By Guest Blogger on May 10, 2012
Grieving is a personal experience. Depending on who you are and the nature of your loss, your process of grieving will be different from another person’s. There is no “normal and expected” period of time for grieving. Some people take a year or more, particularly when their daily life has been radically changed by traumatic and unexpected loss.
On May 10, 2011, I lost my remarkable son Anthony to a tragic accident. He was 23 years old. I am writing this only two months after this horrifying experience.
Words cannot describe the immense pain felt by a parent who loses a child. As a bereaved parent, you realize that your life will never be the same … never. Your life has suddenly taken an unexpected course that appears and feels unknown, unsure and endless; that is called grief.
There are some wonderful support groups for parents. I attended my first one just three weeks after Anthony’s death. It’s called Compassionate Friends. The people here are experiencing the same type of pain that I am, although our journeys are different.
I realize that my tears are a way to be gentle and loving to myself and they should be honored as precious tender drops of love and remembrance of my son Anthony. Really feeling all this pain is the first step in the grieving process and my way through the first 12 months. Until the pain is felt deeply, with every moment and the loss is truly acknowledged, it is not possible to move on to celebrating the life of your loved one. So with that being expressed, I let the tears come.
The grieving process gives us time to reflect and find new strength that enables us to continue life’s journey and regain some peace of mind. I have recognized that grieving and its stresses seem tolerable, with loving self-care habits. It helps to have a close circle of loving family and friends. It also helps to have proper nourishment for your body — a nutritious, balanced diet with plenty of raw vegetables, plenty of nourishing water and non-alcoholic fluids, exercise or some type of movement for the body and plenty of rest. I’ve learned to not say I can’t do something because of this traumatic, awful life experience … this is not easy, but it is a necessity.
Most people are unprepared for grief because so often, tragedy strikes suddenly, without warning. If excellent loving self-care habits are part of your life, it will help you deal with the pain and shock of loss until the last stage of grief, which is acceptance, is reached. I am walking the path on this journey and not sure where it will take me, but one thing that is clear in my mind is that loving others and myself is the only path I can walk down, knowing I am not alone.
Some supportive suggestions and thoughts
Birthdays
Birthdays are a celebration of the day your child became a precious gift to the world. My son’s birthday, June 16, was five weeks after his death. My family and I did several things to honor him and help our healing.
1. Light a candle: A mother’s bond of love with her child can never be broken. Lighting a candle on my son’s birthday was very healing. I used a battery-operated candle to illuminate the entire day.
2. Attend a religious service on your child’s birthday: We did this, and it was also very healing.
3. Celebrate: My daughter Sarah and I recently set aside special time on Anthony’s birthday. We got on the Internet/webcam and made his favorite dessert together. My parents and sister’s family (both out of state) had a special dinner together with a birthday cake for Anthony.
Mother’s Day
Traditionally a day of celebration, Mother’s Day can be a day of pain and loss for mothers who have lost a child. Below are some tips for remembering those moms who have had an unsuccessful pregnancy or have lost a child of any age.
1. Acknowledge that she is a mother: Offer a hug and kiss, and wish her a happy Mother’s Day. Send a card to let her know you remember she’s a mother, even though her child is not physically with her. A mother’s bond of love with her child can never be broken.
2. Acknowledge her loss: Express/connect and share the message, “I know this is difficult day for you. I want you to know that I am thinking about you.”
3. Use her child’s name in conversation: When family and friends talk about my son, Anthony, it’s like music to my ears. I love talking, listening and sharing special moments with others.
4. Plant a living memorial: A perennial flower, tree or rose bush — like memories — will grow in beauty.
5. Light a candle: Let the mother know you will light a candle in memory of her child.
6. Share a memory or pictures of the child: Give the gift of a memory. One mother wrote that the “greatest gift you can give is a heartfelt letter about my child and a favorite memory of them.”
