Tag Archives: Children

“Well maybe we can start on the beginner wall.”

“Mom, I’m not like 4 ya know! Just get me on the tallest wall!”

Oh boy. So, he climbed. He climbed and climbed until he rang the loud old, bell. As I glared up, he smiled ear to ear. No fear. No care in the world. Climbing down, he’s shouting, “See Mom! Parents don’t know everything right?!”

I sometimes wish I had his courage. I wish I could revert back to childhood, where I only cared about hopping on my red Big Wheel, racing down the sidewalk with my pig-tails in the breeze. A simple life, like T, who wants a playdate all hours of the day, even if it’s 9:00 p.m. on a school night. His strength, a child’s strength, is just surreal to me. I want to fall to pieces sometimes because of the heavy grief, yet looking at him, I wonder, “How does he do it?” I believe it is because children simply live “in the now” and enjoy every bit of it. As adults, however, we know more of fear, worry and consequences.

I worry what will happen as he ages; will he remember B more, or less? I worry about making the family feel “complete,” as it once felt. Now, the holidays are approaching. Not an easy time for anyone in the grieving process. Heck, getting out of bed can be a tedious task at times, let alone sitting with large groups of people at holiday dinners. However, one learns to put worries aside. Faith teaches us B will be waiting to see us once again. Until that time, we will try to be more like T: Live loud in every moment and be courageous.

Where do you find courage?

A peer blog sparked the never-ending question of, “How long is long enough to grieve?” We chuckle when we hear it because we ask ourselves, “Are we on a step system or something? Should we cover our faces with a mask, like a child, and hide from the world?” It brought me back to the days of struggling with returning to work following the death of B. I specifically recall trying to get additional time home, in order to help my eldest child adjust to his first days back at school. I used some days owed to me from work.  However, I was then told that any additional time off would have to be prepared through paperwork, specifically the Family Medical and Leave Act. Well, of course, I was shocked to find, from FMLA, that I couldn’t take time off for the death of my child. Really? Really.

So, what does one do? I was told to see a doctor. The doctor then had to “label” me in order to agree with the FMLA terms. Thus, I put my family first, rather than pride. I marched into the doctor’s office and said, “My child died. I don’t know why. Now, work says you need to see me in order for me to stay home. Oh yeah, and you need to sign this paperwork.” I was embarrassed; I didn’t want any more people to know B’s death than necessary at the time. So here I am, telling the doctor that delivered B, that he died. I didn’t have answers. She said in order to get approved for FMLA, I had to claim I was “clinically depressed.” Really? Really. She said, “Here is some medication. Are you extremely depressed?” I took a step back. Was I? No. Did this label bother me? Yes.

It angered me. It embarrassed me. Why? I was not depressed. I was SAD. My child died; I was SAD. Plain and simple. I replied to the doctor, “Wouldn’t you feel sad? Is this something new in the world of medicine? I simply want time to be with my eldest son. I want time to be alone with “me.” What makes me “clinically” depressed?” She didn’t respond. Later that day, I faxed in my paperwork that read, “Cannot function with daily work habits. Must receive further treatment. Suffering from clinical depression…lost her child.” Done.

Granted, I understand some people are clinically depressed. People do need medication and/ or therapy.  Many of us have been there. Others do well without anything and God bless. Everyone is different. What bothers me most is that my child died, and the government felt it was not important enough to let me stay home. That I needed a “label” because of what had happened. Yet, if we give birth or adopt, we can stay home. Why not when we bury a child?

There are petitions now in place in which people are trying to make such changes to the FMLA. Thank goodness. I do not think we are sick. We do not need a label for losing a child. No one can tell anyone how long is long enough. What you should, or shouldn’t feel. What you need, or don’t need. Each story is different; each loss is a loss that is unique to the individual. What the government and some others around us may lack is compassion and empathy. Please do not tell us how to feel, act, speak, or move. Let us simply be and give us respect.