Episodios
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Losing a child affects us in ways that we never possibly could have imagined. We are quite honestly not the same people who we were before experiencing this profound loss. When today's guest, Lisa, lost her 19-year-old amazing, talented daughter, Kate, to a rare, aggressive cancer a few months ago, she truly felt lost. She said that she lost confidence in herself. She felt like she couldn't do anything even to the point that she started feeling like a bad cook and a bad driver.
The guilt and all of the 'what ifs' became consuming for Lisa. She found herself focusing on many past decisions. What if they had taken her daughter's ovary the first time when she had a simple benign cyst? What if they had gone to a different doctor? What if they had done surgeries at different times? Would her daughter still be alive today?
These 'what if' questions haunt so many of us, don't they? They plagued me throughout my grief just as they affect Lisa today. How do we learn to let go of those doubts and questions? There are no easy answers. Others tell us again and again that we did the best we could do and that there is nothing we could have done differently, but learning to accept and believe in ourselves is much more difficult.
I learned from Gwen many years ago that feelings don't have to be rational to be real. And these feelings, as irrational as they may be, are important to acknowledge. Only by experiencing all of our emotions can we truly begin to heal. We need to slowly and gently go through our irrational feelings and challenge them ourselves. Therapists and support groups can help us along our journey as well.
Through hard work and perseverance grieving parents can and do heal. I have seen it in myself and so many others through these past six years. I can tell a funny story about Andy now without overflowing tears. The grief is still there, certainly, but it is no longer all-consuming and I experience more moments of peace. I know, too, that someday when Lisa thinks about Kate, the first thing that will come to her mind will be her amazing smile and personality and not the doubts that flood her mind today.
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When Justin Cole started on his peewee football team many years ago, each practice started and ended with a chant. Part of that chant included these words - Never Give Up. As the years went by, the boys eventually stopped playing peewee football, but the friendships continued and the 'never give up' mantra remained important. When Cole suddenly died at 22 years of age in a car accident, many of his former teammates who were planning to be groomsmen at Cole's wedding in 55 days instead became his pallbearers.
In the first days after Cole's death, his mother Wendy wondered how she would even be able to live a week without her beloved Cole. Her world was forever broken, never to be the same again, but somehow, she did live a week, and then a month. Hope seemed impossible and giving up did not seem like an unreasonable option. Time kept going on, however, whether she wanted it to or not. Finding no grief support locally in her area of Fort Worth, Texas, she turned to social media. She and her husband signed up to take a David Kessler course on grief. That course gave her the first glimmers of hope that she had seen in 2 months.
Through social media, Wendy realized that they were not alone. She found other grieving moms on Facebook in many different groups with many different stories. (Four of them actually had sons named Justin Cole!) She arranged in-person meetings between a few who lived locally and then decided to start her own Facebook group to try to help other bereaved parents. Wendy knew that hope was the key to healing after the devastation of child loss. Parents need to find hope, and Wendy wanted her group to offer that hope to parents everywhere. She named her group 'Never Give Up Hope' in honor of that peewee football team. In just a few short months, the group has grown to 56 moms across North America. They host Zoom meetings on Tuesday nights for members as well with education and discussions on grief. Wendy hopes that in her own little way, she can help encourage parents everywhere to never give up hope.
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Before our children are even born, we have dreams for them. We think of what they will be like as babies and the personalities they will develop as they grow. These dreams only get more real after they are born. Clara's dad, Joe, says that as he sang to Clara as a baby, he imagined what it would be like to dance with her as a little girl and even watch her get ready for her prom. It is truly one of the joys of parenthood - imagining a blissful, happy future.
When today's guests, Jenna and Joe, went to Jenna's 28-week ultrasound, however, they got their first 'kick in the gut' that the blissful future they were imagining might not be possible. Baby Clara was suffering from SVT (supra ventricular tachycardia), and Jenna needed to be hospitalized immediately. They tried numerous medications, but little Clara entered into the world as a premature infant. Clara had numerous complications in her first 5 1/2 months of life, but eventually, they were able to bring her home, although still with a central line for her IV nutrition.
