Lesson 5: People We've Lost

• What is the first experience with grief that you remember? My parents divorced when I was 3ish. I have memories of the visits to my Dad and having to say goodbye and how gut wrenchingly sad it was. And seeing him cry (he never cries). When I was 11 my Grandpa Pickren died. He was not part of my day-to-day life as an 11 year old but I loved spending time with him. He was so kind and gentle. It was a sad trip. Especially my Dad's sadness. That was my first family funeral. I went to one when I was a little younger. My Sunday School teacher had died and she was a woman I adored. My mom made the effort to take just me to the funeral - it was just her and I. And I think that was so fantastic of her. It taught me that initial grief cycle but in a very gentle way.

  • Who is the most important person you've lost? Write about them. Recall specific memories. The most important and devastating loss I've had is my miscarriages. I don't know how to describe that in proper words. This is rather timely though. It's been on my mind. My ex-husband (who is incapable of sending me an email that is not sprinkled with insults) sent one this weekend that said I kept him from being a father - both naturally and adoptive. First - it's disgusting to distinguish between the two. It's 100% messed up. He says 'adoptive' because I moved across the country for a massive pay raise and higher profile position that has been amazing for my career. And he says 'naturally' because I couldn't stay pregnant. I got pregnant over and over and over again. At best guess in talking with the doctor that eventually did my hysterectomy I had about 60 miscarriages over 14 years - maybe more. My ex-husband knows this and he chose to say that was me keeping him from becoming a father. This man watched me go through agony. He watched it rip me to shreds. He watched my physically suffer over and over again. And he now says "you kept me from being a father", He's disgusting. My grief about those babies when I sit with it is deep and painful. It is weaved into who I am as a human being. If I sit too long it overwhelms me. It's weaved into the way I love my daughters now. It's weaved into the way I view life. Those are my babies. They will always be my babies. No matter who talks about it or dismisses it or blames me. They were MY BABIES. They were desperately wanted and longed for. I prayed and worked. I tried to be a perfect Mormon because maybe it was God punishing me. I worked through anger at God for instilling in me this innate need to mother and then denying me motherhood. I don't feel the same way about God as I did when I was invested in Mormonism. I'm out of that life now and I view this experience differently but the one solid thing that will never change is - those are my babies. I will probably never stop grieving them, wondering who they would have been. I named my very first Gweneth Oneida. Gweneth is a name I always loved. I like the spelling Gwyneth which is more traditional by my ex-husband's grandmother spelled it Gweneth so that was the plan. Oneida is - among many things - a Native American name that meant "long awaited". I forget which tribe. I had to stop naming them as the miscarriages happened though. The name made the weight heavier. And couldn't bear it. My years later - just before my hysterectomy - I got 60 helium balloons from the grocery store. There was a couple "It's a boy" and "It's a girl" balloons in it. We went down to the river outside of town in Wyoming and released them one at a time. To honor each moment. And my no vile ex-husband was kind and gentle. He held me and said a prayer. We sat there while they drifted away. I took pictures. It started to rain which just felt right. Like the earth and heaven were grieving with me. Until this weekend I thought it was the only thing we still shared - my ex-husband & I. But I was wrong. That's gone now too. It's just me still honoring my babies. I have also made a quilt - well the top. Some day I'll put the back on it but I've been saying that forever. It's just something about putting the back on that feels final. And I know when I'm done and I have this quilt honoring my babies... I am going to sob & it is going to be hard. And so I keep procrastinating it... Although I'd really like to have it to wrap in right now.

• Is there someone you've lost that you'd like to write a letter to? What would you say? Oh gosh. I don't know. If I wrote to my babies I would write about how I wish I knew who they were now. I wish I got to see a glimpse of what they do in the afterlife/spiritual plane/universe. I wish I got to hear their stories and watch them grow. I wish with an ache I can't explain in words that I could pull each one into my arms one at a time and hold them. My heart and soul are full of wishes. But I would also tell them that sometimes I feel them. I hope they know that I can feel that when they're near and with me. I think there's probably a lot of times they are and I don't feel it. I have to sit and be open to it. And I'm sorry that I can't do it more. The sorrow and loss just overwhelms me. I love them so much and I hope they know that.

• What is your most recent experience with grief? How is it different from earlier experiences? My most recent experience is an employee that I have. It turns out she's not an honest or trustworthy person. She's lied about me (and others). The problem for her is that people know she's doing it. Her lies are not believable. She's ruined her career at our company and I don't think she understands that yet. No matter what she does from this point forward I will never trust her. Neither will my boss or his boss or the boss above that - because they all know what she's done. And the leadership up the chain to the top in HR. They all know too. She can never undig this whole. I'm really sad about her. She's tainted my joy at work. She's tainted my team. I hate it.

• What have you gained through loss? This may only apply if enough time has passed to give you the needed perspective. What I have gained... I already had a compassionate nature in general but I do feel like that reached a different depth. And over the years I can't even begin to count how many conversations I've had with women who have been through a miscarriages or infertility or adoption disappointments (both birth mothers & adoptive mothers). I can connect to them in a way that doesn't require that they use words to explain. I understand. They don't have to fumble for words for pain that has no words. I know to sit with people in their grief - no matter what the grief is about. Platitudes and smoothing over pain - those things don't bring peace to the one bearing the grief. They put distance between you and the griever. And I love my children - Mama's love their children. We all love them to the depths but there's a place carved in me from these experiences and that extra place fills with love for my lost babies and pours into my daughters all the more.