7. Don’t try to minimize the loss: Avoid using any clichés that attempt to explain the death of a child.
8. Encourage self-care: Self-care is an important aspect of the effort to heal the mind and spirit. Encourage a grieving mother to take care of herself. Give her a gift certificate to a day spa or any place where she can be pampered. Right after Anthony’s death, it took all my energy simply to shower and put on mascara.
While the above suggestions are intended for Mother’s Day, they can be helpful for grieving mothers any day of the year.
My love goes out to all women who experience this pain. We are connected, and we are loved.
Robin Legittino is a certified holistic nutritional consultant and NASM-certified personal trainer. She served in the United States Marine Corps and is the mother of two children and the grandmother of one.
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By Peggy Drexler PhD on March 9, 2012
A while ago, I was rushing up the street, carrying groceries and my briefcase, barely closed from all I had stuffed inside it, trying not to be late to pick up my daughter from basketball practice. One of her classmates, 13-year-old Damien, was walking from school toward me. I’d known Damien and his family for years, as part of a study I was conducting on boys and moms.
“Can I help you with that?” he asked in a concerned voice.
Although the bag was tearing from the weight of its contents and the awkward way I was holding it, his question almost made me drop everything completely. People were meandering in both directions, and no one else noticed that I was struggling, but Damien saw in one glance that I needed help and immediately offered it. He took my grocery bag and walked back up to school with me. When I thanked him, he just smiled politely, said it wasn’t a problem, waved and continued off down the street.
Until fifth grade, he wore his hair short and he dressed in nothing but jeans and T-shirts. Even after he let his hair grow long in sixth grade and wore red bandannas like the Hells Angels, he didn’t let anybody’s idea of what was “girlish” affect his behavior. In the school’s annual musical, Damien stole the show with his theatrical poise and warm response to the loud applause from the audience. His onstage theatrics – a very liberating experience for boys – did nothing to prevent him from being the first out on the play yard at recess for kickball, running successfully for class representative to the student council, or being a sometimes goofy but articulate class participant.
I call children like Damien “head and heart boys.” Years of research on families and parenting have shown me how successful moms raise self-assured and caring sons by nurturing their boy power – the artful combination of physicality and sensitivity to others’ needs and feelings. To help your son grow up with confidence and respect for others:
1. Help him develop a strong sense of well-being and sensitivity to the needs and feeling of others.
Talk and talk and talk with (not at) your son, and then talk some more. As boys discover they are worthy of respect and understanding, they learn to respect and empathize with others. Encourage your son to recognize how he feels and show it, whether the feeling is good or bad. Talk with him about what may be making him feel that way. Learning about his own feelings can help your son connect with others and develop into a caring, sensitive man.
Boys tend to shy away from face-to-face discussions. Connect with him in any way you can, anywhere you can. Use toys to prompt discussion. One mom uses puppets with her young son to talk about events in their lives. Initiate conversations in the car, on the basketball court or in the kitchen while cooking together. Despite feeling tired at the end of her workday, one mom began playing basketball with her teenage son because he seemed withdrawn. She expected it to be all dribble and shoot, but when they started playing, her son opened up, sharing his thoughts and feelings about school and home.
Listen to what your son tells you – or doesn’t tell you. Look for messages even in silence or outbursts. Listening – not just to the words, but to the feelings behind them – can reveal the kind of mothering your son needs to help him become a man.
Ten-year-old Caleb struggled with being small for his age. During hide-and-seek, he and his mom brainstormed about the advantages of being small, like finding a really good place to hide. Since people underestimated his superior athletic abilities, he had a secret weapon. Later, when a cousin said he was small for his age, Caleb easily listed all the good things about being small!
And while you’re talking, repeatedly share your own values, including consciously challenging gender and other stereotypes, even when your son seems to tune out.
2. Foster his respect for others.
Respect for ourselves feeds our respect for others. So accept who he is, instead of trying to mold him into your vision of what you think he should be.
You can encourage him to be responsible to himself by helping him set his own goals and expectations, and then live up to them. He will also learn responsibility to others by doing his share of household chores and other age-appropriate duties.
