The Emotional Battle
As you grieve the loss of the dream child, learn how to feel your feelings without them consuming you!
Previously, I have shared the overwhelming emotions I experienced when Nathan and I received the news of my son Caiden’s devastating diagnosis and prognosis at 4 months of age. The shock, the terror, the floor falling out from under me. Someone died that day, although we are all still alive and ticking. I’m embarrassed to admit that before hearing about his prognosis, I imagined myself as being some kind of a hero to my adopted son. I was convinced, our love would heal and rehabilitate his brain and body into a full, miraculous recovery. For those who are reading my blog for the first time, Caiden suffered anoxia at birth which damaged his brain irrevocably, leaving him with Cerebral Palsy, severe epilepsy, nonverbal, wheelchair-bound and with a slew of other medical issues. What I didn’t understand that day, years ago, is my dream had died and I had already begun to grieve the loss.
In the war against joylessness, we must confront the wide range of emotions that we experience when processing the death of the dream child. Whether your child was born of pregnancy or adoption, you probably imagined and dreamed of what he or she would be like long before his or her existence. Before a name was even picked out, you had made plans for what life with your child would become. What kind of parent you would be, how you would dress him/her, what school he/she would attend, what sports he/she would play, etc. And when this child’s doctor delivered a definitive diagnosis and prognosis this imagined life is essentially destroyed in an instant and you are left powerless to change this truth. Although, with therapy, medication, surgery or special education you may be able to mitigate the extent of the loss, the fact remains—the life you had imagined will never be.
I now recognize that I have dealt with the stages of grief a few times in my life. One of those times was when I battled infertility and lost. The emotions surrounding these stages are still palpable to me. So, when I began to feel those same emotions again after Caiden’s diagnosis, I knew I would have a tough battle ahead of me. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance have become like friends to me. Although, I don’t particularly like the process of grieving, I realize how necessary each stage has been for my well being and how ignoring wrestling through these stages is detrimental to joy.
The stages of dying were identified by Dr. Elisabeth Kubler Ross and later adapted for grief by she and David Kessler in their book On Grief and Grieving. Although, Kessler makes it clear that the stages are not linear or a map through the suffering of a loss, understanding them can help us become “better equipped to cope with life and loss.” In a helpful video on grief.com, Kessler explains that the stages can be applied to all kinds of loss and proclaims: “We can’t heal what we don’t feel . . . [and] when we run from grief we are in the pain longer.” I propose, as perhaps others have elsewhere, these stages can help us, parents of children with special needs, cope with the loss of the child that could have been, the one that we had imagined, hoped for, and even expected. And even though the “dream child” never actually existed, the loss is quite real and so is the pain. But Kessler gives us hope when he encourages us “to remember the lost loved one with more love than pain.” Here, I think it is important to note that you have not only lost the “dream child” but also the “dream you”—the happy person you hoped to become once the desires of your heart came to fruition. How do you grieve when the person you lost is you?
And can we embrace all our emotions, even the ugly ones, through all the stages of this kind of grief? In doing so, is it possible to grow in love and not bitterness? I think deep love for your actual self and your actual child (not the dream) is possible and must be aggressively sought after. Here is where we must fight. But in this battle the fight will seem more like surrender. Bitterness over what could have been, steals all possibility for joy in what could be! Although the dream is gone, your child, the actual one who is right in front of you, remains with the hope of a new kind a life you never imagined before. No one imagines having more challenges can be a better life than one without them. But the truth is, this life with Caiden and all his complications has been better than anything I could have planned for myself. If you don’t believe that statement, believe this: I would rather have Caiden the way he is now than not at all! Plain and simple, his life, in whatever form, means more to me than some fantasy that never existed. I ground myself in gratitude for what I do have and surrender the illusions of a care-free life.
Of course, this gratitude can only come once you have honored the truth of all you are feeling during and after the loss. The most detrimental thing you can do is avoid the painful emotions and “be strong” and carry on! Pretending your pain isn’t real, and that what you have lost isn’t significant, will only delay the process and keep you stuck in tragedy. I suggest leaning into the loss and embracing the vacancy. This is what may feel like surrender instead of fighting. But when facing ugly emotions, your mind and body will want to retreat and escape the pain. Instead, stay in it. Try journaling, or communicating with special persons, those willing to just listen and who do not try to solve the nuances of the pain you feel. Many well-meaning friends will try to alleviate your pain by giving advice, perhaps even suggesting you should feel grateful for what you have, before you are actually capable. During grief, we need to be heard not fixed. Because the fact remains—your loss IS unfair, cruel and tragic. It’s true, you have been dealt a tough break and there are others who have it way easier than you do. It may even be true, that your prenatal care was deficient, or your genetics failed you and your baby. All of these facts cannot be denied, and neither can the difficult emotions they produce. The anger, sadness and guilt are real because the facts behind them are real too.
Speaking to a counselor, coach or an expert in this kind of grief may be necessary to help you process through your emotions and not become consumed by them. Someone who will allow you to express feelings over your loss without judgement or placing pressure on you to “move on”. Because the fact is, you never actually “move on”, you move into. You must move into the darkness to get through to the light! Although the facts are true and your loss is unfair, this perspective is incomplete. You must widen the scope of your lens to see the entire story and where it could go. If your story stopped at the loss, then it would remain a tragedy. But if you keep going, you begin to learn there are other real facts. Like the fact that although your child is different, perhaps not in optimal health and requires unique care, he/she is quite resilient, amazing and even inspiring. Or consider the fact, that although you are grieving, you still manage to care for your child and all their needs; that makes you stronger than you think. Or what about the fact that you wish for a cure and a better future, which means you live in hope. And you can’t have hope without LOVE.
As you move into and through the darkness of your emotions, your tragedy can become an epic love story. With time and proper healing, you can discover the beauty of the imperfect and find you can be satisfied, even joyful, when you don’t get what you want. Equipped with newfound wisdom, you can move into a new life with greater meaning and live more joyfully than you could have ever lived without the “tragedy” of the loss. One day, you may even feel gratitude for the tragedy and all that it has taught you and helped you become.
Don’t believe me, but you want to? Contact me. Let’s see if coaching can help you move through the tricky emotions of loss and into your new life with greater meaning! Next week, more to come as we continue the Fight for Joy on the Emotional Battlefront—we are not done here yet. Until then, God bless you abundantly!