Despite all of these hurdles, Jenna describes this time at home as 'amazing.' They started to dream again, hoping that Clara would be able to lead a relatively full life. That all changed 5 1/2 months later (10 1/2 weeks before this interview was recorded when after a relatively routine medical procedure, Clara suddenly died on Mother's Day - Jenna's first Mother's Day. Jenna had looked forward to this day for weeks, telling all her friends how happy she was that she wouldn't be in the hospital as had been the case the year before when she was still pregnant with Clara, but the day had turned into a nightmare.
Their vibrant, happy amazing little girl was suddenly gone, and with her, all of the new little family's dreams went with her. Now, Jenna and Joe are slowly trying to put together the pieces of their life once again. They are moving to be closer to family and trying to find grief support in any way they can. Now their biggest dream for their little smiling Clara is to make sure that they are not the only ones who remember her and let others know that Clara is still a part of their lives.
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I cannot quite believe I have been doing the Always Andy's Mom podcast for 5 years. As of today, there have been well over 250,000 downloads in 128 countries as we share stories from around the world. This week, we went back to talk to guests who have been with us from the beginning and others who joined us along the way.
Accompanying Gwen and I for this episode are Stephanie (Ep. 3: Keyan's Mom), Chrisy (Ep. 19: Caleb's Mom), Nan (Ep. 23: Connor's Mom), and Demetra (Ep. 92: Eleni's Mom). If you have not heard these moms before or want to remind yourself of their stories, click on the links, but even if you are new to the podcast and have never listened before, you will find so much hope and healing by listening.
Each of these amazing moms talks about how they struggled when they were first recorded. In Chrisy's case, she was only 148 days into her grief journey so it is understandable that she would be in the depths of her pain. On the other hand, Nan lost her Connor 11 years before recording her episode. At the time, I found myself longing to have her strength. Little did I know, however, that inwardly, Nan was struggling and only one month later, found herself hitting rock bottom at the lowest point in her grief.
As I listened to each woman share years after I first met them, I saw so much growth. I found myself smiling as Stephanie found purpose again by dedicating her life to helping bereaved people through Starlight Ministries. As I smiled, however, tears also came as they so often do. Grief is hard. Grief is messy. Growth can come as months and years go by, but it is not a linear path. It is a path filled with many dark valleys and helping each other through the dark times is key.
As I think back over these past 5 years, I feel so incredibly blessed that God has allowed me to meet hundreds of bereaved people from varied backgrounds from all over the world. I have become a part of their grief journey and they have become a part of mine. I cannot wait to see who will enter my life over the next 5 years. Thank you all.
*To sign up for the next Starlight virtual support groups that I lead starting September 10th, email [email protected]. Visit starlightmin.org for more information
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If you listened to last week's podcast, you heard a little bit about what goes on behind the scenes. For example, each week, one to two days before release, I listen to that week's full podcast and try to find an overriding theme I want to focus on for the write-up. This week was no different. but as I listened, I found myself hearing different themes.
The first idea was to focus on Remi’s amazing personality and how she impacted those around her - even those who knew her only in the hospital. The second theme revolved around the idea that Remi's mom, Courtney, felt like Remi's death affected her confidence in her ability to parent and her outlook on life in general. As I found myself debating the pros and cons of each of these ideas, it hit me - these ideas come from the same place. They all stem from how different experiences cause us to change and evolve as people.
When the ICU team cared for Remi in the hospital for 37 days after her drowning, they grew to love Remi and were forever changed. They never got to hear her speak or see her run and play, but they were impacted nonetheless, As Courtney held her young daughter as she died, she turned to the doctor who sat rubbing her back and told the doctor that she didn't have to be there with them. The doctor responded, 'I'm exactly where I need to be.'
The experience of losing Remi affected Courtney deeply as well. In many ways, these changes are negative, but there are a few positive ones as well. Before Remi died, Courtney felt confident in her decisions as a parent. She knew that she was a good mom who cared for her children well. Losing Remi changed all of this. Doubts came constantly. Is she a good mom? Can she keep her children safe? Those on the outside still see the great, amazing mom Courtney has always been, but inwardly, she feels that she is lacking. As much as these doubts haunt Courtney, however, she does value life in a way she could not before. Courtney says, ‘We are not promised tomorrow so we should love hard today.'
