Myth Conceptions of Parental Grief

by David Hurley

Over the past several years I have heard several people make ridiculous and shocking statements regarding parental grief. Most of the time they think they can help, and usually they are well meaning folks. They are comfortable in their ignorance of the realities associated with the loss of a child. Many of the statements have been heard from more than one source so they are common “knowledge.” Those inexperienced in this loss have accepted this conventional “wisdom.” They want to share it with everyone because it somehow seems logical.

I call these beliefs “mythconceptions.” They are myths in the truest sense. Passed along from many sources they become part of the fabric of grief to the uninitiated. They are almost misconceptions since people seem to internalize them before they pass them on.

I will share some mythconceptions here with a few tasteful (hopefully) comments:

“I didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid I would remind you of (fill in the name).” That’s really considerate of you. I almost forgot. Ten more minutes··· Yeah!!! Right!!! What ever makes anyone think we could ever forget? They have no idea how long it is before a day begins without the thought of a missing child. The thought is there quickly, but it NEVER goes away.

“I know just how you feel. My dog died last year.” Whatever you do, DO NOT SAY THE FIRST THING THAT COMES INTO YOUR MIND. Take a deep breath and explain that you too had dogs and cats (maybe even some fish and birds). Have buried several, and that it does not even come close in the level of pain or the lasting feeling of emptiness that accompanies the death of a child.

“Isn’t it time you just moved on?” Move on to where? We have moved. You should have seen us the first moment/hour/day/week/month/year. We are dealing with the grief, but it will never be gone completely. No one completely gets over the death of any loved one. The biggest problem a bereaved parent faces is that this is so backwards. We are supposed to bury our parents. We may bury siblings and many friends. Our children are supposed to bury us. Our brain was never prepared for this possibility.

“God only gives you what you can bear.” Maybe He has me confused with someone much stronger. In fact, if He gave this to me, I have a serious problem with Him. Help through this is welcome, the need for the help is not.

“At least you have other children so it won’t hurt as bad.” To this I want to respond: “Which of your children are you ready to sacrifice?” People who actually say this have missed the latest dose of oxygen needed for brain function. While we love each of our children differently, we love each of them unconditionally. They do not share our heart in pieces, each one fills our heart completely.

“At least they were older so you had enough time with them.” Enough time? How much is ‘enough’ time? As my children age I realize that I am in a different stage of being a parent, but a parent none the less. I will never have enough time with my children. They are busy (I guess I know where they learned that) and it is often difficult for us to find time to get together.

“At least he (or she) was just a baby so you did not get the chance to get attached to them.” Once again, this is an obvious lack of oxygen to the brain. We are attached to our children before they are even born. We plan, hope, prepare nurseries, and pick out names, dream of the future together. Early death crushes us beneath the weight of grief.

“At least you are young enough to have more children.” That classic causes as much hurt as any. When someone says that it would be appropriate to say: “You are also young enough, so give us one of yours and YOU have another one!” Even if we are young enough (I am not) we cannot replace the child that died. If they could be replaced so easily they would all be the same. I know from experience that each child in the house is different and fills the heart in a way no other can.

“At least they won’t grow up to be on drugs (or in other trouble.)” Well, that certainly makes me feel better. I am sure I would have been such a terrible parent and they would have faced such terrible outside influences that life would have been unbearable. Guess again. I would give any thing to have the opportunity to face all of those problems with my child. What we are talking about here is HOPE.

“At least they are in a better place.” That helped a lot. We try to provide the best place possible and make reservations for that better place for a much later date. The date for that reservation should be a long time after they bury us.

You may notice the last six mythconceptions begin with “At least.” I think it is safe to say that whenever someone begins a comment with “At least” you can expect that it will hurt more than help. “At least” minimizes the facts and puts you on the defensive if you allow it.

I am certain I have missed a few mythconceptions. If you happen to think of some I should include please email me at David.Hurley@gte.net. Awareness is the best defense against these comments. Education of the folks making these comments should be done with care and understanding because their ignorance is truly bliss. We can truly hope they are never “one of us.”

