 |
He woke up early and started his day. I struggled most mornings to get out of bed.
He picked up the phone to answer with a happy ‘hello’. I walked right by and let it ring.
He tackled work as if his life depended on it. I let the clean laundry pile up on the couch and didn’t care if it made it upstairs into drawers or not.
He worked multiple projects around the house. I simply tried to breathe from moment to moment.
He easily smiled and charmed people with a funny quip. I forced myself to show up and usually couldn’t wait to get home.
He brushed off thoughtless comments regarding our dead daughter and rationalized that no harm was meant. I let each word pierce my heart and bled to death as I struggled to pick my jaw up off the floor.
He was super dad. I often forgot what day it was or when I last took a shower.
He told people we were fine. I told people the truth they never wanted to hear.
His grieved in silence. I screamed until I lost my voice.
We both loved and lost. We lost our daughter. We lost hope. We even lost one another for a time.
We suffered, we fought, we hurt.
He preferred seclusion for his grief, showing the outside world a mask. He felt an ingrained drive to be active, solve problems and have routine. I felt the exact opposite. I felt betrayed and alone because he was not screaming aloud with me.
In the darkest moments, we were like poised vipers striking at one another, spewing hurt like venom. Words that should never be uttered seemed to easily find their way out of our mouths to pierce each others hearts.
Our differences became a barrier to communication and we decided to try counseling. It was not easy, but these visits helped us set ground rules for our discussions, helped us voice our differences to a neutral third-party, and it served to help us re-commit to one another and our marriage.
The reality for most couples is that grief magnifies your differences forcing you to cope in the ways that are most natural to you. These differences, under normal circumstance, compliment and balance one another, but when a child dies you struggle to find connection and understanding with the one person who has lost as much as you have ~ your spouse.
In the end, we found one another again and our marriage is stronger because we have fought so hard through this nightmare of grief.
The cruelest part of grief is how isolating it can feel. If you have experienced even a small amount of what I have in your relationship, I encourage you to remember the ‘love’ that brought you together and commit to fight for one another again.
|
About Stephanie
These woods spoke to my heart. My hubby and I have lost two boys, a yr and a half apart. Both times, grief and the opposite ways we dealt with it almost ended our marriage. We literally became strangers and enemies. At the time the only thing that held me in the marriage was our daughter. I wasn’t willing to give her up for the shared custody. Now, I am very glad I stuck it out. I’ve known my hubby since I was two, and we really are best friends. It took many many heart to heart talks, explaining to each other how we felt about the other, and ultimately what we wanted to be the outcome to get back to the way we used to be with each other. And we are stronger because of it. Thank you for this post – it reminded me of how lucky I am to have such a great man standing beside me!
This was totally my husband and me the first several months after losing our twins on August. 5, 2011. I was finally diagnosed (6 months post-loss) with PPD and have been in weekly counseling since. Besides attending monthly support group meetings with me, my hubby has carried on the same way he has since the beginning, and it’s really catching up to Jim in a big way, such that he’s now contemplating counseling for himself. We’re also awaiting a referral to a local grief counselor who sees couples, because the closer we get to the one year mark, the more pain we’re in. It’s amazing what going through this together can do to – and for – a marriage, although I understand why babyloss so frequently leads to divorce; this shit is HARD.
Oh Amy, I am glad that you found the courage to advocate for what you need and that by your example, your hubby is doing the same.
Wanna hear something ironic? I was a trained therapist and went to school for 6 years, earned 2 degrees, and spent another 2 years under trained supervision before getting licensed ~ and it took me a very LONG time to find the courage to admit that we needed help. Just taking that step for me was a giant one, because I knew that all I was feeling was normal, but I still reeled that my husbands grief was so foreign to my own and visa-versa. So, I really mean it when I say ‘I think your brave.’ So many people can’t get beyond the hurt and differences to work on anything else.
Your so right, grief is hard. Good luck to you and your spouse. I hope that your family is in the other statistical camp of people who make it.
Marriage after your child dies is SO hard. We did some counseling, too, and it was very helpful to us both in reconciling the differences in how we grieved (I resented his okay-ness, he wanted me to be done grieving — not because he thought my grief was invalid, but because he wanted me to be okay and healed, when I wasn’t). So he had to accept that my grief would be loud and ugly and apparent for perhaps years, and I had to accept that he grieved differently and that I couldn’t expect him to grieve like me. So hard. But we are fighting for our marriage, and it is worth it… Great post, Stephanie. <3
Beth, I still am amazed at how similarly many of our stories are. As women and wives, we grieve out loud while our partners (usually) are very different from us. Choosing to fight for a marriage is exhausting when your grieving. I remember barely caring enough for the children, let alone caring about my husband. But we did.
I am happy to hear that you are fighting too. Fight the good fight girl!
It is so true, and a lot of what you said rings true for me too. Except when my husband looked me in the eye and told me he couldn’t be with me anymore because I reminded him for her, our daughter. I called him a coward, made him leave our home. He worked out of town so we took a few weeks to really think about the relationship. I left it up to him. He called and asked to come back home. Nearly 17yrs later, a rainbow and another loss under our belt, we are better then we have ever been. It takes time and a lot of patience but also a desire to remember what you loved about each other in the first place to make work. And to love the new people you have become after your loss.
Stephanie,
You are so right. . . trying to love the new people you become after a loss is such a giant step!
I read this with tears in my eyes because I feel like I am reading “my life” at the current moment. Thank you for reminding me that I am not alone.
Jess,
Oh, your comment broke my heart because I know exactly what your feeling like. But that is what is so amazing about being here at SS, just seeing that there are others that have walked this journey and understand the pain and depth of despair involved. You are not alone.
Thank you for this. I echo what the other ladies said. We are going through a similar place. I feel if i cleared away my babies’ ‘shrines’ (for want of a better word) he wouldn’t notice. He is getting better but some days I feel so angry to be bearing the majority of the grief. and he pushes it down into his unconscious.
I’m a psychiatrist and I do think that the depth of empathy we need for our work means we can’t push our pain away.