side by side, leaves behind.

I wonder whether there is consciousness that still connects you from your side with us on our side. We still think of you so often, what about you?

I wonder what you would be like, whether you’d be as energetic as your sister, as verbal and argumentative… I don’t need any help imagining what you would look like given you are identical twin sisters but I wonder how you would be different from your sister.

Would you have the same blond locks, the irresistible giggle when we’d play tickle games? Would you be as bossy as your sister and if so, who would be the one telling the other what to do?

I’m sure your kisses and hugs would be as sweet as your sister’s. Your enjoyment and excitement would match hers. You would probably listen to stories side by side and sing along with Frozen’s theme song together. I don’t doubt you’d enjoy art class, theatre and play group as much as she does.

I’m learning to live without you. I like this statements as it implies a process, something that is happening. It does not proclaim an end or a beginning. I live, without you living by my side. It doesn’t mean I forget you. How could I. Why would I? There is no need to forget. In fact, it is healthier to remember with reverence.

Recently I read on a friend’s post, celebrating his son’s (who had passed as a toddler) 19th birthday: ‘Still learning to live without you’.

Still? There are different meanings to this word. Most likely in this context, it means: up to and including the present or the time mentioned; even now (or then) as formerly.

I have accepted the loss.
Still, I miss you. I miss your unique giggle.
Still, I love you. I love the memory of you and your sister in my womb.

Still, you are part of me.
Still, I am your mother and you are mine. My child.

As Lexi Behrndt from Scribbles & Crumbs so aptly said: “No passage of time will ever change this.” (Quote as I remember it…)

¸.•´*¨`*•✿      ✿      ✿•*´¨*`•.¸

I love you. Full stop. 

¸.•´*¨`*•✿      ✿      ✿•*´¨*`•.¸

This article was first published January 6, 2016 in Still Standing Magazine.

My Dear ‘Would –Be’ Child

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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.