Grief is a pretty universal experience, which is nice. By which I mean it’s always nice not to suffer alone. In our suffering, I do not feel alone. I have Mike who’s suffering is parallel to mine. Our parents are grieving, our families are grieving, our friends who are parents are grieving, our friends who had the opportunity to witness us as parents are grieving, our friends who never had the chance to meet Han are grieving, Han’s doctors are grieving, and so it feels like the world is often grieving with us. Han was so loved that the hole he left in this world is enormous. Sometimes we have to tell people that are son died and sometimes, people who don’t know us and don’t know Han grieve a little bit too.
The universality of grief also means that human minds have been trying to figure out since time immemorial. Great philosophers, gods on earth, kind hearts, vicious narcissists, artists and everyone else have faced grief and sought balms for the pain. Ideas and then words to make sense of something that feels so senseless.
We are fortunate, most of our community does not attempt to dispense advice and limits their platitudes to soft sorries. No one has really attempted to propose a specific solution to our suffering. We don’t get flack for our grief. No one has tried to tell me I shouldn’t be sad or that I need to move on. I have felt certain ways about things that people say, but I think much of that is more in my head.
Specifically, I feel a hollow want to be engaged in the conversation and advocacy work for the tragic losses of the Palestinian and Israeli people. I believe that sitting out of this historic moment, this unfolding genocide, may be a moral failing. But I also cannot look at pictures of dead babies. I can’t read about the mass graves for the children starving. And if I can’t read about it, I certainly can’t talk about it. My grief feels so small in the face of this tragedy, my very real loss makes it impossible to face this loss. I have so many friends who are eloquent, engaged, and enraged. I see their work and wish I could do more. I respond to the emails from my Senator's offices, but I know that those small words slip through the cracks.
When I started writing today, I certainly didn’t intend to contend with one of the most complex and painful conflicts happening in our world. My intent was to contend with some pearls of wisdom that I have heard or read. To analyze their intent and their impact. Share my perspective on some of the mundane whats that are circulated after a loss.
Things They Say
Don’t make any big life changes for one year after a major loss.
FALSE.
There may be some truth to this, but I also think that massive loss may require massive change. I am comforted by huge life changes - I have made many of them and they have always yielded growth in the ways that I needed. Selling the ranch, moving to Houston, and making other changes in our life have been absolutely necessary. I’ve spent a lot of time in online child loss communities and many people find that leaving their family home was of benefit to them. The family home can be a source of sadness and triggers. For us, it was also very isolating which is not what we need right now.If you’ve lost a baby, give yourself a year before you start trying again.
FALSE.
Our grief counselor told us that creating arbitrary timelines isn’t helpful. A year is not some magical amount of time. Some couples are able to start trying to conceive sooner and others take much, much longer. And depending on the type of trauma your loss was you might never make it back to the place where you can be the parent that you want to be. There is not a universal timeline for the healing required to conceive.Take things one day at a time.
TRUE.
Ugh so annoying but so true. Early on it was minute by minute, then hour by hour, and now day by day. We’re getting better and stronger, but I think we’re still taking things day by day. We’re able to peak a little farther into the future but some days we are still struggling to just make it to the end of the day when we can tuck in for the night.It was God’s Will. / He’s in a better place. / He’s with Jesus now.
FALSE.
And even if it's true, wow. Not helpful to a mother or father who just lost their child. There is no place I want my baby to be except by my side. I know that he is loved and cared for by the people who want it most here with me. Religious platitudes may offer comfort to some, especially those who may have suffered in their final days, but for a new fresh life who was still floored by the wonders of this world there is no better place than with his parents.You are so strong and/or brave.
TRUE/FALSE.
Yes, we are strong. Yes, we are brave. But no, surviving Han’s death doesn’t really feel like a place in which we are strong or brave. We had and have no real choice. We are doing really well and some of the things we do are brave, but living this life isn’t what makes us those things. Honestly, I feel more stubborn than anything.
Things I say:
Simplify your Life.
We live with a lot of stuff we don’t need. There is a lot of extra and a lot of distraction and a lot to just take care of. Our time in DC with less space, less belongings, and less commitments really gave us some necessary space to focus on ourselves and our healing. If you can, reduce the amount of stuff in your life. Say yes to things that you either really need or really think will serve you.(Fiercely) Protect your boundaries.
People will mean well and you can show them some grace, but it is up to you to set boundaries to protect yourself. This is always true. There are things I just can’t and won’t do any more. I won’t tolerate people that have shown that they can’t respect my wishes. I am careful in how I use my energy. And I err on the side of caution if I think something may be a trigger, I don’t feel the need to roll the dice and get upset if it’s not necessary.Rest.
This one is hard! But my mind, heart, soul, and body are all pushed to their limits daily. Just being is hard which means prioritizing rest is necessary. That means sleep - I go to bed at a decent hour and I regularly take melatonin to help me sleep. It took months, but I don’t set an alarm unless I need to and I let myself get as much rest as I need. I’m not a great napper, but I do lay down and take time to myself to recharge. Give yourself a chance to rest.Take the time you need.
Rest adjacent, boundary adjacent, but there is an important distinction to be made. Your life will, or at least should, move on no one's timeline but your own. You will mend your wounds your way and that will take the time it takes. If you want to accelerate that healing, that’s something that you should decide to do. If you are grieving in community or in partnership, it’s also important to acknowledge that your grief and healing doesn’t move in unison. I don’t love word healing, but I think it’s relevant here. You will change after your grief. Some of those changes will hurt forever, but I hope that you also have a chance to make changes that bring you joy and peace.Add good, meaningful, new things to your life.
The goodest, most meaningful thing to ever be in my life is gone. Han died and that very wonderful thing might still have some remnants, I hold great memories of a fulfilling and all encompassing love, but those often serve to highlight how much I lost.
I have tried to add things to my life that I didn't have before: traveling, yoga teacher training, and searching for a new home. I am embracing a new way of being me that still feels true to myself, but reaches for the edges of comfort and pushes me a little bit past them. Sometimes it’s big things, sometimes it’s small things. I am trying new foods and allowing more simple joys into my days.
I don’t have the code cracked on grief and loss. But I’ve learned some things that have served me and most of those things just came with time. Grief has been a hard path to walk, even if so many have walked it before me. People pass on words that may not be heard when they are said. People may share lessons that are uncomfortable at first or that don’t make sense. Early on, my friend Lauren shared the idea that life grows around grief.
It was an idea that didn’t make sense when she shared it, but it has really resonated as we navigate through life without the Hanimal. There are some pearls of wisdom that others have shared with us and I hope that we continue to learn from those that I have navigated loss.
Life continues without Han in ways that make us scared. Last week we took Lincoln in for a checkup and got the news that the small bumps he has are cancerous, not just pug acne like we had hoped. Yesterday he had surgery to remove the bumps and have them tested to see how serious his case is - odds are in his favor, but I don’t have a lot of faith in the odds these days. We will hear back on the severity of his case within the next two weeks.
We’re rethinking some of our summer plans and wishing good things for our pug son. We’ve already canceled our trip to Vegas and part of our Hawaii trip to be home and care for Lincoln. Our world is shifting and maybe it will shift us closer to spending time with you!
👏🏼🩷 #1 I had an overwhelming, all-consuming need to sell our house and move after Dawn died. It’s still one of the best decisions I ever made. #2 I was pregnant again 6 months after she died, and while this is a deeply, deeply personal choice every Mama has to make herself, it worked out exactly the way it was supposed to for me.
Grief takes on such a unique form for each individual - no one can tell us how to do it right. Keep fighting the good fight 💓