Remember when you became a mum for the first time and you would do the new mum jiggle? It was a slight bobbing up and down and a sway side to side while hugging your precious newborn bundle against your chest. Delirious with exhaustion and overwhelmed at how your life has changed beyond recognition, you’d snort and giggle nervously as the well-wishers arrived, saying to them: “Haha, shame there’s no instruction manual that comes with having a newborn, isn’t it?” When actually, inside you were screaming “HELP ME! Where is the f**king handbook? I don’t think I can do this!”
Oh what I wouldn’t give to be holding that newborn Aimee now, worrying about my decision to bottle-feed instead of breast, berating myself incase she didn’t bond with me and I wasn’t giving her the best start in life.
Now, thirty years on, the worries are so much bigger and life-changing. I’m holding her while she grieves the second huge loss in her life. The first, her best friend at 25 and now, 5 years later, her person. Gone from this life way too soon and much too young. And I’m still screaming inside for that f**king instruction manual, knowing full well, there isn’t one.
How can I help her when, at the age of 57, I’m blessed not to have experienced the pain and loss that she already has in her young life? Yes, she is now an adult and, as this is her second time in dealing with intense grief, she knows so much more than me about what she needs at this time. She understands what her body and mind will be going through and the ugly, twisted journey that grief will take her on until she starts to see a way through, living with the pain.
All I can do is be there for her and surround her with love, patience, understanding and space.
But she is still my child and it hurts that I can’t take away her pain.
I feel like a new mum all over again and I hope I’m doing it right…
What Can I/You Do?
While I question ‘am I doing this right?’ Aimee has told me herself that this is what helps:
Be specific when asking questions. Rather than asking, “How are you?”—which can feel overwhelming—try more focused questions like, “How was your dog walk?” or “How did you sleep last night?” When someone is grieving and their emotions are scattered, these specific questions provide a tangible point of reference for them to respond from.
Be comfortable with silence. Sitting in silence can be powerful. There’s no need to fill the space with conversation, which might feel draining for both of you.
Support them through their tears. If they begin to cry, simply hold them and be present. Don’t try to stop their tears; it’s important for them to release their emotions.
Acknowledge the ups and downs. If they seem to be having a ‘normal day,’ express your happiness for them, but also understand that their mood may shift suddenly as grief can be unpredictable. Let them know it’s wonderful if they’re feeling ‘okay’ right now, and reassure them that it’s also okay if that changes later.
Oh Lisa, I am so truly sorry for your family’s loss. Sending SO much love. ❤️
Thank you Jenni. 🩷