A Light for My Path

I belong to two private online groups for bereaved parents. Private in that membership is strictly limited to people who have lost a child. Not a parent, a spouse, sibling, or even a grandchild. This may seem unnecessarily limiting to some, but the reasoning is that child loss is unique. Bereaved parents face enough external comparison of their loss to someone other than a child, even to a pet, or to a child’s departure to college or move to another state. The group moderators want members to feel like they can express their feelings, emotions, and concerns openly with others who can truly say “me, too.”

There are other bereaved parent groups, but the two I belong to also espouse the Christian faith and require that members adhere to Biblical principles.

A fear that is often expressed in these groups is losing another child. Sadly, many group members have experienced just that – the loss of more than one child or even all their children. Statistically the likelihood of a parent losing more than one child is very small. In first world countries with modern medical care and safety regulations, child death is thankfully rare. Most babies born full-term and healthy live to a ripe old age. Few parents outlive their children these days. Even fewer outlive more than one child.

So, when it does happen, we parents are less equipped to cope with losing a child than people were a century ago. Certainly, my great-grandmothers each mourned the babies that only lived a few months or years, or were born straight into Heaven. But, they had friends and neighbors who had also experienced this grief. Comfort and commiseration were close at hand.

One reason why online bereaved parent groups exist now is because often the only other person we “know” who has lost a child is on the other side of the country. Comfort and commiseration are virtual.

Regardless of statistical probability, once you’ve lost a child, a common fear is that you will lose another one. It happened once, it could happen again.

So, we worry. I do. My older daughter is very good about texting me when she arrives from a road trip or if there’s been a serious weather event in her area. She knows I worry. If there’s been an accident or problem, we preface a phone call or text with “everyone is okay, but” (the car is damaged; I’m delayed; stitches but nothing life-threatening, etc.). It helps. It quickly assuages the initial panic. But, there’s always next time – real or imagined.

My two oldest grandchildren are driving now. They are both good drivers. But, they are teenage boys. I worry. My son-in-law and his two oldest children are taking flying lessons. It’s a great bonding experience and a great skill for the future. And it scares me rigid. Not because they don’t have a good instructor. Not because they aren’t all smart, careful, and capable.

Just because the thought of losing someone else makes my stomach hurt and my heart tighten.

And brings me to my knees. Which, honestly, is the only place I truly receive comfort. It helps to hear from other bereaved parents that I’m not alone in my fears and worries. My rational brain relies on statistics and facts about probabilities. But, the only real cure for my tornado of worries and fears is to give them to God.

Over and over and over again.

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Laura