The five stages of grief (Kübler-Ross model) are well-known.
Depression.
Bargaining.
Anger.
Denial & Isolation.
Acceptance.
I didn’t put them in order for a reason, because there really isn’t an order. When you’re grieving, you supposedly go back and forth, in and out, of each stage rather easily. Unless you’ve grieved someone, or something, you don’t realize what grief can really do, and the toll it can take. In fact, in the middle of it, you may not even be able to realize you’re grieving.
After talking with many women who have experienced perinatal stroke with their child, I realized how common it was for us to grieve the life we thought our child would have, and to grieve the beginning of motherhood the way we had pictured it.
The best way I can explain my entry into motherhood is that I felt like I was on a cruise ship, preparing for the exciting departure onto the beautiful beach of white sand and crystal blue waters, only to be caught by a storm, thrashed around on the boat, and thrown overboard, left to tread water and trying not to drown. There may have been a few people throwing me a life preserver, but I was so caught up in the wind and salty seas and giant waves that I couldn’t even see those trying to help. It was just me and the tormenting ocean with no way out, gasping for air.
It’s pretty vivid, isn’t it? Not the way you’d imagine most people would describe entry into motherhood. Yet, I bet there are other mamas who might relate – those who have spent countless nights in a hospital watching over their baby, those who have miscarried, those who have had to leave the NICU while their child stayed behind, those who have a child w/ an illness or cancer…I saw so many families and babies in those hospitals we were in and out of the first year of Alex’s life.
After Alex was diagnosed as having a stroke, for months I feared the absolute worst. My husband and I tried to get his seizures under control. I emailed and called every epilepsy doctor in the United States to ask for opinions, send MRIs and EEGs, and desperately researched every possible life-saving medication to try. Many of you already know our story…
It’s taken me a while to get here, to get to the place where I’m working on catching the life preservers and allowing myself to be rescued. Asking for help was a big step in that direction, and seeking out a medical professional who is trained in trauma and grief to walk me through PTSD and find my footing again on solid ground – that has saved me.
To the mamas out there that have lived this, or something like it – I know you know exactly what being thrown overboard feels like. Please remember, we all grieve in our own ways, and in our own time, and it’s ok to not fit into someone else’s timeline of when you should be “over it.”
To everyone else – I’m asking to extend a little grace to us. Grace because yes, we may not be ourselves. Grace because maybe you’ve found it’s difficult to be around us, or because we aren’t the sunshine-y people we used to be. And sadly, we know it. We recognize how hard it is to sometimes get out of bed and “show up.” Please, know that we are trying. We’re trying and fighting with everything we have, all while fighting battles for our kids and advocating like hell for them to have the best life possible.
It’s quite possible that feeling this way has isolated us. We’ve pushed those we love away. Maybe this has caused us to struggle with joy, and maybe we don’t smile quite as much as we used to. Maybe it’s caused a rift in a friendship. Yet, we do smile. And we do have joy. And I bet you, if you asked us about our child, there would be a huge smile on our faces – because that’s what has us getting up every morning, showing up, and trying.
Mama warriors – give yourself a little grace too. There may be people who have walked out on you, given up, or found it too difficult to walk with you through the valley. It’s ok to let them go. Those that matter – they won’t give up. They’ll stand tall beside you, proud to be your friend. They’ll pray for you, or with you, and never leave your side.
With that said, we shouldn’t forget to say thank you to those who have stood beside us and not given up. Who showed up, even though they didn’t know what to say. Who carried us through and got us to this point. THANK YOU. Thank you for not giving up on us, for seeing us for who you know we are inside, and extending the grace we so desperately needed.
Grace. It’s an amazing thing, isn’t it? When we’re all not trying to be so perfect, and we can just be real.
If you’ve been through some really tough stuff, I get it. You might feel like life will never be the same. But I believe we will be our old selves again – most likely, we’ll be an even better version. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even next week. But I know God is providing grace for us all, and it will be through Him that we all feel whole again.
In those moments of weakness, when you’re not perfect and life is hard, find grace.
When your friend is upset with you, and you can’t understand her but you know what a challenging road she’s traveled, find grace.
When you can’t seem to find God, and you feel all alone, trust that He is with you, showering you in grace.
2 Corinthians 12: 8-9 Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.