#29 Being a bereaved mother
A bereft-ness no one knows. A pain no one should ever have to know.
Last Sunday, the second Sunday of May, was international mother’s day. Children and mothers and grandmothers and mother-figures and mothers-to-be – it was indeed a happy and bright occasion across the realm of motherhood. Not for all mothers though. For those who are grieving the loss of their mothers, for those in strained relationship with their children/mothers, for those seeking motherhood but unable to conceive or give birth – occasions like mother’s day add to their pain.
And then there are some who feel even more sunk in their isolative grief and pain. The mothers who are chosen to bear the cross of a grief coming from the ultimate bereavement – the loss of a child, that is painfully hard to even imagine, leave alone understand. Their motherhood needs a different kind of affirmation – a sombre and quiet affirmation. Acknowledging this hard reality, Carly Marie Dudley, a mother in Australia who having experienced the hard pain of parental bereavement after still-birth of her child, decided to dedicate the first Sunday of May to honour the grief of bereaved mothers. Observed a Sunday ahead of the popular International Mother’s Day, the International Bereaved Mother’s Day seeks to gently remind people to remember and reach out to mothers who lost their children of any age to death, pregnancy loss, still-birth, SIDS, infant loss or disappearance. I would extend it to those as well who are desirous of motherhood but unable to conceive, bear, birth, adopt or raise a child.
My wayward and wise grief
Both of the above days, the first and second Sunday of May I tried writing – something, anything. But nothing emerged. A stark blankness remained writ large on paper/screen. Or shall I say – on my heart. Last year around this time, I didn’t just post twice in May (#18 Grieving Mothers posted on May 2, 2023, and #19 How many children do you have? posted on May 14, 2023) but also wrote an article titled A mother’s day, no mother should have to live for the Times of India, published on the first Sunday of May 2023 – the international bereaved mother’s day. So why did my pen (actually, heart and mind) dry up this year? Well, that is the peculiar complexity of a mother’s grief. A deadening silence. Or a deafening wail. A warm cape of grace. Or a torn blanket of bereftness. A mother’s grief is wayward. It has a strange kind of forever-ness – both tough and tender at the same time, and timeless.
“To the after-sorrow
That will last my lifetime. The hair-tearing
Grief of the mother
Whose child has been swept away”
~ Mary Jo Bang
A mother’s grief is wise too. It learns to live with no-closure and its wayward-ness. My grief has taught me that it is ok for some questions to remain destitute and not find a home. That even its wayward-ness is wise in its own way. So I didn’t force myself to make sense of my blankness last two Sundays. Instead I let it unravel its meaning. It sure did – at its own time, in its own way. My blank mind, listless heart and dry pen began to flow again – with the ink of love. A love brave enough to enter the profound void of ultimate bereavement.
A void like none
There are words like ‘orphan’, ‘widow’ and ‘widower’ in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. What should a bereaved mother call herself? What identity would you give her? Karla Holloway, an English Professor at Duke University, and a bereaved mother herself, felt “punished by this empty space of language”, and decided to honour her bereaved-motherhood. She chose the Sanskrit word ‘vilomah’ as a name for her tragic identity. Literally speaking ‘violmah’ means ‘opposite’ or ‘in the other direction’. It does not bear a direct connection with the loss of a child. But come to think of it, isn’t this profound loss against or “opposite to” the natural order of things. The death of a child is indeed ‘vilomah’ – in every sense against the natural order of life whereby parents are not expected to outlive their children. It triggers intense failure and survivor guilt in parents, especially in mothers whose instincts create in them a natural responsibility to protect, nurture and care for their children across all life-stages. A foetus, a still-born, an infant, a growing kid or an adult – she is unable to forgive herself for outliving her child. How! just how can she be at peace with her child having become “a box of ashes” as poet and bereaved mother Mary Jo Bang laments –
“How could I not have saved you…
How can I not reach where you are…
How can I be…
And you not.”
~ Mary Jo Bang
A PRESENCE like none
A grieving mother’s heart bears a shattered-ness and emptiness that is hard to contemplate, even harder to comprehend. Her grief lives on. It does not embrace past-tense. Her love is eternal. And grief being the cry of love, her grief too remains abides. Yet the truth remains that her heart is a mystical space, where her transcended child resurrects – as PRESENCE that grows beyond the gnawing absence. Her heart is where her lament is healed by her love. Her heart is where her cry of grief allows space for celebration of her child. Her heart knows how to forgive the unkind blow of destiny. Her heart is the womb where her child comes alive, never to die again.
“Love goes beyond Death
The body disappears
The person lives…
In Love
And in this Love
Remembrance is born”
~ Neena Verma
Living with, what you can’t even cope with
But how do those crushed under the weight of ultimate bereavement cope with their ravaging grief? Well, you make space for what has come to live with you, perhaps for lifetime. What we cannot cope with, we learn to carry it. We learn to affirm it. We learn to live with it. We learn to hold ourselves in faith and strength. We learn to keep our heart warm and open. We reach out and call for help when we need it. And we spread our arms open to those we can help carry theirs.