Why the Stillborn Should Have a Certificate of Birth

Copyright by Dr. Joanne Cacciatore

My story began 14 years ago. On July 27, 1994, I gave birth to my fourth child. It was my baby girl’s due date. About 15 minutes prior to birth, my beloved child, Cheyenne, died. After a full postmortem evaluation, the pathologist could find “no determinable cause” for her death. I was left with countless questions and few answers.

About one week after her death, I received Cheyenne’s death certificate in the mail. What I really wanted, though, was the record of her birth. So I called the vital records office in Arizona to request Cheyenne’s birth certificate. I was told, “You didn’t have a baby. You had a fetus and the fetus died.”

I vowed to change this for grieving mothers of the future. For more than one year, I lobbied the Arizona legislature, gathering bipartisan support for the bill that would become the first law enacted in the United States to offer grieving women a Certificate of Birth Resulting in Stillbirth (CBRS) as an option in addition to the death certificate that was already issued.

The bill passed the Arizona State Senate with unanimous support during the 2001 legislative session. Shortly thereafter, Governor Jane Dee Hull signed the bill as she said, “I think we all know that this is something that should have happened long ago for women.”

In September of 2001, Dr. Catherine Eden of Arizona Department of Health Services presented me with the first CBRS issued in the United States. Since then, we have worked tirelessly to pass the bill in other states. As of June 2008, the bill has passed in 25 other states, and is being considered in seven more.

In the states that don’t have CBRS, the registrar of vital records usually issues some type of death certificate or some legal record of death for all stillbirths. This is the only record the family is able to receive at this time. In addition, families are mandated by state and federal law to pay for the final disposition, funeral or cremation, of the baby’s body after a stillbirth.

What does the CBRS (in Arizona, it’s called the MISSing Angels Bill) do? It requires the state’s vital records office to offer – though not require – a “Certificate of Birth, Resulting in Stillbirth” for each stillbirth. The stillbirth must meet the medical/legal definition of stillbirth (naturally occurring, intrauterine death that occurs after the 20th week of pregnancy all the way up to birth). In addition, the CBRS is available only as an optional document to parents; parents who don’t want the document do not receive it. There is a fee attached to the document to ensure that there is no cost to state governments.

Why is it important to offer CBRS? There are many reasons, but the most important is the psychological benefits to women who endure the death and the birth of their baby. The state’s refusal to validate the birth is an implicit rejection of the woman’s lived experience. The mother of a stillborn baby must still give birth to her dead infant.

One 83-year-old woman who applied for and received her baby’s birth certificate 56 years after her baby’s death, said, “I feel like I can finally die in peace.” This legislation has tremendous value to women.

There has been opposition in some states, including by the National Organization for Women, Planned Parenthood of California, ACLU, NARAL, California Medical Association, and the California American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology. These groups are concerned that this legislative movement threatens reproductive freedom for women. We disagree. We assert that this movement is all about reproductive freedom.

The “vital center” of America clearly exhibits overwhelming support for the CBRS movement, which, boiled down, is simply about human compassion and dignity. It is not only possible, but demonstrable, that CBRS laws can coexist with laws protecting reproductive freedom.

In fact, many pro-choice legislators have supported CBRS bills, as have many national organizations that provide aid to grieving families. These include the MISS Foundation, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Foundation, March of Dimes, Mothering Magazine, National Stillbirth Society, and others.

Sharon Kaplan, Chief Executive Officer of Planned Parenthood of Delaware, said: “If this certificate helps ease their (grieving mother’s) pain, then we support it. It does not seem to me to be an anti-choice agenda.”
We encourage legislators in all states to do what is right for the citizens they represent. Stillborn babies are not inconsequential, nor are their mothers, and they deserve the dignity of existential recognition.

(c) 2008 MISS Foundation. All rights reserved.

Reach Joanne Cacciatore through her website www.missfoundation.org.

