Bracing for the Mother’s Day Tide

Child loss, Grief, Healing, Parenting, self care

It slowly creeps up on you – shortly after the retailers have cast aside their Easter / Hello Spring! merchandise and shift their strategies to closing the second quarter strong with one of the hallmark holidays mid year. Mother’s Day. Ugh – just seeing the combination of letters boldly staring back at me, stirs up this unsettling cocktail of emotions that triggers mainly the flight response in my body.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of Mother’s Day and when I lost my son Jude, it further amplified the mixed emotions I had about this seemingly innocent celebration of honour. But the fact is, for so many, Mother’s Day is a massive trigger point and it can be extremely difficult to navigate the anticipation of the day, especially when there is so much pressure (from what it feels like the entire universe) to celebrate it and acknowledge it, but only in it’s traditional form. I know I’m not alone in this sentiment (despite having a living child in my life who innocently embraces the opportunity to honour me) and I also know that it can feel extremely overwhelming to try and navigate the fast approaching Mother’s Day Tide heading straight in our direction.

Just like there’s so many facades of Motherhood that the day is intended to honour, there’s also so many dimensions to why so many of us dread and repeatedly wish the day away – year after year.

For some of us, the day is just too overwhelming to bear after the loss of a child. For others, the longing to mother a child crushed by infertility or false hope experienced through a rigorous adoption process can make us feel invisible. For those who have lost their own mother, the day can be filled with sadness and longing for our own mother’s love. For others, complicated relationships make it impossible to live up to the expectations of society’s idealism of the day, leaving us filled with shame, guilt and anger. Whatever dimension you find yourself in, the truth is, Mother’s Day is yours to honour however you feel is right for YOU.

YOU get to decide how you choose to honour your own individual motherhood on that day without having to answer to ANYONE.

It is extremely difficult to not conform to the idealism of the day, and it requires courage, intention and boundaries to protect your heart and do what feels right for you. Over the years I have navigated the tide of Mother’s Day in many different ways, but it wasn’t until after loosing my son Jude, that I unapologetically embraced the approach of honouring myself in a way that conformed to my own standards exclusively. Since embracing that approach, every year, the day is different for me. Some years the tidal wave is much stronger, loaded with grief that crashes fiercely against me, while other years, the waves are calm with the occasional undertow that pulls me under for short periods. On either end of that pendulum, I have come to recognize, be still and listen to what my heart is telling me it needs in the anticipated lead up to the day, allowing me to draw upon some strategies I’ve leveraged several times to navigate not only Mother’s Day, but other hallmark holidays that can leave a bereaved parent depleted.

This year, marks my 8th Mother’s Day since loosing my son Jude and one would think that by now, I would be a pro at this, but the truth is, every year is different and every year I rely on any one or several of these strategies to help me cope. So if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the fast approaching tidal wave of Mother’s Day, consider how some of these strategies may support you in surviving and navigating the day.

#1 “No” is a complete sentence.

Say no. No to brunch. No to Tea. No to Dinner. Just say no. It’s perfectly acceptable to say no to anything that will not bring your heart happiness and will deplete what little energy you have left just to make it through the day. We’re often pressured to just conform to what is expected of us to celebrate and mark the day in honour of all “mothers”, but if whatever you’re being pressured to be a part of doesn’t honour (or worse, acknowledge) your own motherhood, what’s the point? Respectfully bow out and say no. Period. No explanations required.

#2 Stay away from Social Media

The idealism of Mother’s Day is amplified on Social Media, with endless images and anecdotes dominating your feed. Spare yourself the heartache and stay away for the entire weekend. Turn off notifications, temporarily delete the apps from your devices, or better yet, place your phone on airplane mode or shut it off completely. Give yourself the space and time to just honour yourself in a way that is authentic to you and not invaded by what everyone around you is doing or thinks you should be doing. Even if you think you can manage without taking some of these measures — trust me. There’s always something that hits you and it’s just not worth it.

#3 Nurture in Nature

There’s something so healing and therapeutic about surrounding yourself with Nature. Decide to spend the day hiking, biking, walking or pack a picnic if you can and if the weather co operates. If the weather is not co operating, opt for a drive in the country side exploring new areas. Being outside and surrounded by nature will soothe the soul and give you the opportunity to connect – with your child(ren) and with yourself.

#4 Set Boundaries

Decide ahead of time, what your boundaries are. Even if you don’t communicate them to others, it’s good to have a clear view of what your boundaries are for the day. Decide how much time you want to dedicate to others on the day (if any) and what types of activities you want to participate in (again – if any. Staying in bed all day is perfectly fine too!). I always like to share boundaries with my husband so that he knows what I need and how he can support on the day. It’s ok to set a boundary even with respect to celebrating your own mother(s) and mother figures in your life. There’s ways that you can navigate this within a boundary parameter. On several occasions, I have opted to celebrate with my mom on a different day ahead of Mother’s Day as a way to mange my amplified emotions and sensitivity on the actual day. Although not always feasible, I have also purposely scheduled business trips over Mother’s Day as a physical boundary to protect myself and not “have to” be present on the actual day. However and whatever you decide to do, it’s important that you have those clear boundaries noted for yourself and if you choose to, share with others around you that will respect and honour them with and for you.