So to all of you today, the message to you is this - love hard and offer care and support to all who are hurting.
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This week is one that I have been dreading for a while now. Every year, as the calendar turns to August, I feel my dread and anxiety go up and with that an increase in headaches and other physical symptoms as August 15th comes closer. Last year was especially bad as it was the 5 year anniversary of Andy's death. I thought this year would be better until I learned that we would have to drop our youngest son Peter off at college on August 13th.
I know that most mothers have feelings of worry and sadness when their youngest child moves out of the house. For me, the feelings of worry exploded to a whole new level. I fear that as I drop him off at college, some tragic accident will occur and I will never see him again. I know that this is irrational and that most college students do not die when they go to college, but over the years, I have met many mothers whose children have died and that makes it more real.
In two weeks, the podcast celebrates its 5th birthday. Five years of telling amazing stories of amazing children, but they are also hard stories. They are emotional stories of tragic accidents and prolonged illnesses. Tears often flow as we relive those final minutes or days of our child's life or the moment we heard that the unimaginable has happened. As hard as these stories are, however, they are also stories of hope and resilience. They are stories of parents who continue to get up every day after horrific tragedy. They are stories that bind us together as a community of grieving parents.
As I look back on these past 5 years, I am proud of the stories we have helped tell and proud of the community we have created. As difficult as this week is for me and as real as my fears are, I know that so many of you are just a text or an email away. Six years ago, I felt very alone in my grief. I had my family and close friends, but when I looked into the world, I saw only happy, whole families. Today, as I wake up on August 15th, I feel quite different. Although I know far more stories of tragedy, I feel the strength and support of broken parents from around the globe. I know that with your help, I will get through.
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"I don't know how you do it."
I have heard this phrase on and off in my life, but that was nothing compared to how often I have heard those words since Andy died. I know people mean well when they say, "I don't know how you do it," but I never really know how to respond. I don't feel any stronger or more resilient than anyone else. Quite the opposite is the case actually. I often feel weak and alone.
Today's guest, Jessica, heard "I don't know how you do it" for many years as well. It started shortly after her 5-year-old daughter, Dalia, was diagnosed with MERRF syndrome, a degenerative mitochondrial disease. Over the years as other parents watched their children gain milestones, Jessica and her family watched Dalia lose hers - first, her ability to walk and speak and then the ability to eat on her own. Eventually, Dalia even lost her sweet smile.
At the time of Dalia's death, her bedroom looked more like an ICU room than the bedroom of a teenage girl, but until Dalia died, Jessica didn't notice any of that. She just focused on being a loving mom to her sweet daughter. 'I don't know how you do it?' Really? It was just normal life for her. There was nothing heroic or extraordinary happening. Jessica just did what she had to do, living every day with her family hoping to give them all the best life possible.
Jessica at some point decided to write a book about her experiences raising and losing Dalia while also suffering through the deaths of both of her parents and sisters. The result of this effort was 'Breath Taking: A Memoir of Family, Dreams, and Broken Genes' available here on Amazon. She also began to think about the phrase 'I don't know how you do it' more deeply. How does anyone 'do it' actually? Jessica decided to start her podcast which she aptly named, 'I Don't Know How You Do It' to explore the question more deeply. Each week, she interviews someone whose life seems unimaginable from the outside. Through the podcast, Jessica hopes to show listeners that there isn't a magic answer. We can all do it, no matter what our circumstances. Each day, we all get out of bed and do it and so can you.
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Communication is such an important part of the human experience. We all come from different backgrounds and with different experiences, but being able to communicate with each other and share our own perspectives brings us closer together. When Chezik's 3-year-old son, Yori, drowned in a backyard pool, she was unexpectedly thrust into a completely new world and forced to learn a new language. This was the language of grief.
Over the next year, Chezik was drawn to other grieving families, especially those who had lost children to drowning. She felt very strongly that she needed to do something to try to decrease the number of drowning victims which is the #1 cause of death in young children. Since Chezik had a background in film production, she knew that the best way for her to get the message out would be through film.
