Nathalie Himmelrich

Inspiring Hope | Finding healthy ways of Grieving | Writer

understanding grief

A Letter To The Friend Of A ‘New Normal’ Grieving Mother

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letter
Photo by Kate Macate on Unsplash

Dear Friend,

It’s been awhile since I’ve contacted you. I was busy. Busy surviving. Busy grieving.

I have been more focused on my journey and me than anyone else’s. I had to. For my own and my family’s sake. Otherwise I might no longer be around.

My child has died and even if/though this is months or even years ago, my memory is as fresh as if it was yesterday. For the outside world it has become a story, the story people tell each other at the shop about the woman who lost her baby. But even those conversations have started to die as the news is no longer headline worthy. In the best of cases, it has become a memory. A fading memory.

I might seem better from the outside and in comparison to the first weeks and months I am… Or so it seems. And then grief rolls over me like the unexpected wave that catches me from behind. These were the moments I didn’t recognise myself. The moments I was the crazy ‘new normal’ woman loudly cursing every detail about her life, wishing death upon her to end this pain. This however usually happened (not so) quietly behind closed doors. They have become less frequent… By not contacting you, you were spared those moments. You wouldn’t have liked them. I didn’t and still don’t. You might have been so shocked by your ‘new normal’ friend that you never contacted her again.

It has been a hard road to get used to the ‘new normal’ me, which honestly is nothing like the normal me you and I knew. Ask the husband, the rock – who knows how he managed to not walk out the door. I’ve kept the ‘new normal’ inside a lot because you see, she has no (or little) social grace. I prefer to spend time with her by my own, not that she is pleasurable company but she just doesn’t fit in my life pre-loss. It was my way to save whatever face was left.

I haven’t just been a crappy ‘new normal’ friend I’ve also been crappy ‘new normal’ mother, wife, sister, daughter, human being. Once I’ve realised that I actually had to merge with the ‘new normal’ myself, I struggled with this truth. She or rather I had to relearn what it means to live, to treat people, to care for myself, to be in relationship, to be a responsible human being, to treat things and people respectfully… Most of all myself.

The ‘new normal’ doesn’t have energy nor desire to be pleasing as I was before. I’ve given up on returning to or getting back the self that used to be me – I’ve given in on being ‘new normal’. Resistance is exhausting and fruitless. The more honest and straight-forward I’ve noticed the ‘new normal’ was and is, the less socially digestible I’ve found myself to be. A simple ‘starting-a-conversation’ question like “and how many children do you have?” make the ‘new normal’ a party killer. And for those who know the story, I can imagine them rolling their eyes and thinking: “Here we go again…”

The sad truth is I’ve become quite used to the fact that my friends prefer to stay away from ‘new normal’ and I can sort of understand their potential motivation. As much as the ‘new normal’ has needed to talk about it she/I might have also strained your ears and overused your capacity to listen. I myself would prefer the ‘new normal’ would be able to tell a different life story.

Now I want to be a good new normal friend.

The new normal good friend is honest, real and authentic.

When I integrate the new normal…

I will call or contact you when I truly feel like it.

I will tell it like it is.

I will always mention all my children, dead or alive.

I will learn to love myself, life and what I’ve come here for.

I will appreciate your patience, love and care.

I will be human, fallible and imperfect.

And I’ll hope you to meet your humanness too.

Thank you,

Your friend

This article was first published July 1, 2015 in Still Standing Magazine.

Why Grievers Are Often Misunderstood

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woman at the window
Photo by Thijs Kennis on Unsplash

Recently, in one week 80% of my arrangements to meet up with friends got cancelled. Not by me. I was utterly disappointed.

Maybe I’m a highly sensitive person, or perhaps I simply get easily disappointed. So when I inquired into one specific cancellation, which happened to be with another bereaved mother, she said:

“Since the death of my son five years ago I experience a daily challenge of organising my calendar, regularly double book myself (which is what happened on our supposed meeting day) or have people show up at my door without remembering why. This is just how it is.”

As much as I understood and could relate to what she described I was also hurt that we wouldn’t meet up, that our daughters wouldn’t be able to play with each other.

I took the sum of cancellations personally and reacted with overwhelm and lack of motivation for anything.

I even posted about my disappointment on my personal page on Facebook which I only very irregularly do nowadays.

Then, I realized something much bigger

This is where grievers are so often misunderstood. Her short-term grief experience is as unique as the longer-term effects she’s experiencing in her life. Full stop.

Even though we are both bereaved mothers I am reminded that I CANNOT compare myself to her. It’s human nature to compare and to want to find someone to relate to and feel understood by. ‘She experienced what I have’ I hear myself thinking.