#5 Honour Yourself, your children and YOUR Motherhood

Whether you need to physically write one for yourself, or get someone else to write one for you, give yourself that permission slip to honour yourself, your children and your motherhood on the day. However and with whomever you want to. Whether you spend the day doing acts of kindness in honour of your children, or decide to pull out a blanket and just sit and spend the day at the resting place of your child(ren) – do it. Don’t be fussed about what other’s around you may think or say — there’s no manual that you must follow. And if there is one, please let me know because I’m yet to find it.

Attend a yoga or meditation class and dedicate the practice in honour of yourself – if you don’t think you deserve it, let me tell you, you do. Mothering a living child is hard. Mothering a dead child is heavy. Use the day as an opportunity to acknowledge yourself as a mother in whatever form it is, and give yourself permission to just for one day, place all of the heaviness, burden, anger and grief down and give your heart a place to rest. A place to be seen. A place to love the mother that you are.

Regardless of how you choose to navigate this hallmark holiday, show yourself some grace with the knowledge that motherhood is a journey. It’s unique to you, ever changing, and needs to be honoured in a way that acknowledges where you are in that journey. Don’t conform to someone else’s view of what it is and how it should be honoured. Conform to you and only you.

Be gentle with yourself and remember you are enough.

Mother’s Love Day

#judedays, Child loss, Grief, Healing, Parenting

Since loosing our sweet Jude, there are so many mundane conversation starter questions that I simply don’t use anymore, and dread being asked them; including “do you have any children?” or “ how many children do you have?”. These questions for a bereaved mom are dreadful and grief triggering, irrespective of where in her grief journey she is.

During my subsequent pregnancy after loosing Jude, I was introduced to a whole new set of triggering questions such as “is this your first?” or “ are you excited to become a mom?”.

Since having my daughter, a new set of triggering questions have presented themselves, but the one that has been triggering me the most is, “ how are you enjoying motherhood?”.

Like all of the other aforementioned questions, they are often asked innocently and mindlessly which to most moms, is ok. But not for a bereaved mom — and here’s why.

I’m already a mom. I’m already experiencing motherhood.

Before I was a mom to my daughter, I was a mom to my son Jude. He made me a mom.

The question itself implies that I’m new to motherhood which denies the existence of my son. And that is the triggering point. Any bereaved parent will tell you that the only thing that hurts just as much as loosing your child is the thought of your child being forgotten. His memory diminished. His existence erased.

There are multiple forms, sides and dimensions to motherhood.

Motherhood is easy when your child gets to live. It’s when they die that it’s hard.

Now I know that’s a bold statement to make, but as a mom that has the privilege to mother a child amongst the stars and mother a child below the stars, I have become familiar with the multiple dimensions of motherhood and can stand behind the statement. Each dimension has its joys and sorrows. It’s good days and bad days. It’s peaks and valleys. But at the end of the day, I get to hold my daughter and kiss her goodnight everyday — something I cannot physically do with my son. Something so many other moms who hold their babies only in their heart so desperately want, but simply cannot have. And not having that simple ritual is hard. Really hard. Unbelievably hard.

But yet, we manage to move forward every day – one day at a time. Tending to our heart and our child as if they were physically present, because to us, they are so unbelievably present in our hearts, our minds and in our souls. Every. Single. Day. That dimension of motherhood is hard.

So when asked the question of how I’m enjoying motherhood, I often respond with a somewhat mundane response sprinkled with a bit more raw honesty than most new moms would, which catches the inquirer by surprise. Just imagine how surprised they would be if I answered them truthfully and said that Motherhood is easy when your child gets to live. It’s when they die that it’s hard.

So today, on Mother’s Day, look around and acknowledge and honour all moms (and dads) – whether you can physically see their children or not. Afterall, as nurturing human beings, whether we bear our own children, raise someone else’s, have them physically with us or carry them in our hearts, we are all programmed to love, teach and nurture them in our own unique way.

Wishing you a gentle happy Mother’s Love Day today.

the village

#judedays, Child loss, Grief, Healing, Parenting

They say it takes a village. They are right. It takes a village to survive this thing called child loss.

It’s the village that lends a hand to get you back up from the black hole that you get thrown into after you loose your child – or a loved one for that matter.

It’s the village that allows you to speak the raw truth. Listens with no judgement. Offers no platitudes. Doesn’t rush you through your grief journey.

It’s the village that feels your pain. Understands the size, depth and complexity of the hole in your heart that longs for your child.

It’s the village that’s there on the Holidays. The special “would have been” milestones. The Anniversaries, to ensure that your fragile heart is bubble wrapped in love.

It’s the village that shows up on the first day of grief, the second week, the third month, the fourth year – time and time again to just “check in”; make sure you’re ok.

It’s the village that never forgets. Never shy’s from mentioning your child’s name. Always remembers with you.