What resulted is a simply beautiful documentary called 'Drowning in Silence' (available to watch on Amazon Prime or free on Tubi). In the film, Chezik shares Yori's story as well as the stories of other children who were drowning victims. Through these stories of amazing young children, she calls for action for all of us to do our part in decreasing the number of drowning victims. These actions include having an adult as a designated 'water watcher' (much like a designated driver), encouraging all young children to wear life jackets within 100 feet of water, and even working to provide swimming lessons for young children free of charge. In addition to making this powerful film, Chezik also started a nonprofit organization (nomoreunder.org) to help with education and provide free swim lessons to children, especially those of black and brown communities who are at higher risk of drowning.
Chezik's call to action profoundly affected me. Watching her film not only changed the way I think about drowning on a personal level, it changed me as a pediatrician as well. No matter how much information I feel like I need to give parents during a well-child visit, I will never again neglect to remind parents of the risks of drowning and provide information to help protect children as much as possible.
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I have thought a lot recently about blame in the context of grief. When a child dies, it is natural for feelings of blame to emerge. Whether we blame ourselves, blame our child, blame another person, or even put the blame on God, there is a lot of it to go around. Additionally, others can be very vocal about where they feel the blame should be placed when our child dies. This is often done through social media when people do not think at all about the feelings of others before throwing out hurtful comments. Initially, after our accident, It felt important to place the blame somewhere. In some ways, the blame was actually useful to me. I could put on boxing gloves and hit a punching bag imagining I was damaging the car that hit us. It was a release for my anger and other scary emotions. In other ways, however, blame was my enemy from the beginning. I blamed myself for all of us being in the car at that moment. I imagined scenario after scenario where I had done one thing differently that would have saved Andy. Eventually, however, I came to realize that no matter whether I blamed another person or myself, blame had become a poison. While drinking that poison every day, I was not able to begin healing. For me, the cure to the poison of blame was forgiveness. Forgiveness allowed true healing to begin and helped me feel more like myself. I was able to let go of the bitterness and anger that accompanied the blame. I have heard from others and remember thinking to myself that if I reached a point of forgiveness, that would mean that I was somehow OK with Andy dying. Let me be perfectly clear. I am NOT OK with Andy's death. I will miss Andy every day for the rest of my life. When I think about his life getting cut short I feel tremendous sadness and even some anger, but I no longer let the need for blame consume my life. That is the difference between who I was five years ago and who I am today. I hope that in their own time and way, every bereaved parent will be able to let go of the poison of blame.
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From the first email I received concerning Gwyneth and her son, Laird, I was struck with how important friendship was in Gwyneth's life. You see, Gwyneth was not the one who first wrote to me about her story. It was her dear friend, Caroline. Caroline wrote that Laird had been her son's best friend and that she had promised to do whatever she could to help her in her grief journey and her quest to 'sound the alarms about the fentanyl epidemic.'
From the first moments of my conversation with Gwyneth, the theme of friendship overwhelmed every part of our discussion. As she introduced me to Laird, I was struck by what a good friend he was to all around him. Classmate after classmate approached Gwyneth after Laird's death telling her that he/she was Laird's best friend. She heard multiple stories of Laird sticking up for classmates if others were picking on them. He was truly an amazing young man.
After Laird died from fentanyl poisoning, Gwyneth focused on friendships to help her get through. Friends didn't just ask her if she needed anything, they brought her groceries and made her meals. They stayed at her side through all of the dark times. Shortly after Laird's death, Gwyneth and her family began participating in KinderMourn, an organization based out of Charlotte, North Carolina, offering support groups for bereaved children and their parents. This group has truly been a lifeline for Gwyneth. I could hear her voice sound a little stronger when talking about what she has learned in her support group. The friendship those other bereaved parents give her has been incredibly precious to her. I don't think she knows how she would have made it through the last year without them.
Even after all of this, Gwyneth had one last 'friend' to talk about. This 'friend' is grief itself. We often think that grief is something to fight against, but Gwyneth reminds us that we should really treat grief as a friend. Grief will be a part of life until the day we die. It will be our companion through times of sorrow as well as times of joy. We need to hold it close as we would a dear friend.
