Grieving with Children: Understanding Their Emotions

For those who have experienced the loss of a child following the birth of other children, it can be so hard to navigate your own grief while also shepherding the thoughts, feelings, and reactions of your other children. Calli Williams is sharing her experience on helping her children grieve with hope.

---

The day my husband and I received the devastating news that our daughter had passed at 20 weeks gestation, and after being carried out of the doctor’s office and into my car, something hit me. We had to go home, and we had to tell our children. Our children had already filled their little lives with the excitement and expectancy to welcome a new baby sister into their hearts, and now they would have to hear the terrible news that we just heard. The pain seemed to deepen a few hundred degrees at the thought of these little people we cherished so much having to endure the pain that we were experiencing. Not only was child loss uncharted territory for us, but so was watching our children deeply grieve for the first time.

“Then Jacob tore his garments and put sackcloth on his loins and mourned for his son many days. All his sons and all his daughters rose up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted and said, ‘No, I shall go down to Sheol to my son, mourning.’ Thus his father wept for him.”  
-Genesis 37:34-35

I knew we would have to help each other understand all of the emotions we were about to embark upon as a family. It was important to be prepared for the rollercoaster ride of how all of the different personalities in our home would collide on such fragile ground.

Our first born, the people pleaser, would sense the pain that was so deep in my soul immediately. He would be quick to slap a smile on his face, tuck his emotions in his back pocket, and tell me over and over that everything would be okay. He would want to take the role as encourager.

Our second born, the passionate one, would be completely consumed with total despair and would not be able to even function. He would not be able to fully assess the information he was given because his emotions would be on high.

Then our third born, the blissfully innocent one, her little heart would not be able to comprehend the heartache and agony that would surround her in the days to come. She would continue on as if nothing had happened and then act out in times where emotions made her sad or uncomfortable.

I knew that I would have to be intentional with helping them each individually understand exactly what was going on, what it meant, and how it made them feel.

Once we came home and sat down with our children, we told them that their sister had gone to be with Jesus. My husband and I could see their different emotional needs, and we were able help guide them in their grief.

With our people pleaser, we had to encourage him to embrace his pain and not keep it tucked within. We had to initiate all of the conversations revolving around the short life of his baby sister. We had to comfort him, and help him not feel responsible for being the comforter.

With our passionate one, we had to have long and deep conversations where he would ask questions and we would give honest answers. He needed to be guided slowly through each emotion so he could grasp on to more than just the darkness of the situation. This was by far the hardest and most precious part of our family grief journey. The passion he felt was what I personally could most relate to as a mother. To this day, he and I have a special bond that was formed by the longing we share for our precious girl in heaven.

With our blissfully innocent one, we had to help her understand that we are all sad because we wanted her sister so deeply. Showing her that sadness was a natural emotion was a way to help her cope with all of the tears and heartbreak that surrounded her.

In the midst of walking through our children’s grief, my husband and I were also on two totally different trains to the same destination. We had to find the balance of comforting our children, comforting each other while on two different wave lengths, and giving ourselves the grace we so desperately needed. We consciously had to choose a healthy way to balance it all. My tears would come out of nowhere as would my children’s. I knew I needed to quit running away to a quiet place each time the tears came.

My children needed to see my tears so they would be comfortable with their own. They needed to know my heart was broken so they could share with me about their broken hearts. They needed me to be on their level so that we could relate to each other’s pain.

My children found comfort in the times I would talk about their little sister. We chose to forego having them in the delivery room because we did not know what to expect, but they desired to know all of the details:

How big were her hands?
Whose feet did she have?
Did she look like mommy or daddy?

And we covet those precious moments of dreaming about what could have been with her big brothers and sister. It helps them all feel like she was real and she was wanted. It is so vital to help the sibling of a Hope Baby understand that people need time to grieve and God grieves with us!

---

This post originally appeared on the blog on April 18, 2016

---

Calli Williams is a passionate Christ follower. Calli is married to Jared, and has six children: Gavyn, Grant, Bertie, Gwyneth, Blair, who has been in Glory since November 2014, and Brynne, who joined their family in November 2015. She enjoys spending time with her family, reading when she can steal a quiet moment, using her creativity to craft, and splurging on anything chocolate.

Are you a writer who would like to join the blog team? Learn more and apply here.

---

---