I’m grateful for having a village. Many like me, simply don’t have one; leaving them feeling alone, tired and fearful that their child will be forgotten.

This journey is hard. I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like to walk the gravel roads of grief without the support of my village.

The fabric of my village is not unified. It’s a weaved tapestry of patches – souls brave enough to have stood by me or joined my side along this journey. Many of which; carry side by side in their hearts, not only their child, but also mine.

It’s these brave and generous souls that have enabled me to make sweet lemonade out of my motherhood.

For them and their babies; whom I love and carry in my heart alongside Jude, I am eternally grateful for and to.

Find your village in any of the resources below.

http://mendingheartsafterloss.com/

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Child Loss & Infertility

Mother’s Day with Jude

#judedays, Child loss, Grief, Healing, Parenting, Self Growth

I am fortunate that I have the opportunity to travel for my work. Work travel has taken me to so many travel destinations that I likely would have not been able to see on my own. Last year work took me to Vancouver, BC. I instantly fell in love with this humble and beautiful city. Too me it’s the heart of nature – where those that inhibit have the out most respect for its beauty and those that visit it, quickly get told if they disrespect it. It was here a year ago that it all began. It was here that my sweet Jude’s heart began to beat.

A year later, I ironically find myself back in Vancouver on Mothers Day Weekend to embrace this day and honour the infinite love between Jude and I.

As the plane descended and entered the magisterial embrace of the Rocky Mountains, my heart melted. The overwhelming feeling of love and presence of my baby boy Jude poured out and welcomed me back to this beautiful place. I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was truly coincidental that I was here on this weekend or whether this was Jude’s Mother’s Day gift to me. My heart believes the latter.

I prepared my heart for this weekend. I prepared it with unique ways that will help my husband and I honour our little boy. Celebrating our love and unique bond with him. Living his spirit brightly and keeping his memory alive always.

Packed in my carry on suitcase was a love rock I painted with his name and date of birth/death. It will not return home with me. Instead it will sit at the base of the Seven Sisters trees in Stanley Park where our breaths were taken away a year prior as we admired their remaining strong beautiful presence. Much like our sweet Jude’s strong presence in our lives. Folded neatly in my husband’s carry on suitcase were the origami paper boats that we carefully made and decorated in preparation for Jude’s voyage in the Pacific Ocean. Letting go of our baby boy and sending him off on the sail adventure of life is something all parents must do at one point in their child(ren) ‘s lives. Setting sail in his aragami boats with messages of love and support from his mommy and daddy was our way of setting our baby and our hearts free. Pressed between a travel journal purchased especially for Jude, were two postcards that were created and distributed to family and friends in memory of Jude. The postcards were born out of the desperate need to keep the memory of our baby alive, asking all friends and family to fulfill our wish of showing Jude the world by taking him with them on their vacations. The overwhelming response we received so far has been humbling. It was now our time to show our baby boy a part of our world that we had come to cherish partially because of him.

We started in Squamish, BC, where we rode the gondola to the very top of the mountains to take in the breath-taking views. The mountain tops were sprinkled with snow and the green hue varied from top to bottom of the mountain. At the very top of the mountain we pulled out Jude’s postcard and took a selfie – all three of us together for the first time.

It was also at the top of the mountain that I drew a stake in the ground and declared my motherhood through the healing project of #motherheartsalute. It was liberating to allow myself to join this pack and call myself a mother for the first time.

As the weekend went on, the love and presence of our little boy Jude intensified. It was present on the beach where my husband and I watched the waves crash into the rocks of the seashore, every time breaking them down a little much like Jude’s love did with our grief. We sat watching the people enjoy a beautiful afternoon of sun with their families, friends and pets, oblivious to our ceremonial presence. After our picnic lunch on the beach we carefully set out to pick the perfect place to gently launch the paper origami boats we had made for Jude. We hesitantly laid them down on the Pacific Ocean and watched as the waves rocked them back and forth eventually toppling them over and swallowing them into its fierce waves. Holding each other, we watched as our little boy and our hearts, fought the waves of the Pacific Ocean until he and our hearts stopped fighting and allowed ourselves to relax and ride the waves instead.

Our last ceremonial stop was the seven sisters in Stanley Park. Nestled between lovers trail and brittle trail, there the remains of the Seven Sisters surrounded by new tree growth just as tall, strong and present as the Seven Sisters were, is where we laid the love rocks that we made for Jude. Chances are someone will remove them eventually, but in my heart placing them there in that spot, reflected my belief that Jude deserved to be amongst them. His presence acknowledged, our love for him deeply rooted in the ground. His love and spirit free and high – to be admired by young and old.

Each ceremonial stop opened our hearts a little bit more and allowed hints of light back in. With each light streak came a flood of tears – joyful and sad tears that washed away the bitter pieces of our heart only leaving behind the pieces containing Jude’s love.

The revving of the airplane engines drowned out the noise around me, giving me the opportunity to acknowledge the beauty of the Rocky Mountains one more time and softly thank my sweet Jude for a unforgetable Mother’s Day Weekend. There’s only one thing that would make it better – having him with me.