A Grief Reflection: If Only...

By Sue Elvis

From my grief diary:

2^nd December

… I feel like staying home for Christmas instead of going to Sarah and Shaun’s as planned. It will be hard to stay cheerful and festive and I don’t want to spoil anyone’s day. In fact I feel like staying in my room and not seeing anyone until I feel better. This may be months. I don’t want to impose on anyone, to be a nuisance and to have people get fed-up with me talking about Thomas all the time…

 11^th December

… Christmas is getting nearer and as it approaches I feel even more miserable. I don’t want to shop or send Christmas cards. I don’t even want to receive cards or presents. It is difficult to show an interest in the Christmas cooking or other plans…

18^th December 1999

Andy and I went to finish the Christmas shopping… I kept thinking if only we had our baby in our arms, we could be happy this Christmas…

23^rd December 1999

Andy came home early for the Christmas holidays. I get moments of Christmas excitement which get extinguished very quickly as I remember Thomas…

My baby died six weeks before Christmas and as Christmas Day drew closer, an added burden dragged upon my heart. I felt like the only sorrowful person in a world of rejoicing people.

Friends asked us to join in with their celebrations and although we did accept their invitation, all I really wanted to do was spend Christmas alone with my misery.  The effort needed to look cheerful seemed beyond me and I didn’t want to be blamed for spoiling everyone else’s joy.

But every now and then, when I least expected it, that well-known feeling of Christmas excitement and anticipation passed through me: at the sound of a beautiful carol, at the thought of my children unwrapping their gifts… But then all at once I’d remember, and the excitement would vanish.

I imagined my son six weeks old in my arms, and I thought “If only… If only my baby had been healthy… If only God had healed him in the womb… If only the doctors had been able to save him... If only he were here with us, I could be happy this Christmas and everything would be alright.”

But of course, ‘if only’ never happens. That isn’t the way to healing and joy and peace. I had to find another way: acceptance, trust, prayer…

Do you ever think, “If only…”?

Please share my story If Only… at my blog Sue Elvis Writes

The Very Lonely Experience of Grief

By Sue Elvis

At an 18 week ultrasound our unborn baby was diagnosed with a diaphragmatic hernia. We were told our baby would probably not survive after birth because there was not enough room in his lung cavity to allow sufficient lung tissue to develop: he wouldn’t be able to breathe without the aid of a respirator. We prayed for a miracle but Thomas lived only 28 hours. He was born on 9^th November.

From my diary

26^th November

I saw Dr M. for the first time since Thomas died. I don’t know if she was going to say anything about our baby but I got out my photo box to show her anyway. Dr M. cried as she looked at the photos…

The receptionist, Jenny asked me how I was, on my way out. I told her we’d had our baby, and it was obvious that it hadn’t crossed her mind all was not well. She’d forgotten we’d had problems during the pregnancy. She was taken aback when I said, “He died two weeks ago.” Jenny also looked at the photos and she also cried. I was quite calm and dry-eyed and felt like the only person in control.

However moods change quickly and this afternoon I am weepy…

I remember how reluctant people were to bring up the subject of our baby. I wanted and needed to talk about Thomas but no one said, “Tell me about your baby. Tell me about Thomas.”  I took my photo box wherever I went, in the hope that someone would want to share the photos of our son.

I hadn’t seen Doctor M. for some weeks because she’d passed my antenatal care onto a specialist. When I went to see her two weeks after Thomas’ birth about another matter, I wanted to tell her about our son. I had my Thomas box with me and I wanted to show her all the sad but beautiful photos. I wanted her to take an interest in our baby who had so recently died. The doctor didn’t immediately ask about Thomas. I thought maybe she wasn’t going to say anything but I was determined to show her all the evidence of his fleeting life. I think I wanted Doctor M. to suffer too. I wanted her to feel my pain, to leave her seemingly happy life even for a few minutes and join me in my sorrow.

I was upset the receptionist Jenny didn’t remember that our baby was probably going to die after birth. How could she have forgotten something that we’d thought about every minute of every day for the last few months? And so I wanted her to feel our pain too. I wanted her to cry even a few tears, to relieve me of a few of mine.

I didn’t weep with the doctor or the receptionist. Someone once remarked that we only cry with those people with whom we feel comfortable, those we feel truly care about us and our sorrow. Maybe this is true.

When I returned home it didn’t take long for the tears to appear again. I was back alone with my grief. The doctor had probably dried her eyes and was attending to another patient. I’d touched her with my sorrow for a few minutes but it was my pain, not hers.  She couldn't really feel the depths of my suffering. No one can unless they have had a similar experience.

Grief is a very lonely existence.

But I found out that sharing experiences with other grief-stricken parents helped. We’ve all passed through that one way door of intense suffering. We all, without wanting to, belong to that exclusive club where the price of membership is so very high: the loss of a child. We all know the depths of the pain. And we all realise we are not alone. There is someone else who understands.

Please share my stories on my blog Sue Elvis Writes

Prayers for the Loss of a Child

For those parents that have suffered the loss of a child these are prayers for you. God bless and keep you in His loving care.

For a Baptized Child

Lord of all gentleness, surround us with Your care and comfort us in our sorrow, for we grieve at the loss of this [little] child. As You washed (Name) in the waters of baptism and welcomed him/her into the life of heaven, so call us one day to be reunited with him/her and share forever in the joy of Your kingdom. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

For an Unbaptized Child

O Lord, Whose ways are beyong understanding, listen to the prayers of Your faithful people: that those weighed down by grief at the loss of this [little] child may find reassurance in Your infinite goodness. Amen.

For a Stillborn Child

Lord God, ever caring and gentle, we commit to Your love this little one, quickened to life for so short a time. Enfold him/her in eternal life. We pray for his/her parents who are saddened by the loss of their child. Give them courage and help them in their pain and grief. May they all meet one day in the joy and peace of Your kingdom. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

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