Establish clear guidelines for behavior and expectations for how family members and others are treated. Helping your son relate well to family and friends will help him become a reflective, conscious, centered adult with a strong sense of identity and moral fiber.
3. Help him find a variety of good role models, both men and women.
Start with yourself and other moms you know. His respect for you and other women friends teaches him respect for women. He learns such qualities as patience by observing patience in you and others. As his mom, model the kind of strength and heroism commonly associated with men. Your power, leadership, determination and ability to achieve set a strong personal example for your son. Knowing women he can emulate helps erase culturally ingrained gender stereotypes.
Boys benefit by having many role models, so whether there’s a father at home or not, actively recruit men as friends and role models for your son. In addition to men in the family, look for babysitters, tutors, coaches and Big Brothers who can play this role. Sports superstars, fictional characters like Harry Potter and other heroes also give boys a range of men to emulate.
One mom makes sure her five-year-old son, Cody, interacts with males as much as possible. “When I’m with my brothers-in-law or nephews, [I say], ‘You guys, take him to the bathroom,’ or ‘You guys, go do guy things.’” Strong mothers give their sons a range of models for manhood.
4. Stay connected. Learning to value intimacy and close relationships will help him succeed with a future wife or partner.
Don’t buy into fear of being too close to your son, no matter what his age. Closeness and conversation lead to a natural and lifelong intimacy between mother and son. This means frequently stepping out of your comfort zone to meet his needs, including roughhousing and playing with your son any way you can. Encourage physical and emotional expressions of affection at home even when he tries to push you away. (In public allow him any space he requires.) Adapt the ways you connect with your son to stay close as he grows intellectually, emotionally and physically.
As he grows, you can help him lead a double-life on the emotional front. If he is standoffish in public, he can still enjoy the mothering he secretly still craves in the privacy of home. Allowing boys to show their soft, vulnerable side with you keeps those emotions alive. As your son grows older, be sure to keep the dialogue open even when you don’t agree with his choices.
The deep emotional connection between mothers and sons has been demonized for far too long. Just as your son has inherent boy power, you have the mom power it takes to raise a son who is self-assured and respectful of others. By nurturing his emotional IQ, teaching him to care for others, providing him with positive role models and staying close to him as he grows up, you can give him what he needs to become a confident, empathic person and an exceptional man.
For more by this author, visit: PeggyDrexler.com.
Photo credit: Ed Yourdon
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By Guest Blogger on January 5, 2012
Six weeks ago, totally out of the blue, I was diagnosed with incurable metastatic bone disease. My spine and pelvis were apparently riddled with tumors that were the cause of my recent backache. At 38 and as the active mother of two very young children, I had put it down to a pulled muscle from making up the top bunk bed. I’m an elementary school teacher, too, so I have loads of opportunities to pull weird muscles chasing (or dancing with) kids. And loads of reasons for “forgetting” about them, expecting them to go away of their own accord.
Within minutes, my husband and I were wondering: “How the hell do we tell the children this?” Our two are ages 7 and 4, utterly incredible (of course) and really close to us. We have always made a point out of being honest with our kids, even about the difficult stuff, but somehow this one seemed insurmountable. So we did a lot of soul-searching and rehearsal. Literally. Practiced being the kids hearing bits of information and putting two and two together to make 42. Making sense out of the fragments we had was almost impossible for us, let alone for my little boy, whose tiny hands still stroke my cheek to wake me in the morning. It took a while, but we came up with a plan.
The fact that we only had a partial diagnosis initially was helpful, because it enabled us to stagger the news we shared. This allowed the children to process the information in little bits and think of questions. Realistically, they followed our lead and were calm, factual and positive, because we were.
At first, we just explained what would affect them: that we had to cancel our family vacation this summer because the doctors wanted to try and work out why my back wasn’t getting better. As we always flew to the States for the summer, this would be their first in England, and we’d try to do lots of fun things closer to home. They were devastated about cancelling the trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s but quickly understood that we’d go next summer and that perhaps they could come to us soon.
