By Lisa Manterfield
I’ve been writing and talking a lot about grief—here on the blog, in my fiction, in my personal life, in the novels I’m reading, and in the Life Without Baby book. Even when I got chatting to a stranger on a plane, the conversation turned to the topic of grief.
Over paper cups of tea, this woman—who had lost her brother to suicide—and I talked about how grief stays with us long after we’re “over it”, how the shape of grief changes with time, how it can change us, and how everyone carries around their own personal grief.
My only regret in the discussion is that it didn’t begin sooner on our journey, because I would have liked to hear more about what she had to say on the subject. But eventually we parted ways, she to her office and I to catch another flight, and I didn’t have the opportunity to ask her more about her grief.
So, I’d like to ask you instead.
- How has your grief changed over time?
- How has your loss changed you?
- In what ways has your grief crept out, even when you’ve tried to keep it under wraps?
As a society, I don’t believe the topic of grief gets enough attention. We’re uncomfortable with grieving people, no matter what type of loss they’ve suffered, but it’s especially true when the loss isn’t understood.
So let’s start the conversation now. Let’s talk about this grief. I’d love to hear what you have to say.
My grief crept out yesterday at a Seminar during a table discussion. I just couldn’t hold it and rushed to the bathroom to pray.
I returned to the table just on time, they have changed the subject.
My grief is less intense than it used to be ( 4 yrs after a hysterectomy ended a 12 year journey of trying to have our own family). It still sneaks up on me at unexpected times though.. when my colleague speaks fondly about her weekend spent with her grandchildren, at Christmas time or birthdays, when a close friend has a new baby… I am learning to adjust to a life that I did not plan or want and am grateful for a supportive husband and our cute and energetic puppy, Shylah.
What I struggle with at 35, though I can still medically conceive, my desired has changed. I selfishly enjoy my freedom, pouring myself into my work, my heath and luxuriously enjoying my fee time and the peace and quiet. Always wanting children at a young age, I feel, mentally, that I am past my child bearing years. I don’t know if I have the energy to keep up.
My grief was intense when my husband told me he no longer wants children and it rears it’s head in resentment at time, but it’s mostly a simmering pot and not boiling, explosive feelings. As my parents age, my grief manifests inself in the upcoming loneliness (on holidays, as I age myself)
I still feel an aching loss whenever I see young families together.
Recently for me, the feelings of grief have been amplified due to how lonely I’ve felt during all of this-the doctor visits, lab work, the let downs from month to month and at times it has felt like others don’t understand how sad this process can be. It’s difficult not having other friends who have experienced this, who just “get it”. Although my friends all mean well, some of the comments regarding infertility have been surprising. We’ve all heard our fair share of things that sting, but it’s the reality that these friends of mine, who have children (with no struggles to get pregnant) will never go through this kind of loss and pain, therefore, it’s been a challenge to connect with someone who has not experienced this. I’m glad to be able to share experiences on this site because knowing that there are others out there who “get it” makes this process a little less lonely.