Sadly, bereaved parents don’t easily find the support of a compassionate and wise companion. The situation is even harder for grieving mothers whose pain has to lay still beneath the mask of everyday stoic-ness. People expect them to “be strong” and “move on”. But hardly anyone there to hold space for and companion them in a way that would help them affirm and heal their grief, and adapt to their post-loss life. No good in judging though. Truly speaking, many of us are limited in our grief sensitivity and grief wisdom. Even more so around a bereaved parent. However it is possible and very much desirable to cultivate grief wisdom to companion those on grief journey. A most basic tip – please remember when you don’t know what to say, it is best to say nothing. When it comes to companioning a grieving mother (or parent, or any griever for that matter) – please park away cliches and platitudes.
“every mother
who has lost a child
is living that nightmare.
the one you tell her
that you can’t imagine living.
she is beyond imagining…
stop telling her she is strong.
hold out your arms
and let her collapse.”
~ Sara Rian
Let your felt energy speak in words or non-verbals. It will convey just the right message.
And on Mother’s Day
Any day, just every day is hard for a grieving mother. And the mother’s day! Well, it is hard in a way that is hard to explain, even harder to understand. If you happen to meet a grieving mother on the mother’s day – please allow her to be. She may be unsociable. Let her have her quiet space. Or she may be seeking company. Offer it – the way she needs it. Not the cliched way. Not the way you think it will help. Instead, the way that works for her. The way that will soothe her. A mother’s grief may look too raw and traumatized, or too calm and tender, or too brave and stoic, or any other way that defies stereotypical norms. Whatever shape or form her grief takes, please hold her grief with the sovereignty and dignity it deserves. Please follow her lead. Please companion her, not direct, norm or advise her.
Acknowledge and affirm her motherhood. If it seems possible, please talk about her child. When people forget her deceased child, the bereaved mother feels forgotten and isolated away. Truth is nothing comforts a grieving mother better than talking about her child. This affirms her child’s PRESENCE. She loves hearing her child’s name being called. She loves telling and hearing stories about her child. Listen to her heart. And gift her heart a story about her child, of-course if only you have one. This may well turn out to be a precious Mother’s Day (any day) gift to her. If like me you too couldn’t muster strength on mother’s day, it is never too late to extend warmth and strength to a bereaved mother. Do it now.
To grieving mothers
I hope you let your heart reminisce, rejoice and celebrate your child-in-absence, your child who has become eternal PRESENCE. Remember to separate your grieving love for your child-gone, from your affirming-love for your other child(ren). I know you do it every day, in a quiet corner of your heart, as only you can. Painful it is, I know – in my heart, bones and nerves, as a fellow grieving mother. Profoundly meaningful too, you and I both know, as only a grieving mother can and does know.
Celebrate your child(ren) – born, still-born, un-born. Write them a letter of love, of remembrance. Say things that life didn’t give you chance to say. Cook your child’s favourite meal, or the one you wished to cook for your un-born or still-born baby. Read a book that your child loved, or you loved/wanted to read to her. Play the game you dreamt to or could actually play together. Plant a tree in her/his remembrance. Instead of fighting with and drowning in the tsunami of painful and traumatic emotions, acknowledge and affirm them. And you will see a gentle strength slowly sprouting in the garden of your sorrow. Reach out to other grieving mothers and extend your warm embrace of solace, compassionate support and strength. Tap/buzz me if you would like my companioning and expert help.
As a ‘Grief & Growth’ Specialist; ‘Leadership, Resilience, Wellbeing & Transitions’ Coach, Practitioner and Trainer; and ‘Appreciative Inquiry’ Expert – I am here to help you in navigating your own grief journey, and re-generating a life of resilience and meaning; or in learning to companion others on a similar path. I work with individuals, families, groups and organizations.
My therapy and counselling sessions, and training groups create and hold a safe, compassionate and regenerative space to help grievers affirm their grief, allow it an expression, heal it and grow from it.Please reach me at growwithneena@gmail.com if you need (whether in personal, family, professional or organizational context) counselling, coaching, therapy or training in grief healing, resilience, wellbeing, post-traumatic growth, meaning and purpose clarity, and appreciative inquiry. And please share forward my coordinates with those in similar need.
Hope you find solace, support and strength in my books Grief ~ Growth ~ Grace – A Sacred Pilgrimage and A Mother’s Cry .. A Mother’s Celebration. Please read yourself, and recommend andgift to someone on a grief journey, and to the grief practitioners. I would be happy and grateful to read your review on Amazon & Goodreads. And if you happen to make a social media post about my books &/or newsletter, please do tag me. Warm gratitude.
Stay tuned to continue learning more about the complex multi-layered phenomenon of grief, and my six-phase GROWTH Mandala model. And to cultivate, deepen and spread #GriefWisdom and #GriefSensitivity.
Above all, allow your tears of pain to be shed, and your smile of love to regenerate.
Neena
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Very poignant, so well expressed. Left me speechless
"I hope you let your heart reminisce, rejoice and celebrate your child-in-absence, your child who has become eternal PRESENCE" - lovely lines, Neena. Thank you for this post that resonated so much.