Measuring Grief

After my post last week I was fortunate to get some feedback and thoughts from a few friends that inspired me to write this post. Since losing my baby girl many questions have plagued my thoughts. One of these questions was why the loss had to be so late in my pregnancy. If she had to die, wouldn't it have been easier to lose her earlier in my pregnancy when I was "less attached." It didn't take me long to realize that no matter when the loss had occurred it would have been heartbreaking and devastating. I remember when I found out that I was pregnant and how excited I was that I simply couldn't contain it. I had to tell a friend immediately. I was already attached. I would have felt heartache if the pregnancy had ended the very next day. I think about the heartache of those that I know that are heartbroken over and over again each time the take a home pregnancy test and get a negative result. I think about those that have experienced miscarriages, maybe multiple times. All of these things are sad, and the simple fact is, while all of these experiences are different, they all hurt. There is not a grief-meter which we can use to measure the heartache of another person.

For some reason comparing grief still happens. We hear about somebody's miscarriage in their first trimester and we think (or maybe even say) well at least she hadn't felt the baby move, or, it's better that it happened now before she became too attached. We may hear about a person having a stillborn baby later in pregnancy and think (or maybe even say) that's so sad, but at least she has living children, or at least they can try again. For some reason we may occasionally, and unintentionally discount somebody else's grief because it isn't the saddest story we have ever heard. All experiences of loss are different and unique. In the several dozen stories of infant loss that I have read since I lost my baby, I have never heard a story exactly like mine. A very dear friend that was there for me in any way she possibly could be after my loss, shared her story of loss with me. Even she discounted her own experience some, saying that it wasn't as hard as mine. After hearing her story I ached knowing that she had experienced something so hard. I told her that there is no comparing our two stories. They are both simply very sad. Both of us had our hearts broken. Both of us still grieve for the baby that isn't here with us. Another friend shared her heartache over multiple miscarriages and after talking with her, I learned that even some of those closest to her barely acknowledged the loss that she had experienced. 

The problem with measuring grief is that it is not quantifiable. You can't put it on a scale, place is next to a ruler, or pour it into a graduated cylinder (Oh, by the way, I'm a science geek if you didn't already know). Every person experiences grief differently! Maybe you have experienced loss and within a few weeks you felt peace and were able to face the daily struggles of life, or maybe a year later getting out of bed each morning is still a challenge. Those could be the stories of two people that experienced very similar losses. We can't compare one person's loss to another or one person's grief to another person's because we can't measure it!

Maybe this doesn't resonate with you. Maybe you are sitting there thinking, "yeah, I know what happened to so and so was sad, but really when this other person lost her twins at -choose some number between 30 and 39 weeks- I'm sure it was harder" I'm sure in some small way that may be true. We all face our own challenges every single day. Sometimes we have to go through really sad things and other times our challenges are the everyday frustrations of just getting by. If we stop comparing, we can be far more helpful to those around us that are hurting.

There is only one individual that has experienced the exact hurt and heartache that each of us have and knows exactly how to come to our aid. He is our Savior, Jesus Christ. He knows our pain and our heartache and he doesn't ever comfort us with "I'm so sorry, but at least it wasn't as bad as it could be." No, His words--"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28) do not measure how heavy laden we are. He simply offers his rest. If you have experienced grief you know it is hard work and you are definitely heavy laden and in need of His rest and comfort. He would not tell us that our heartache is not real, or not enough to be acknowledged.

The Savior recognizes our suffering and knows how to give us comfort. He asks us to mourn with those who mourn. Not to mourn with those that mourn things that are sadder than our own trials, or those of a friend, cousin, brother (you get the idea), just mourn with those that mourn. 

So how do we acknowledge the grief of a friend that is suffering and not compare one person's grief to another person's? What exactly does mourning with those that mourn entail? Often (I can say often because it's happened to me plenty and to others that I know) it seems people feel the need to say something "helpful" along with expressing their sympathies. It is well meaning and they are really trying, but somebody experience the darkness of loss may not be ready for those "helpful" things just yet. What they do seem to be ready for are statements like:

I'm so sorry for your loss
I'm so sorry you are going through this, it must be so hard
I'm so sorry, is there anything I can do?
I'm sorry, can I give you a hug (or don't ask, just do it)
I'm so sorry, I'll bring dinner (or clean your toilets, vacuum your floors, babysit your kids… you get the idea)
I'm thinking of you
You are in my prayers

Those are helpful things. Every time I hear words like these I am strengthened to know that there are people in my life that are mourning with me. The word sorry means feeling distress. When you tell somebody you are sorry, you are telling them that their experience is making you feel distress for them--you are mourning with them.

My 5 year old is so good at this. He is such an example to me of true Christlike love. When he sees I'm not feeling well or am sad, he simply says, I'm sorry you don't feel good mom, and gives me a hug. I got to go on his first field trip with him and at one point a girl in his class tripped and fell. As she tried to keep up with the group and rub her hurt knee, my little guy came up beside her and said "I'm sorry you got hurt." It was simple and sincere. He didn't encourage her to toughen up, or move faster or tell her she would be ok in a minute, he acknowledged her hurt in that moment. That is mourning with those that mourn. We all want to feel validated for our feelings. We can give those around us that comfort and that validation in two simple words: I'm sorry. How big or small we may perceive the hurt of somebody else is not what is important. What is important is that they are hurting, and we can help.

I wanted to share some pictures of people that mourned, and still mourn with us (these pictures were a wonderful gift from a friend of my sister in law and they are so precious to me!). As I went through these pictures months after the experience I was again touched to the point of tears by the number of people that selflessly mourned with us, that offered us the simple heartfelt words of "I'm so sorry." There are still countless people that send me messages or simply and quietly offer as we pass in the halls at church- "I'm thinking about you." These words are so simple but so powerful. The pictures below represent just a few of these amazing people in my life. I know you can't see all of their faces, but that's because they were busy mourning with us.