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From the first email I received concerning Gwyneth and her son, Laird, I was struck with how important friendship was in Gwyneth's life. You see, Gwyneth was not the one who first wrote to me about her story. It was her dear friend, Caroline. Caroline wrote that Laird had been her son's best friend and that she had promised to do whatever she could to help her in her grief journey and her quest to 'sound the alarms about the fentanyl epidemic.'
From the first moments of my conversation with Gwyneth, the theme of friendship overwhelmed every part of our discussion. As she introduced me to Laird, I was struck by what a good friend he was to all around him. Classmate after classmate approached Gwyneth after Laird's death telling her that he/she was Laird's best friend. She heard multiple stories of Laird sticking up for classmates if others were picking on them. He was truly an amazing young man.
After Laird died from fentanyl poisoning, Gwyneth focused on friendships to help her get through. Friends didn't just ask her if she needed anything, they brought her groceries and made her meals. They stayed at her side through all of the dark times. Shortly after Laird's death, Gwyneth and her family began participating in KinderMourn, an organization based out of Charlotte, North Carolina, offering support groups for bereaved children and their parents. This group has truly been a lifeline for Gwyneth. I could hear her voice sound a little stronger when talking about what she has learned in her support group. The friendship those other bereaved parents give her has been incredibly precious to her. I don't think she knows how she would have made it through the last year without them.
Even after all of this, Gwyneth had one last 'friend' to talk about. This 'friend' is grief itself. We often think that grief is something to fight against, but Gwyneth reminds us that we should really treat grief as a friend. Grief will be a part of life until the day we die. It will be our companion through times of sorrow as well as times of joy. We need to hold it close as we would a dear friend.
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As Candi sat in the ER after losing her 5-year-old son, Asher, tragically in a farming accident, she wondered how life could go on. The pain was just too great. Candi had seen a therapist for years and knew that her therapist was also a bereaved mom. Candi asked her sister to ask the therapist what she was supposed to do. She answered, "You circle your wagons, and just hang on." Honestly, in the 6 years since losing Andy, this may be the best piece of advice I have ever heard. I love the visual that it brings to mind. For listeners who may not be familiar with the saying, 'circling the wagons' was done as wagon trains headed west. Each night, when the travelers stopped for the night, they formed a large circle made up of their wagons. They would keep the camp and their livestock inside this circle. This way they could keep the most vulnerable inside, protected from bandits, wild animals, and even stormy weather. Candi's family and friends were great at circling the wagons. Candi says she felt like a ghost for the first whole year, but somehow, her family remained fed and her other 5 kids continued to participate in school and activities. The circle cared for her when she could not. Over the past 3 years, Candi's wagon train has changed. As she became involved in my online support group through Starlight Ministries and met other bereaved moms, they joined her wagon train to be her support. Candi says that she was a sponge, reading book after book on child loss. Recently, she started a bereaved moms group in her own rural community in Utah as well. I would say that instead of being the protected one at the center of the circle of wagons, Candi is working to transform herself into a wagon master. Recently, Candi's extended family suffered tragedy again when her sister lost her own daughter in a car accident. Candi felt helpless knowing there was nothing she could say to make her sister feel better, but Candi knew exactly what to do. She instructed that wagon train to circle up again, and she now sits with her sister in the dark, scary place holding her while they both just hang on.
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"Thank you, Momma."
These were the last words that Holly's daughter, Brittany, spoke before slipping into unconsciousness and eventually passing away. Holly clings to these words, even now, almost three years after Brittany's death. For 20 years, Holly had been at Brittany's side through her long, complex medical journey, never even spending 24 hours away from her.
However, Holly questioned herself despite her diligence as Brittany's primary caregiver. First, she questioned the decisions that she made when treating Brittany. Did she make her do too much? Could she have eased her pain and suffering? In Brittany's last days, Holly's questions changed. Did she allow Brittany to 'give up' too early? Is there more that she should have done?
Throughout Brittany's life, she faced many battles. First of all, Brittany was a brilliant young woman with autism. Her mind functioned at a level that blew her mother and others away. In addition to her autism, however, Brittany struggled with a yet unnamed disease that battled her organs throughout her life. After a life-saving surgery in her teens, Brittany began to write a book about her journey meant to help other children suffering from life-threatening illnesses.
