Grief Isn't A One Size Fits All

Most view grief as something you experience when you have lost someone you love. By definition, it's viewed as an emotional response; it also has physical, cognitive and behavioral components.

My dear friend sent me the photo above. It's of a note her grandmother wrote herself after her daughter passed away. Not only do I feel privledged to be witness to it, it has also provided encouragement for me in more ways than one. It's a simple, yet truthful, explanation of grief. 

The first handful of miscarriages were extremely tough on my marriage. Sounds like a no brainer comment, I know. Aside from having to grieve the loss of our babies, I was also grieving the expectation that Josh and I would grieve in the exact same way.

Josh and I grieve VERY differently, our needs are quite opposite from one another. His comfort tendency is to surround himself with friends, be social and keep life propelling forward with normalcy. My comfort tendency is to be a recluse, stay home and cry, escaping normal life because it reminds me of what I have lost. 

One story, in particular, highlights this.

It was our third miscarriage, the loss of our daughter. We had heard the heartbeat, only days before we were forced to say good-bye. I desired to stay at home, lay on the couch watching bad reality TV. Josh did so for a while, then said he wanted to go to a friends house for a game night. I was pissed, how could he leave me? I proceeded to fall asleep on the couch and woke up an hour later to discover he was gone. Pissed is an understatement. I was livid! All I could think was how unsupportive he was in this vulnerable time. When he returned home he explained he had woken me up to tell me he was leaving and I that I had acknowledged him with an, "Okay." 

It took us a long time to unpack our grieving tendencies. It took me an even longer time to accept Josh's grieving process as his own verses something he does purposeful to hurt me. I use to look back on the story above and get angry and hurt. In the same way going about my normal life would cause me pain, now I see sitting on couch only made Josh's pain that much more deep. 

I suppose that's one silver lining of having endured so many miscarriages. Each one has forced us to learn to support and love one another unconditionally during painful times, even when our own pain is so deep it hurts to breath.

See, that's the things about grief, it comes in different sizes and doesn't look the same on everyone, it isn't a one size fits all.