Monday, October 29, 2012

A Bill of Rights for Grieving Animal Lovers


It is Hereby Declared that Grieving Animal Lovers have the Right:

To feel the pain of grief when the bonds with our pets are broken. The bonds we have with our companion animals are deep and strong; the pain we feel when those bonds are broken is real and worthy of our grief.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Caregiving and Hospice, October 21 - October 27, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Understanding and Managing Grief, October 21 - October 27, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Coping with Pet Loss, October 21 - October 27, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:
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Monday, October 22, 2012

The Widowed Pen Pal Program

The following comes to us from Michele Neff Hernandez, founder of Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation, and I'm delighted to share it here:

The SSLF Widowed Pen Pal program, formerly known as Widow Match, can connect you with a peer with whom you can share the ups and downs of the widowhood journey. You may choose to connect by email, phone, or whatever feels comfortable.

Peer support can be an invaluable resource for widowed people of all ages. You might talk about things other people don't understand, air feelings that are overwhelming, or just discuss what happened during your day. Most of all, you will know that you are not alone. Note: Peer support does not take the place of professional counseling, is not a forum for spiritual guidance, or financial or legal advice. These friendships should not be a burden on either party.

The SSLF Widowed Pen Pal program is the only program like this anywhere, with a track record of outstanding friendships since 2009. The SSLF Widowed Pen Pal program is just one of Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation’s innovative and lifesaving programs for widows and widowers.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Caregiving and Hospice, October 14 - October 20, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Understanding and Managing Grief, October 14 - October 20, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Coping with Pet Loss, October 14 - October 20, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:
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Monday, October 15, 2012

Seeing a Specialist in Grief Counseling: Does It Matter?

Find the latest version of this post here:

A reader writes: I’ve been suffering from depression for a long time and am under the care of a psychiatrist. I went to see my doctor for the first time since my father died and was a complete wreck since I had to re-tell what happened. I was crying because it's hard to talk about Dad's sudden downfall and last day, but my psychiatrist seemed to think that I was being overly emotional. I tried to tell him that I'm not upset every day and that I didn't think that my sadness less than five months after Dad's death was abnormal. I did confess to doing some stupid things immediately after he passed and how hard some things have been, but I walked out of his office feeling like I should be over it. 

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Caregiving and Hospice, October 7 - October 13, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Understanding and Managing Grief, October 7 - October 13, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Coping with Pet Loss, October 7 - October 13, 2012

Best selection from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

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Monday, October 8, 2012

Grief Support: When Others Fail to Meet Our Expectations


[Reviewed and updated April 7, 2024]

At the moment, take heart from those around you who want to care for you and be present for you in your distress. They don't always know how, they don't always do it right, but they try. Sorrow is a matter of taking turns. This year, it's yours. Next year, it might be you setting the table for someone else who feels that they cannot cope. ~ Deidre Felton, in Bereavement Magazine, November/December 2000.

In an earlier post I shared the observation that, no matter how good their intentions, people may find it difficult to know what to say or do when we are struggling with the loss of a beloved family pet. But what happens when we’re anticipating or coping with the death of a person dearly loved?

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Caregiving and Hospice, September 30 - October 6, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Understanding and Managing Grief, September 30 - October 6, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:

Coping with Pet Loss, September 30 - October 6, 2012

Best selections from Grief Healing's Twitter stream this week:
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Monday, October 1, 2012

Silent Grief: Pregnancy and Infant Loss

Find the latest version of this post here:
Silent Grief: Pregnancy, Stillbirth and Infant Loss

A reader writes: It’s been two weeks since my baby died. I was 6 1/2 months pregnant. She had been extremely active ever since I first started feeling her move, but at around 22 or 23 weeks there were days when she wouldn't move at all. At 26 weeks, when I hadn't felt any movement for two days straight, my doctor ordered a full ultrasound, which showed no movement at all, although there was a heartbeat.

During the emergency c-section that followed, my baby was stillborn. After the C-section, I was in the hospital for three and a half days, during which I got to spend as much time with my daughter as I wanted. At first I thought this was a crazy idea but those precious moments I got with her in those days are all I will ever get to hold on to. Plus, we got the opportunity to get some pictures which we may never look at or maybe we'll cling to them -- who knows? The hospital was great, they helped us get foot prints and even called someone in to make molds of my baby girl’s feet. They also made us a birth certificate, since technically we don’t get one since she never took a breath.

I didn't cry until the night I got home from the hospital. It hit me in a wave. In the days since then I've been trying to stay as busy as I possibly can, which isn't very much seeing as I'm supposed to be resting for the next few weeks. But if I stop for two seconds I have a panic attack. I miss my baby. Yesterday there was a memorial -- but yesterday was supposed to be the day I got my 3D ultrasound pictures. I'm not supposed to be grieving the loss of a daughter I never got to know. I'm not supposed to be worrying about no one remembering her but me. Or people belittling my loss because I never got to be "attached" to my child. No one can "remember" her -- except for my baby's father and me. And really all he can remember was the dead baby we got to spend time with at the hospital, and that’s not the daughter I think of. 

It’s weird and hard to explain to anyone else except to say that when you have someone growing inside you, you feel like you already know her. I knew what time of day she kicked the most, I knew that she liked to be on the left side of my tummy and I knew that if I put headphones on my tummy and put a certain track of a classical CD I have on she'd start to kick like crazy. So even though I didn't know the color of her eyes or the sound of her laugh, I knew a different baby than the one they gave to me. It’s still hard for me to admit that that was my baby. In the hospital I held her as much as I could bear to -- but I never told her I loved her, and I never kissed her, and now I wish I did. I felt like I was holding a doll. I felt like I was going to wake up and it would be some horrible nightmare. 

I’m sure wherever my baby is she knows how much I love her, but I wish I could go back in time and express that more when I had her with me. I loved my child from the second I found out I was pregnant. All I ever wanted was for her to be healthy and for some unknown reason this had to happen. I am so angry and sad and I don’t know how to move foreword. I don’t see myself being able to move forward. I know people say it takes time, but I want my baby back. I'll always want my baby back. I just don’t know where to go from here. I feel so alone in my grieving for this baby, like no one else can truly understand because she was inside me and I was the only one who knew her in any way when she was alive.

Now I can’t help but wonder “what if?” about absolutely everything that I did during my pregnancy.  These questions keep circling around in my head and I feel a bit insane at times. I'm worried that whenever I get pregnant again I'll be afraid to leave my bed. I hate to look at my body because my boobs are starting to shrink as the milk dries up, and my stomach is slowly deflating -- I can see my toes again but I'm not supposed to be able to right now. I think the worst part of the physical part is the fact that I am going to have a permanent scar to remind me I lost my daughter. Emotionally though all I can think is that as soon as it’s physically possible I want to be pregnant again. I would never dream of having a child to "replace" this baby because that simply isn't possible and I know that, I really do. But I was very, very ready to be a mom.  Being a mom has always been number one on my list of things to do. That idea is what I cling to when I feel like everything is falling apart.