After completing the book, Holly and Brittany decided to table the book until her 21st birthday. At that time, Brittany planned to write more of her story and complete the book. Unfortunately, it became clear in the end that Brittany would not be able to finish the book. She asked her mother to complete it for her. Holly honored Brittany by finalizing the book she titled, 'Well, Actually .... Thank you, Momma' (available on Amazon or their website, wellactuallythankyoumomma.com).
Despite Holly's doubts, Brittany's own words tell the final story. Holly did everything she could to give Brittany the best life she could. That's what we all hope for, isn't it? We work to do everything that we can for our children. And even though most of our children don't say 'thank you, momma' in their last moments with us, we hope and pray that they are thinking these words as we part.
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After Maxine's son, 19-year-old Chandler, died when his truck caught on fire 7 months ago, she knew that there was no way that she could get through even one day without God's help. Maxine says that she 'fell to her knees and thanked God for every second that she got to be Chandler's Mom.' After walking beside her sister after losing her 14-year-old son nine years before, Maxine had an idea of how painful this journey of child loss was going to be. She also knew that after all the prayers for her sister and encouraging her sister's faith, she needed to do the same for herself.
Witnessing her sister's grief certainly helped Maxine gain insight as to what life was going to be like moving forward. In some ways, I'm sure that was scary for Maxine. She remembered witnessing her sister's pain. She knew that now, even 9 years later, her sister remains forever changed. Having that insight, however, was a motivator for Maxine to start working on her grief right away. She prayed for God to show her resources to help. She prayed before finding my podcast. Maxine emailed me soon after starting to listen and recently joined one of my virtual support groups.
Maxine's grief journey is the perfect example of how broken people do the best job of helping other broken people. As much as she loves and appreciates all of her friends and the help that they offer, Maxine says that in addition to her sister's help, her best help comes from listening to stories on the podcast and talking to other bereaved moms in our faith-based support group. Although a few months ago, we were all strangers, Maxine feels like she could not love them any more than if they were friends she had known for years.
Bereaved parents understand each other in ways that others can't and that understanding brings comfort. When Maxine says that although the pain sometimes feels unbearable, being Chandler's mom is worth every tear, every struggle, and all of the pain, we all nod through our tears. We all love our kids so much and would not give up a second of their lives to decrease our pain. Together, we can keep living each day.
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Today's guest, Pat, says that when her son Alex (all his friends called him Clarke) was young, her family would have been considered a 'good' family. She and her husband were college professors with great jobs and an amazing son who was both intelligent and athletic. They enjoyed backyard barbecues with friends and neighbors. They had no idea that a major change was just around the corner. After Alex turned 12, he began to suffer from anxiety and a severe eating disorder. His ready smile seemed to disappear and their lives were now instead filled with therapists and doctors, doing both outpatient and inpatient treatments to try to battle his mental illness. After much therapy, it seemed that the eating disorder symptoms were better and that the worst might be behind them. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning for Alex and his family. Alex journaled so many parts of his journey and mental health struggles. Life felt like it was spinning out of control, and initially, he felt better when controlling his eating. As he got older, however, he began to turn first to alcohol and then to drugs to gain a sense of control. Pat says Alex's life 'veered between happiness, anxiety, success, and despair.' Alex entered rehab again and again but ultimately lost his life to a drug overdose. Pat was crushed as all bereaved mothers are and wondered what more they might have done. With her background as a sociology professor, she began to look at Alex's life differently. Pat began to research social and institutional factors that may have contributed to Alex's death. She looked closely at Alex's life by interviewing friends, therapists, police officers, and others who knew Alex. She compiled all this into a book, Surviving Alex: A Mother's Story of Love, Loss, and Addiction. In her book, she 'calls for a community of action that would improve care for substance users and reduce addiction, realigning public health policy to address the overdose crisis.' She hopes that through Alex's story, she can show the world a more compassionate, caring way to help those suffering from mental health and substance use issues.
