“I don’t want to feel this pain, but feeling it keeps me close to my baby.”

This Maternal Mental Health Week, Petals counsellor Amy Benson shares her support for grieving parents in this touching blog post about staying connected to a lost child through grief.

Here at Petals, we know that when your baby dies, the way forward isn’t about saying goodbye, getting closure or forgetting. We understand that, for many parents, the only conceivable path forward is one where your baby remains important, loved and a big part of your daily life. We encourage you to find meaningful ways to stay connected to your baby, in the weeks, months and years that follow your loss.

These “continuing bonds” look different for different people – lighting a candle, listening to a particular song, visiting a meaningful place, getting a tattoo, writing to your baby, fundraising… there are so many creative ways to stay connected and it’s about finding ones that feel right for you.

Sometimes though, the most powerful way a parent stays connected to their baby is through feeling the pain of losing them.

Certainly for the parent who carried the child, the pain of baby loss is an embodied experience. Staying close to this physical yearning can, for some, mean staying close to their baby, so the two become fused together.

This poses a dilemma, because attaching to the pain over the long term becomes… well, too painful. Parents tell us: I can’t face a future where I remain in this much pain and distress, but to imagine a future where I feel better provides little comfort, because then, where is my baby? Are they forgotten?

Playing over and over again the multi-sensory recording of the most devastating moments of one’s loss – the sonographer’s facial expression or the exact words they used; the shocking sight of the blood or foetus during the miscarriage; the sound of no heartbeat at the midwife appointment; the heaviness in one’s chest while waiting in the ‘sad news’ room at the hospital – is an important part of the healing process in itself. And this process can even start to take on a soothing, comforting quality sometimes. This happened. This was part of my baby’s story. This is all I have. I want to remember every detail.

One mother, whose son was stillborn at 35 weeks three years ago, told me: “I attended a baby loss support group recently where two of the women had lost their babies just a few weeks ago. They were in the early stages of despair, when a future cannot be imagined. I actually felt jealous. A part of me would love to be back there, in so much pain, because I felt so close to my baby in that time. I feel so far away from him now.”

Guilt can also lead us to hold onto the pain of loss. Many parents speak of feeling terrible when they catch themselves having the occasional moment of peace, or laughter, or just a period of time when their baby is not at the front and centre of their thoughts. How can I be enjoying myself, when my baby died? What right do I have to joy, when my baby didn’t get to experience life at all?

In my experience of working with baby loss, parents cannot be rushed out of this place of feeling deeply connected to their pain.

No matter how much those around them encourage (or criticise), it needs to play out, and take as long as it takes. As one mother told me, many months after the stillbirth of her son, “This is the only part of my life that makes sense at the moment. I’m lost everywhere else, I’ve no idea how to be. But here, sitting in this pain, it’s the only place where I don’t feel insane.”

If this is something you are experiencing at the moment, here are a few things to keep in mind:

1. First, don’t worry, you are not crazy. Lots of people feel this way after losing their baby. If it is providing you with some comfort during this terrible chapter of your life, then let it be.

2. Consider explaining this to those around you, who might not understand. You could say something like: “I won’t always be like this, but I am not yet ready to be any other way and the kindest thing you can do for me, is to tolerate it and allow me to grieve in my own time.”

3. Keep reminding yourself that two conflicting feelings can exist at once – they do not cancel each other out, and we do not need to pick a side. You can feel utter despair while crying your eyes out and feel a lovely comforting sensation from that cup of tea warming your hands. You can miss your baby desperately and you can laugh at the Netflix show. You can feel guilt-stricken that your child didn’t get to see a sunset and be moved by the beauty of one yourself.

I subscribe to the idea that the point of life isn’t to feel happy, it’s to feel everything.

4. Try to meet your sadness, despair, anger or guilt as a friend. Create a space inside of you where these dark emotions can exist safely, where you can respond to them with kindness and understanding. Every feeling is bearable, so long as it has a safe place to live.

5. Finally, notice the moments of love and beauty that exists inside of your grief, even if these are the faintest of glimmers. Don’t disregard them. Catch them like individual feathers and before long you may have enough to fill a duvet to comfort you during these dark days.