A few days later, while we were all curled up reading books, we stopped to explain that the doctors had discovered that there was a disease in my backbones that had started somewhere else in my body, but we didn’t know where yet. We were clear that no one had given it to me and no one could catch it from me. As kids are so drilled about “Coughs and sneezes spread diseases,” we thought this last bit was particularly important.
Then I got out a chocolate bar called an Aero (I’m sure there must be some equivalent in the States; it’s chocolate-filled with bubbles but smooth on the outside). I explained that a bone is a bit like the chocolate bar. The outside looks smooth and hard, but when you look inside, it’s made up of little bubbles.
“If the bubbles were bigger, how would it taste?”
“Not so chocolatey.”
“Would it be stronger or more crumbly if the bubbles were bigger?”
“It would break more, or bits would cave in.”
So then, of course, we explained that my bone was like the bar, but in places there were bigger bubbles growing because of the disease. That was making the bones delicate and painful. Then they got to eat the bar, but I wasn’t allowed any.
“But Mummy loves chocolate!” my daughter protested. We went on to explain that there were certain foods that would make my back worse, and some that would make it better. Simply speaking, white foods were out, and rainbow foods were in — especially green foods. We listed all the white foods we could think of: sugar, milk, ice cream, flour, rice, pasta, mashed potatoes, white sauce. Then we went into the kitchen and introduced other things I could have instead: agave, almond milk, wild rice or spelt, yams. No decent alternative to béchamel sauce yet. They loved tasting everything and made their preference clear (agave=yum, wheatgrass= yeurgh!).
As my juicing and vegan diet reached into our days, they became engaged with exploring all sorts of flavors. The spiralizer is a great favorite, and they love the carrot-zucchini spaghetti — who wouldn’t? We grow a lot of our own produce, so juice inventions have become a daily game. Beet, black currant and red grape; watercress and kiwi; carrot, pineapple and ginger; spinach and apple were all quickly popular (actually, only I liked the watercress and kiwi one, but I like it enough for everyone else put together!). We tried to juice like colors together to keep the end product bright and appealing; that really helped. The children felt empowered to help be a part of my healing through diet and are learning a lot about what goes into their own bodies as a result.
Our chickens love the pulp, so the kids are delighted to give the vitamins to them, too.
We still hadn’t used the word “cancer” yet because we didn’t know whether they had any prior knowledge of the word, and we certainly didn’t want to confuse the issue when we were still trying to build their understanding of what we were facing. But now it was time.
I had a few biopsies taken, and the nurse put stars over the incisions so that the kids would be proud of me. They were, and they kindly kissed each spot better just as I would have done for them! When the results came through, we got both children into the big bed with us and explained that Mummy’s disease had a starting place now, and a name. The name was “cancer;” had they heard of that before? Our daughter, who’s 7, had heard about it but didn’t know anything about it. Our son looked blank.
We explained that there are hundreds of types of cancer, and everyone’s story is different. If they saw or heard anything about cancer, they could ask us, but they shouldn’t think it was anything to do with my story just because it shared the same name. We felt this was particularly important because children could easily say, “My Grandma died of cancer” or “Cancer makes your hair fall out,” and we wanted information to come from us, not the playground. This conversation was something we had anguished over, but they heard it and then said “OK. Can we read some books now?”
Throughout these weeks, they have had very few questions. But they also have had very little anxiety. I think striking the balance between pace and pitch is so important. Small chunks of information spread several days apart helped them process and feel part of the learning curve along with us. We are empowered in the face of this diagnosis and are riding the tsunami rather than swept away by it. They are along for the ride, too.
Last week, I had radiotherapy. Beforehand, we talked about cough syrup. Who likes cough syrup? No one, right? It makes you feel horrid and sticky, and your mouth is all weird. Yuck! But then after a while, your cough’s gone, and you can go back to sleep and get well. So my medicine was going to be a bit like that. It would make me feel worse for a while and then better. Except that my “worse” would last a few days, even a week or so. But then my “better” would last longer, too. I wouldn’t have to take so many pills for the pain, and I’d be able to do more yoga and dancing with them again. Everyone’s a winner!
