Early Tuesday morning, I went to the doctor for the first time in a looonnngg time, part of my journey to take better care of myself. And when they weighed me, I realized that I have gained 5lbs. It was a struggle to choke that down, but I did, reinforced to myself that I know I am moving my body and trying to eat fairly well-balanced, and carried on with my day. But then yesterday I saw a picture of me and I thought, “That’s what you look like now? Geez you’ve let yourself go”… I started to obsess. I thought about the weight gain, kept zooming in on every aspect of this picture… I am not wearing my cute heels like I used to before Kenz, I didn’t put on my jewelry, not enough makeup to hide the circles and imperfections, my thick thighs… I couldn’t sleep last night, tossed and turned, and just honestly started to beat myself up. As many bereaved parents know, losing a child can make you feel inadequate, guilty, a failure. I don’t know if any of my fellow bereaved parents do this, too (I am guessing so), but it’s like everything started to compound on me… failing by losing Kenz, failing by gaining weight, failing at “keeping myself up”… and it just keeps going, right?

This morning I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and reviewed some of my meetings for the day, which luckily includes seeing my grief counselor late this afternoon. Each session of grief counseling I have gotten into this habit of updating her on where I feel like I have done “work” on processing my grief, things I am proud of, and things I am struggling with. (If you are not doing this type of reflection each week, grieving mommas, I highly recommend it.) Something she always ends our session with is, “And make sure you are being kind to yourself.” As I was preparing my session notes, I paused and thought about the last couple of days and how unforgiving I was being to myself, and what I was going to say about this to my counselor. I looked down at my notes, and I realized that my section on the work I was putting in to process losing Kenz and the things I was proud of outnumbered my list of things I was struggling with. And yet, I was obsessing so much more over the failure side of things. But that’s what we do as humans, though, right? We hyper focus on our failures and struggles, and very rarely do we acknowledge the good we are putting out into the world.

“The death of a child is considered the single worst stressor a person can go through,” (Carr). If you have experienced this horrible trauma, you know all of the different psychological, biological, and social consequences that come from this devastating event. And while we as grieving parents know them, it’s hard to be intentional about giving ourselves grace when we are experiencing the symptoms of grief. We expect ourselves to get back up, work, care for our families, care for our own physical and mental health, “act fine” and eventually reintegrate into society just like we were pre-loss/pre-trauma. We look in the mirror and have this expectation/want/yearning to see the same person we were “before”, but that’s realistically not ever going to happen. That person is gone, and standing in the mirror is someone who is radically different. And it’s learning to appreciate this new person that is the journey that is grief.

So as I looked in the mirror this morning, I told myself some of these things:

1. Good job getting your 10,000 steps in each day and moving your body in some type of physical exercise four days this week. Grief makes you want to hideaway in bed and not get up. You didn’t do this and made sure to be active and healthy.
2. Good job going to the doctor at Froedtert, as doctor offices are triggering, particularly where Kenz had radiation; your own healthcare is important.
3. Good job contributing to the childhood cancer world this week and trying to make a difference for families and bring education to the public about our kiddos.
4. Despite what our society likes to make us think, your worth is not defined by your physical looks… Your worth is so much more because of the good you put out to others.
5. Mackenzie loved you just as you are.
6. You are doing your best.

I am not perfect… I carry my grief internally and externally. Sixteen months ago I held my daughter’s hand and gently stroked her head as she took her last breath, and I won’t ever get that image out of my head; it torments me daily. But every day I show up and do my best. And I know you do, too, friend.

If you are a grieving parent, I hope you will take the time to write down your own positives and what you are proud of today. And if you feel like sharing, I would love to celebrate with you. ❤

Courtney