Poet Memorializes Her Parents

In the Mirror

She is as close as that hand,
thumb and middle finger squeezing
tweezers, jaw raised high, a stretch
for loose skin on the neck, smile
hitched higher at the right corner
of red lips, crooked nod shifting a lock
of brown hair, right brow arched like the lip—
graying more than the left—fingertip to the middle
of the chin then to the ears, one after the other,
then pulling down the eye, retreating into its black center.

The mirror has no microphone. I don’t hear
her voice. I see her sound sluicing through me:
no don’t touch that don’t go there be safe be good
She is closer than she seems. But I know I sprinkled
her ashes under the lilacs myself,
wet them before I was finished.
A closing act.

The mirror doesn’t lie.
She is closer than she seems.
Here, in the bathroom,
using my hands,
talking in my voice.

– Copyright 2008 by Pamela Papka Sexton

Two Rivers

On the wing, an eagle twists,
scouts a rigid prairie dog.
By inches the sun widens, descends, pulls
clouds along like taffy. Near the river, I sit
watching. An eaglet squawks on its nest,
waiting. Gullies snake the hills

around the canyon’s mouth, their plunge
running snow-melt into the Wind River
where cold water breaks over granite.
Cutthroat quiver in riffles,
then idle into the Bighorn
where the joined waters carried the frozen body
of my father to catch on a willow
near the rookery.
Tied to the thought

of him, I wait for his head
to appear near a one-legged crane sieving
madly, an otter slicking down the bank.
He may be here, swirling around cottonwood roots
in spring, breaking ice edges in winter,
his ears catching moss.
I think I see his eyes, the color of sky,
watching me
through the clear water,
his black hair sweeping back with the current
away from his leathered face.
I hear his song too, the Irish lullaby he sang
at my bedtime and when he danced with Mother,
lilting with the stream then gone.

I look toward Round Top
and know he is there, stitched
in a tuxedo, closed in a bronze casket,
waiting for dust—its slow work.
I long to dig him free, return him
to that moving place,
a place that will not contain him;
where, sitting on the bank, I can still
watch for him.

- Copyright 2008 by Pamela Papka Sexton

Pamela Papka Sexton is a writer, artist and activist. Currently she co-chairs the board of the Kentucky Folk Art Center in Morehead, Ky., and chairs the board of the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning in Lexington, Ky. She is the recipient of the Dantzler award in fiction and the Oswald Award in poetry from the University of Kentucky, the Leadingham prize for poetry from the Frankfort Arts Association and several awards in poetry from the Green River Writers. She is published in numerous places including Limestone, High Performance Magazine, Telling Stories: Fiction by Kentucky Feminists and Crossing Troublesome. She is completing a novel, a short story cycle and a poetry manuscript. Pam is married to Robert F. Sexton and has three children, two step-children and one grandchild.

What do I do with her “stuff”?

Barbara, Asheville, N.C., asks
My mother died recently at age 85. I’m the only surviving child. She left a huge house full of “stuff.” I just can’t bring myself to do what’s needed to clean it out and sell the house. Is this normal? What can I do to get over the hump?

Drs. Gloria and Heidi respond:
First of all, we want to say how sorry we are to hear about your mother’s death.  As you say, you are the “only surviving child,” so we assume that you have also suffered sibling loss.  It is difficult to say goodbye to the home and mother you knew and not to have other siblings with whom you can cry and share special stories.

Some would tell you that since she lived to 85, your mother had a good life and it was time for her to go. We all know we have to see our elder loved ones go but that doesn’t mean that we don’t miss them dearly. Home and Mom were a place where we always knew we were welcome. So not being able to clean out the house is totally normal.

We suggest that you don’t do it alone. Ask a favorite aunt, friend, or friend of your mother’s to help. Tackle things one room at a time. You might want to deal with personal items last. Some people just box up some of the personal items, label the box, and put them in storage to go through at a later date. Also, think about those left behind and offer them some of those special items to remember your mom. For the furniture and larger items, you can have a house sale. If you don’t want to do it yourself, you can hire people to do it and if it is too painful, take a few days of vacation while the items are being sold. , Ask the people you hire to contact an organization like Volunteers of America to pick up want they don’t sell. When you get back, the house will be empty and ready to go on the market.