Now it’s September, and I’m not going back to teaching yet. The children are delighted that I’ll be walking them to school in the mornings, and I’ve let my friends at the school gates know that these times are CFC (cancer-free-conversation) times. Even when they’re just trying to show they care, it’s not the time. Walking to school is when my kids deserve my attention.
My cancer is omniscient but not a source of fear or anxiety for any of us. We will embrace this challenge like any other: as a loving, honest family unit. Talking often and openly.
Emily Evison is taking a year off from life as usual to create an anti-cancer lifestyle after her unexpected diagnosis. She lives in rural England with her husband, two children, six chickens and cat. They garden, craft, make music, play games and love life.
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By Guest Blogger on October 10, 2011
As a mother of four, one of my biggest pleasures in life is feeding my kids nutritious meals. Unfortunately, it’s not always as easy as I hope it will be! I tend to romanticize while making my evening meals, thinking to myself, “My family will all love dinner tonight! They will wipe their mouths, clear their dishes and give me a hug to say thanks for your efforts, Mom!
And then I’m reeled back into reality when I hear, “No way I am eating that! It’s green!”
So for all you masterful mommies out there trying to feed your children nutritious meals, here are some helpful hints to get these nutrient-packed foods into your weewellness-warriors:
Smoothies. This is one of the easiest ways to get some greens into your kids’ diets. A handful of spinach is hardly detectable, and the flavor can easily be masked by fruit (use darker fruit like mixed berries to mask the color, too). A children’s cup with a lid is also an easy solution for those stubborn eyes! Try starting with a 3-to-1 ratio (3 fruits to 1 green) Be creative; who said you can’t put a little zucchini in a smoothie?
Start small. Younger children might be a little pickier, and you may need to do a little “sneaking” for these ones. Chopped kale can be thrown into just about any dinner meal without so much as a second glance from the youngsters. An entire bunch can be finely chopped and put into soups, fajitas, pot pies, pizzas or pasta dishes like lasagna and spaghetti. The key is to chop it small enough so that it cannot be easily picked out. If you’re not already, get familiar with kale. Even a little of this dark leafy green packs a powerful punch for our kiddos.
Set the stage. “Children have never been great at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” If you want your kids to eat their greens, then you need to do the same. We can’t fall into the old adage, “Do what I say, not what I do”. Want to make an impression? Walk around the house munching on a whole cucumber – if they don’t notice, their friends definitely will!
Solicit support. Get your kids involved. Children’s minds are like sponges that are anxiously waiting to be filled. Teach them why we want to eat broccoli, spinach, celery and lettuce. Excite them by teaching them about the powerful pac-man qualities of veggies. Let them choose the vegetable in their lunch or dinner. Have them help with a garden or the grocery shopping. It’s often easier to do things ourselves, but our children will benefit from being involved (especially when they sense approval from Mom). And of course, don’t forget to invite Dad to jump on board. Healthy kids are a team effort,
Stock for success. Let’s be honest. If you want your kids to eat their greens, then you need to actually stock your kitchen with them! Find the ones that you know your kids will eat, and make sure to have them on hand as well as a few others for them to keep on trying. Their little tastebuds will eventually “hatch”, and someday they’ll thank you for it. You mommies are busy women, so take some time each week to clean and chop veggies that can be kept in the crisping drawer in the fridge. When snack time comes around, your kids can reach for the fridge instead of the pantry. (Keep some tissue on hand for that day when you shed a little tear for your success!)
Following these 5 simple hints you can jumpstart your family’s health today! Your meal times will have less resistance, you will feel like ya done good. And … you never know … green might become your children’s favorite color!
Charity Lighten is a wife, mother, business owner, Food for Life Instructor, and a lover of food! She has a passion for nutrition and the power of food – especially as it pertains to disease prevention. She has a love for life and finds great joy in inspiring others to recommit to great health!