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When listener, Carolyn, sent us a list of topics that she thought would be great for our Livestream chats, several stood out to us as great ideas. The first one we decided to tackle concerned the Work of Grief and even more specifically having an annual grief plan in place. To be honest, the idea of a grief plan both intrigued me and gave me anxiety. I feared that if I found myself unable to follow the plan, I would feel like I had failed and I worried that I would feel worse instead of better.
After Carolyn listened Monday night, she wrote back to me giving me even more to think about. Carolyn wrote, 'My Annual Grief Plan is a dynamic document. I set goals and adjust them along the way. It changes every year. I don't feel like a failure because grief is unpredictable. I helps me to continue to move forward with love for Jimmy.' She went on to write that she had worked on her grief plan recently. Her plan has four categories: Grief, Spiritual, Health and Friends. One of her goals for this year was to start a memorial garden (see picture on website). Other goals included changes in her diet and acknowledging changes in friendships.
Listening to the podcast again and reading that email got me to think about my own grief plans. I wonder if writing them down in this way would help me achieve more in my grief so I am deciding to give it a try.
1. Grief - Co-host my first grief retreat. Explore what future retreats might look like.
2. Spiritual - Increase my trust in God by being more intentional with prayer.
3. Health - Improve diet and exercise daily.
4. Friends - Go out socially with friends at least once per month.Well, there it is for the world to see. My current annual plan. Its not complicated, but hopefully having specific goals will help my focus. A few months from now, I will be able to look back and see where I am, knowing that my plan too, is a dynamic document. As I revisit the plan in 2025, it will almost certainly change, but not because I have failed in some way. It will change because my grief will change and as my grief changes, I will as well. Thank you, Carolyn, for your inspiration.
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When grieving mom, Olga, is feeling down and defeated, she will watch a video that her late son, TJ, asked to make while she was working on a project herself. In the video, TJ says, 'We are dedicated and motivated. We do not give up. Even if we are sad, we do not give up. Never.' At the time, TJ was a happy, healthy young 5-year-old boy. He was a joy and a light to all around him. Olga had no idea that he would tragically die just a year later when he drowned at summer camp. As TJ's family mourned TJ, they were struck by the fact that his death was so preventable. TJ's parents did not want another family to suffer this tragedy so they started a foundation just 4 months after TJ's death. TJ's Story has two primary goals. The first goal is to work with legislators in the state of Missouri to enact legislation to improve safety at summer camps. Many camps had policies that recommended a certain number of lifeguards to be present for children to swim. In fact, the camp that TJ attended had such a policy, but when a lifeguard called in sick that day, they went ahead with swimming anyway. TJ's parents hope that if this policy was instead a state law, camps would be more likely to cancel swimming instead of breaking the law. The second goal of TJ's story is to help provide free swim lessons to young children. They currently have an amazing partnership with Goldfish Swim School to help provide lessons. They have amazing fundraisers where they have been able to raise thousands of dollars. Certainly, over these weeks and months following TJ's death, Olga has had periods when she feels like giving up, but TJ's words always come back to her. 'Even if we are sad, we do not give up. Never.' His bright smile and friendly manner will never be forgotten. Olga says that TJ came in like a firecracker and went out like a rainbow, but it seems to me that through TJ's Story, the light of the rainbow is going to keep on shining. Although Olga and her family only had six short years of memories with TJ, their hard work will make it so countless other children will live to be able to create far more memories of their own.
