I feel like this post has been a long time coming. Way too long actually. So I’ll just rip off the band-aid. We’re pretty good at that here. Our marriage after child loss is different. It’s stronger.
When my son died, my marriage was tested.
Not because it negatively impacted my feelings about my husband or the relationship we shared. Quite the opposite actually. We have a stronger relationship now than we did before our tragedy happened.
But we were thrown into a circumstance that had us trying to process a lot of emotions. We weren’t feeling all the same things all of the time or at the same time. The days I wanted to talk about it were potentially the days my husband didn’t want to. The days I wanted to escape were sometimes the days my husband wanted to lean into the pain.
Child loss changed my marriage. It has evolved into something I never thought possible and this “togetherness” is one of the positive lights that has gotten brighter after losing our son.
The hours after Chase died are forever in my memory. There was lots going on. Phone calls, interviews, police, investigators, tears, questions and the inevitable kisses goodbye. Then all of the sudden it was silent.
We had made the drive back to our home and now it was just quiet. My husband and I were in our bedroom, purely going through the motions. Shoes go here. Drop keys here. Grab pajama pants from this drawer. Then somehow we met-up on the same circle of carpet. And we hugged.
As we were slowly letting our arms fall I remember telling my husband that we have to keep checking in with each other. Through all of the grief, funeral planning, visitors, sympathy cards, and whatever else that was going to be headed our way, we had to check-in with each other.
It’s not easy grieving “together” all of the time. Damn near impossible actually.
Have you ever woken up feeling kinda sad? You’re in a funk and not really feelin’ like making too much of an effort. Then someone comes along, probably skipping and with a big smile on their face. They are happy because they just scored the winning goal, received some exciting news, or not even as significant, are just really pleased that it’s sunny out.
Yet, you find yourself wanting them to sit in your sadness. Even just for a little while. But they’re just too happy and you feel guilty for asking them to come down off of their high.
Or maybe you’re the one who’s having the great day?! And the thought of being in someone else’s sadness is not on your radar, and you’re just not ready to come down yet. And you definitely don’t want to resent them for making you.
Bottom line –
We’re all allowed to feel different things at different times.
It’s important to grieve apart AND together.
Many of our neighbors sent their condolences when Chase passed away. Even if we didn’t know them personally, they knew what had happened because we’d asked for forgiveness for taking over the street parking the day of his funeral. Or they noticed we weren’t taking stroller walks anymore.
One day, I saw my husband talking to our neighbors across the street. They are a very nice couple with two little boys. I’m not exactly sure how the events unfolded because I was hunkered down in the house. I think it started when my husband went to get the mail. He got to talking with the neighbors about baseball and even threw a few balls at the kids. Well, at their bats. Not intentionally at them. That’s just dangerous.
My husband came home and told me about his meeting and that I should really meet the neighbors sometime.
My response…”yeah, that’s not happening.”
My desire to talk with a family who had children, let alone a boy (or two?!) was less than none. In fact, if I wasn’t already tired, from being pregnant with our daughter, I would have literally run the other way (who am I kidding, I’m not a runner, I would have just stayed put).
I’ll admit it, there was a part of me that was kinda mad that he wanted to talk to them. Or maybe ‘want’ is too generous. A part of me was kinda mad that he talked to them period.
If I was still hiding from happy families, then why wasn’t he?
Sometimes when you’re grieving, you just have to go off of feeling. And those feelings are totally allowed to change at a moment’s notice.
That day or maybe even just for those ten minutes, my husband felt okay engaging in conversation with our neighbors. I did not.
But we talked about it. He never pushed me (literally or figuratively) across the street to meet our neighbors. I eventually made it across the street on my own. Months later. And we eventually became Godparents to one of their little boys (I know, right?!).
We listened and we heard.
He listened when I said I wasn’t ready to hang out with friends, or meet new people. Or when he just wanted to stay home and I was ready to do something. We talked about it.
Saying you just don’t feel like doing something can be a helpful statement. I mean, it’s an answer.
But saying you don’t feel like it, because it makes you sad, or has you remembering something painful provides a little more insight and lets you be honest about your feelings. Or even admitting that you don’t know why you don’t feel like it, but you’re just not ready, can give your partner a little more information. A lot of times I’d tell my husband that I wanted my answer to be different, but I just wasn’t there.
And I’ll be honest. It’s been seven years and I still don’t feel like it with some things.
There have been numerous studies on the divorce rate of married couples who have had a child pass away.
I don’t believe the statistics are all that important really.
What I do take away from these studies is the callout that having your child go to heaven is a really stressful event.
- Be kind
- Be thoughtful
- Be honest
- Be quiet
- Be patient
- Be heard
You’re in this together – yes, even through the times you feel apart.
5 Essentials to Rediscovering Your Joy After Loss
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