“You are the first one who truly understands what I’ve been going through” numerous clients had said to me. It’s true: another bereaved person at least has a bit of insight into what is going on… but really – just ‘a bit’.

Grievers misunderstand other grievers when they compare their grief or are in different places relating to their loss. Every comparison of grief is a total misunderstanding of the uniqueness of EACH and EVERY loss, of the uniqueness of each relationship and each griever. The only two losses that can ever be compared are your own and even this comparison is not helpful.

Grievers are misunderstood because a non-griever is looking from that perspective of ‘not currently grieving’ and is simply not capable of relating. That’s when unhelpful myths like ‘just forget about it and you’ll feel better’ or old-fashioned beliefs like ‘you just need time’ get uttered in helpless attempts to sooth the pain.

Grievers are so often misunderstood and – at the same time – misunderstand those who might not be grieving a loss at this specific time or even others who are grieving differently or are in a different place with their grief.

Grievers expect the ‘outside’ world to have an empathy and understanding that far fewer people are capable of than those that – magically – seem to have that skill, gift or empathy, even without having a personal experience of that kind of loss.

This article was first published November 4, 2015 in Still Standing Magazine.

Why We Need To Talk About Child Loss

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hands and coffee on table
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Why do we need to talk about child loss, when it is so hard…

When are we met with silence?
When people just don’t get it, unless they have experienced it themselves?

When all we need is to be understood and taken care of because grieving sucks all our energy?

It seems pointless but it’s not, in fact, it’s so important if we want to create change.

Let me tell you why we need to talk about child loss.

The hard conversation about child loss

Many bereaved parents speak to me about the fact that ‘people just don’t get it’. They find it hard to explain the reality of grief after child loss. Child loss is hard to talk about.

‘My child is dead’ is a conversation stopper. The reality of a child dying before their parents make people feel lost for words. The potential of facing strong emotions is avoided at all cost. Grief is one of those cauldrons of strong emotions that many are afraid of.

Understanding grief

Society largely lacks the proper understanding of grief. They still believe in antiquated beliefs or stories based on the past. Grief IS a normal reaction to a significant loss. In order to achieve a wider understanding of this, we need to open up about it.

Change happens after the realization and acceptance of something being outdated. In order for this to be realized, we need to share our individually experienced reality. This is how we bring awareness to what’s not working and what helps.

Adequate grief support

People avoid mentioning our child because they don’t know whether it is ok for us given the circumstances. They fail to give us adequate support because they don’t have clarity on what this is. They fear to do or say the wrong thing and often end up doing nothing at all. They have no idea what to say but truly intend to make things better for us.  Yet, the only thing that would make it better – to have our child back – isn’t possible.

Grieving is the very action required to digest the loss. It is so subjective that each individual story counts towards this wider understanding and acceptance. Grieving becomes harder when we don’t feel accepted in our way of grieving or that we have the right to (still) grieve.

Let’s make a change

Collectively, we can change that by sharing our stories.
We can change the story about grief and grieving.

Why You Will Never Fully Understand My Grief Experience As A Bereaved Mother

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Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

The experience of every bereaved mother (or father) is unique and so is their grieving experience. You can never fully understand another bereaved mother’s experience, even if you sit with her through the dark of the night, talk to her for hours, cry endless tears in compassion. I’ve tried. And I might have one advantage: I myself am a bereaved mother.

Let go

As much I have been hoping that I could, I can’t fully understand what another bereaved parent is going through. I still do my best at understanding the bereaved families I’m working with and according to them, I’m doing a great job but I have let go of the unattainable: to totally and utterly understand their despair.

In that letting go, there is something else that opens up, something with far greater potential. Rather than trying to enter their experience and in that wondering how that would feel within me, I stay with them. It takes courage and compassion to totally be with someone else, without an ounce of the self who is ‘wanting to make it better for them’ or ‘helping’ them. After all that’s my job, supporting them in finding healing. But here is the thing: the pain of missing someone who is no longer physically present is not something that needs healing or fixing.

Grieving parents have something in common. They must continue their life without seeing their babies grow up to be children or their children to grow up to become adults. Grief is like unrequited love but one where the relationship hasn’t ended even though the person has left and is not contactable. That’s the paradox of child loss.

What if I’m not a bereaved mother?

As someone who hasn’t experienced the loss of a child, you can still be there for bereaved parents. You can walk side by side with them and support them with your love. You don’t need to understand their experience to accept how they express or live with it.

So, be there. Don’t try to fix them but stay with them through the darkness. The presence you show by your willingness to fully be there, is enough. You are enough, even if you don’t fully understand the grief experience.

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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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