What Not to Say to a Suicide Survivor

Copyright 2008 by Carol Loehr

“Suicide is so selfish.”
“If he loved you so much, why did he hurt you this way?”
“Pray for your son so he can get out of purgatory.”
“Did he leave a suicide note?”
“He took the easy way out.”
“Did you communicate with your son?”
Suicide survivors constantly feel pain because of what others say. As a survivor of suicide, I have reflected on my grieving since my son Keith died “by suicide.” I decided to take a look at the process I have gone through, and I have tried to analyze my feelings. First, I made a list of all the thoughts, feelings, and emotions I had after Keith died; I hoped this list would somehow help other “new” suicide survivors. After looking at the list, I realized the one thing that was most apparent was my anger – the anger that I felt about the word “suicide” and the phrase “committed suicide.”

Dealing with grief is always a difficult process; dealing with a death by suicide is often even more complex. My son Keith died of untreated depression, an illness caused by an imbalance of certain chemicals in the brain. It was just like any other illness, but my son’s illness carried the stigma of a “mental” illness. Others who have helped me through this process refer to it as “neurological” illness; I, too, prefer this latter terminology because it can help eliminate that image of someone in a straight jacket being taken away to a padded cell.

Since my son’s suicide, I have come to the realization that his illness was so intense and overwhelming that he could not escape the pain. Depression can cause immense suffering! When one suffers from depression, it prevents him or her from being able to look forward to anything. The depressed can only think about NOW and have lost the ability to envision a future devoid of pain. Many times, the depressed do not even realize they are suffering from a treatable illness. In fact, seeking help may not even enter their minds. They cannot think of the people around them, their families, or friends because of their illness; they are too consumed with emotional, and often physical, pain that becomes unbearable. They feel hopeless and helpless. They don’t “want” to die, but it’s the only way they feel their pain will end. For them, there is no choice involved in suicide—it is a reaction to agonizing pain.

When someone asks, “How did your son die?” a silence often follows my answer. It is a silence I have learned to expect. I consider this silence a part of discrimination. The person has decided in his or her mind that this kind of death is not acceptable because it is self inflicted. In their minds, suicide occurs because of weakness or lack of character. They do not understand that a neurological illness is an illness like any other illness.

I was brought up in the Catholic Church, so when I first learned of Keith’s death, my thought processes immediately went to God. I was being punished. I wasn’t a good enough mother. Where would I take my grief? I always felt that the priest in our parish would have the right words, because he represented a man of God. But apparently, the church had not trained our priest about suicide because he said nothing. It was hurtful to us because we felt the church should be there for us with the information we so desperately needed. Wouldn’t God reach out to those who suffered? It was that silence that I will never forget.

We have to do something to educate others about suicide. This could start in the church. I see in our church bulletin support groups for the separated, widowed, and divorced. How about a support group for those who are suffering with a neurological disorder? How about a support group for those who have lost loved ones (either physically or emotionally) because of neurological disorders?

I also think of the phrase “committed suicide.” As a suicide survivor, those words cause me great pain. I have tried to explain that the word “committed” was used during the Middle Ages because suicide was then considered illegal and sinful. However, it is now 2008, and we know more about neurological disorders. We know that neurological disorders can lead to suicide. So why do many people continue to use such outdated terminology? Let’s come out of the Dark Ages.

I am tired of being angry at the word suicide, but you can help. Every time you hear about a death by suicide, you can remember that this death was the result of a neurological disorder. Something went wrong with the functioning of the brain, and as a result, a suicide occurred. Then, talk to God and ask him to help others understand that our loved ones fought losing battles against an illness. I am not worried about how God feels; in my heart I know. Unfortunately, most people misunderstand suicide, so the myths are perpetuated.

I want people to educate themselves and others. Education can lead to better understanding, greater willingness to seek treatments, and compassion for survivors.

Carol Loehr is the author of My Uncle Keith Died (Trafford), which addresses children’s questions about suicide and depression. She can be reached through her website, www.TheGiftofKeith.org,.