Photo credit: Maigh
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By Guest Blogger on May 30, 2011
By Lisa Catherine Harper
It’s one of the pressing questions of family life: Does having children make you happier?
Recently, I’ve seen studies that evaluate the relationship between a mother’s happiness and any number of factors: the number of children, the children’s age, their gender, their birth order. (Apparently parents of two girls are the happiest; parents of four girls are the least happy.) There’s even a study that measures a couple’s happiness relative to where they are in the parenting cycle (infants/adolescents/empty-nesters), and another that suggests that if you’re over forty, you’re happier as a couple if you have children.
The fact is that motherhood made my life, like all parents’ lives, much harder in lots of measurable ways. I got less sleep, had more laundry and housework, had more anxiety about finances/the future/the environment/toxins/school, and — let’s be honest — a lot more day-to-day stress and disagreements with my spouse. But over the years, I’ve come to understand that these things are the least important and — surprisingly — the most manageable aspects of being a parent. I’ve learned hard doesn’t necessarily mean unhappy.
Because the fact is that I’m much happier as a mother — although not for the reasons you’d expect. I’m not happier as a mother because of the great love I have for my children; nor because I think my children have completed me (they didn’t); nor because of the great joy they are capable of revealing to me. All these things are true, of course, but more important is what becoming a mother taught me about myself.
It began one evening early in my pregnancy when my husband and I were sitting around after dinner. He suddenly turned off the TV and said, “I’m excited about what will happen, but I don’t want to be too excited to enjoy everything that’s happening right now.” For a minute I stared blankly at him, then I realized he was right. Expecting meant not expecting. Pregnancy revealed a fundamental truth: nothing was completely in my control. From my morphing maternal body to the child who would take over my life, I knew that if I was going to enjoy my pregnancy, my marriage, my baby — the whole of my rapidly changing life — I had to live in the present. I had to shut off my monkey mind (a hard thing for a writer and academic) and appreciate the moment-by-moment unfolding of life.
Since then, the births of my daughter and then my son have tested that initial revelation. Nine years of motherhood have taught me that I can’t not think about the future — even as I have been forced to live in the present. What I’ve learned is how to expect and not to expect. Motherhood has shown me how to engage the most productive tensions of life. It has taught me balance, particularly in the following ways.
1. Live in the present, look toward the future. Instead of longing for the past or anticipating (for better or worse) the future, I have learned to embrace the rich flux of the present where I live most fully. This is not to say I ignore the future (education, safety, finances) — but I try not let the big picture derail the everyday, nor do I wait for the future to deliver me into some ideal happiness. I look for solace now, not later.
2. Pay attention, don’t worry. I’ve learned I can do much more good for my children by carefully observing them and their day-to-day needs. I find that if I am attendant to them in the present, I have less anxiety about their future and my own. It may be counterintuitive, but I worry less when I pay attention more.
3. Have a routine, cultivate surprise. Children and families thrive on stability, and I work hard to provide a sense of comfort and safety, to give our family a structure in which we can work, play and thrive. But there is also great joy in upending routine, and there are times when I bend, when we welcome serendipity, break rules, and find joy in what is absolutely new and different.
4. Time passes. I know that some of the things I love most about my young children will pass. But what is hardest will pass, too. The great 19th Century essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote that the only thing that grief taught him was how shallow it is. I remind myself of this often, especially when things get difficult. When I understand that nothing stays exactly the same, I appreciate more fully the blessings of life.
These are lessons that certainly would have served me well before I had children, but the fact is that I needed my children to teach me these things. Now, I am simply grateful that the hard work of motherhood has inadvertently taught me how to find deeper happiness – not in my children, but with them.
Lisa Catherine Harper is the author of A Double Life, Discovering Motherhood, winner of the 2010 River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Prize. She is adjunct professor in the MFA program at the University of San Francisco, and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her family.
Photo credit: abarefoot
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