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When I am suddenly stuck in traffic on a busy freeway, feelings of panic quickly build inside me. My heart starts beating faster. My hands begin to feel sweaty. It can feel difficult to breathe. As I tightly grip the steering wheel, visions of another car accident come into my mind. I say to myself over and over, 'I can't do this. I can't do this.' Today's guest, Jamie, may have a solution to the struggles I and many other traumatized people have. The beautiful thing is that it is something that you can learn to do to help yourself. Jamie first learned about EFT (Emotional Freedom Techniques) tapping when her college-aged son, Ben, was struggling with anxiety and schizophrenia. She was tapping on parts of her body and saying the following phrase - I love and accept myself just as I am. She soon found herself weeping. Jamie realized that as much as she thought it was a good idea to love and accept herself, she did not actually truly feel that way at her core. After Ben died by suicide, Jamie was understandably crushed. She said her mind was filled with 'what if's' and 'I wish I had's.' (What if we had gone to another doctor? I should have done more to help.) Jamie soon realized she needed to let go of those thoughts. The solution came through EFT tapping. As she was tapping, she would say positive statements to herself. I am OK. I love and accept myself just as I am. This time, however, she believed it. She could love and accept herself and let go of the negative thoughts. Instead of having the devastation of Ben's death consume her, Jamie decided that Ben's death would be fuel for her to move forward. Despite Ben's death, she was determined to bring just a little bit of beauty into the world. In her mind, the best way she could do this was to become an EFT tapping practitioner. Through her website, tapforhappiness.com, she helps teach people to use tapping in their own trauma and grief. As for me, I hope that someday soon, when driving in traffic, I will be able to replace my words of 'I can't do this' with 'I am OK.' Hopefully, I will even believe the words when I say them.
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Today's guest, Jason, has always felt a bit unique as a dad. Early in their marriage, Jason and his wife decided that when they had children, he would be the stay-at-home parent. I was actually surprised to learn that 1 in 5 stay-at-home parents are now stay-at-home dads. What makes Jason's story more unique, however, is that both of his children had special needs. When someone is the primary caregiver of a special needs child, it often becomes a huge part of their identity so when their child dies, a part of them feels like it dies as well. When Jason's son, Zachary, unexpectedly died of sepsis, Jason suddenly felt alone. Like many of the moms of special needs children whom I have interviewed over the past year, Jason felt very isolated. Jason turned to social media to find others who were suffering the same pain and grief. He longed to find other dads to talk with, but couldn't seem to find any. He became involved in many Facebook groups and found that he would be one of the only men who would regularly contribute. On the advice of a therapist, Jason began to write out his feelings. They were raw and unfiltered letters to his son, Zachery. He imagined that someday he would simply throw them out, but instead decided to ask to post them on a bereaved parent's Facebook page. The feedback he received was so overwhelming that he eventually decided to make his own social media accounts. He entitled his Facebook page 'Letters to Zachary.' Jason's 'Letters to Zachary' Facebook page now has almost 1000 followers. He says that his purpose is two-fold. First, he wants to show other bereaved dads that it is not only ok but good to open up and share the feelings that they have related to grief and loss. The second purpose is to give women some insight into the mind of a bereaved dad. He hopes that his sharing may help women understand the grieving men in their lives just a little bit better. Hopefully, the discussions that Jason starts can help couples better understand each other as they grieve together.
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When today's guest, Heather, lost her precious 4-year-old son, Jake, 13 years ago, her life was turned upside-down. Jake (or Jakey as he was often called) was medically fragile and suffered from chronic seizures, as well as additional medical complications, but Heather never allowed herself to think that he would die. Heather left her job as a special ed teacher and dedicated her life to making Jake's life the best it could be. Shortly after Jake died, Heather and her family realized that not everyone had the resources and skills to help their own medically complex kids. They started a non-profit organization called Jake's Help from Heaven. The nonprofit works with families to provide items not covered by insurance that will give them opportunities to thrive. Some items are big and life-changing and others are quite small, but their goal is to come from a 'place of yes' to help every family possible. As rewarding as the organization has been, Heather found that much of her time had to be dedicated to planning fundraising events instead of spending time with the families. This made Heather begin to think about trying to do things differently. What if instead of sponsoring numerous events throughout the year, they simply asked their donors for money and used their time and energy to tell stories instead? These stories have become 'The Place of Yes' podcast. Some of these stories are about Jake and their family and others are about the families Jake's Help from Heaven had assisted. Still others are about people living in grief each day. All of these stories, however, are about people using their grief for good. When Heather thought about having to move forward after the devastating loss of Jake, she discovered this about herself. She says on her podcast, "All I can say is, you can dig deep, figure out where you are, and figure out where you want to be, and for me, I found the answer was in a place of yes." She longs to make the world a better place for chronically ill children and now for grieving families as well. Through the nonprofit, and now the podcast, I know that she will do just that.
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