Grief and Female Suicide Bombers — the Connection

By Norman Fried

The growing wave of female suicide attacks in Iraq introduces a newer, more insidious threat to our American soldiers overseas. It also highlights the need for greater understanding of the psychology of spousal-loss, sibling-loss and child-loss.

According to the United States military, 43 women have carried out suicide bombings in Iraq since 2003, 20 in this calendar year alone. The most recent of these attacks was carried out by a woman named Wensa Ali Mutlaq, who lost her husband one year ago to fighting in his province’s capital and lost her brother several months later after he detonated a suicide bomb.

Military analysts, journalists, and Iraqi provincial council members have all offered their explanations for the developing trend in female suicides bombings. Some suggest that for many young Iraqi women, sexual abuse by older al-Qaeda leaders, carried out under the veil of marriage, is to blame. Others attribute the trend to insurgent recruiters and religious instructors who offer promises of eternal paradise. In one case, a suicide attack was forcefully conducted through the use of remote control detonation.

Understanding the growing trend of female suicide attacks in Iraq generates new light on the actions of suicide in general; and it asks us to consider the damaging effect that suicide has on its survivors, especially wives and mothers. Studies of spousal grief reveal that bereavement following suicide is qualitatively different from other causes of death. In particular, wives of a suicide are more likely to experience a prolonged search for motives; they may often deny the cause of death; their grief may culminate in feelings of anger more than sadness; and they may become more susceptible to suicide through family credo.

In their book Spousal Bereavement in Late Life, Carr, Nesse and Wortman report additional reactions to suicide, including depressive symptoms, loss of appetite, sleep disturbances, fatigue, and a wish to be reunited with the deceased. Spousal grief engenders not just personal reactions, but practical consequences as well. Research reveals that the expected female-type tasks of cooking, cleaning and laundry are now compounded with more male-type tasks such as household repairs and financial concerns. Thus, in a Muslim culture where women’s roles are clearly split across gender lines, and where suicide is considered an act of heroism, even greater complications to the grief response arise.

Given such findings, it becomes prudent that well-planned and immediate attention are paid to the survivors of a suicide within a community. The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services reports that providing social support for victims of stressful life events reduces the likelihood of depressive symptoms. In addition, tangible forms of support, such as helping widows and mourning mothers to develop social networking skills, and maintaining spiritual connections, can also be beneficial. Postvention programs, staffed by professionals who are trained in crisis intervention, have been utilized effectively in our American schools since 1991.

These programs have been successful in reducing the likelihood of cluster suicides in the school system, and copycat actions across the nation. Their successes indicate that similar proactive outreach to the survivors of suicide in Iraq can be vital to the safety of our soldiers, as well as a necessary humanitarian effort to our fellow man.

Norman J. Fried, Ph.D., is director of psycho-social services for the Division of Pediatric Hematology/Oncology at Winthrop University on Long Island, New York. Dr. Fried is a Disaster Mental Health Specialist for The American Red Cross of Greater New York, and he has a private practice in grief and bereavement counseling on Long Island. He is married with three sons and lives in Roslyn, New York. His website is www.normanfried.com.

What Should I do?

Mary, Provo, Utah writes
My son Danny died a year ago of an infection at age three. I am now wondering what to do with all his toys. It is too painful for me to keep them in a room as a memorial for him, yet I know how much he loved them. What should I do?

Drs. Gloria and Heidi Horsley respond:
We are so very sorry to hear about the death of your little boy. As a bereaved mother and sibling we want you to know that we understand how difficult it is to part with our loved ones possessions. After Scott died, we left his football game under his bed for a very long time because we couldn’t bear to get rid of it. It sounds like you are thinking that you might want to start giving a few things away. We would suggest that you think of children or places that would enjoy the toys. You may want to give some away to Danny’s friends or relatives. Another suggestion is that you give his toys to a hospital, family shelter or a nursery school. I’m sure those children would cherish the toys and would find joy in them, just as Danny did. Don’t feel that you have to give them all away at once. You might also want to keep a couple of Danny’s favorite toys that make you smile in his remembrance.

When Does Touch Become Critical?

by Elaine Williams ©2008

When does it become critical that you be touched with love or affection? Does something happen to those of us out of relationships for extended periods of time due to divorce, loss of a spouse or physical separation?

Speaking for myself, as a widow of four years, some days it feels like I have a yearning to be touched with familiarity, love, affection or tenderness. My mind aches for the intimate brush of fingertips, a soft touch of lips upon mine. Is it selfish to want that again in my life – to have something beyond a quick coupling or an Read more

Dreaming of the Deceased: Call For Research Participants

By Jennifer Shorter

Has someone close to you passed away? Following the person’s death, did you experience a profound dream about the person that you felt stood out from any other dream you have had?

I am a doctoral student at the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology in Palo Alto, Calif. My research interest is in exploring dreams of the departed during the post-death grieving period. For purposes of this study, profound dreams can be defined as (but not limited to) emotionally intense dreams in which a recently deceased loved one returns in the dream state to provide guidance, reassurance, and/or warning.

If you are interested in sharing your experience through a brief interview (90 minutes, in-person), during which I will be asking you about your experience and relationship with your loved one, and about the dream(s) you had during your post-grieving time, please contact me at the numbers listed below.

Your participation may help clinical psychologists better assist individuals during their grieving process. Your participation in this study also may result in the following: increased self-awareness, a deepening of your connection to your loved one, and greater clarity of your profound dream experience.

If interested, or if you have any additional questions, please contact me at 408-368-5459 or e-mail me at visitationdreams@gmail.com. All inquires are confidential and there is no obligation to participate.

Criteria for participation:
· You must be 25 years old or older.
· The loss of your loved one must have occurred at least 3 months ago.
· You have not done any dream work under the supervision of a professional therapist around the specific dream images to be presented in this study.
· Mind-altering substances and/or intoxicants were not used immediately prior to the profound dream.

Transplant Waiting List Nears 100,000

By Reg Green

Very soon, the number of Americans waiting for a transplanted organ will reach 100,000. Every day, 18 of them die.

These people — who need a heart or liver, kidney, lungs or pancreas — live perpetually on the edge, always aware of a winner-take-all race between their wasting disease and a cure over which they have no control. Normally, the cure can come from some other family’s willingness to donate an organ after that family’s loved one has just died.

Twenty years ago, there were only 20,000 on the waiting list. In the most obvious sense, the ever-lengthening lines represent a failure to solve the problem.

But in another sense, the growing list indicates how much transplantation techniques have improved in a few decades, causing a skyrocketing demand that has moved the procedure from science fiction to common therapy.

Close to half a million people in the United States have had an organ transplant. Millions more have had a tissue transplant: skin, bone, corneas, heart valves, tendons. The sobering fact is that any one of us could need a new organ or tissue — and virtually every one of us could be a donor.

Some recipients are people whose lives, though not threatened, are miserably constricted. Recipients may be in chronic pain, blind, suffering from severe burns and bent spines, unable to walk or pick up their children.

Into their world comes transplantation like a lifeline. It is not simply the best cure. For most of them, it is the only cure.

But it is not a cure-all in every case. As with any surgery, complications are possible; the powerful medications that recipients have to take so the body will not reject the new organ can have serious side effects. Even so, success rates have generally advanced year by year, and dramatically over the longer term. Results vary widely by organ but, for example, about 90 percent of heart patients are alive after one year, 75 percent after five years, and 55 percent after ten.

Given that all these people were terminally ill, that many were close to death at the time of their operation, and that over the years, some proportion of them would have died from causes unrelated to their organ disease, the value of transplantation is readily apparent.

Saying yes to donation produces on average three or four organs, saving three or four families from devastation. In many cases, one person donating tissue can help up to 50 other people. Most of us in our whole lives will never again have as great an opportunity to change the world for the better.

To learn more about organ donation, and how you can help, visit the website set up in honor of our 7-year-old son, Nicholas, whose donated organs have meant life for so many others. The web address is http://www.nicholasgreen.org/.

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