My First Time Returning to Work After Loss

I sat in my car, trying to practice the deep breaths I knew I needed to take. I rolled some essential oils on my wrists, touched my Isaac necklace, and thumbed through my purse to be sure the pictures of my baby were still there. I hesitated. I cringed. I wanted to drive away. Instead, I opened the car door, stepped out, stood still and straight, and walked unsteadily towards my office building, pep-talking myself each step of the way.

Thoughts and memories of the baby announcement at work, along with the smiles and well-wishes, flooded my mind as I climbed the stairs. I walked in the door and went straight to my desk. I remember feeling pretty awful that first day. I planned to only go in for a few hours, and I honestly think that I needed to prove to myself that I could indeed do just that. 

As soon as I got in the office, I wanted to leave. I remember standing awkwardly in the break room at one point when a colleague asked me point blank if I needed a hug. I said yes, stoically. I was grateful for that moment of genuine human interaction. Then my boss came, walked straight towards me, and hugged me, tearing up while we both stood in the middle of our co-working space. It was a little awkward, but I didn’t care. I just wanted the hugs, the acknowledgement, the reminders that people didn’t forget I was pregnant and had a baby—a baby who died.

I carefully placed a picture of my son, Isaac, on my cubicle wall, the one of my husband holding him so carefully in his hands. I think I stared at my computer screen for a few hours, nervously glancing out the window, and took a few long walks around the block while trying to breathe, reciting parts of Psalm 121 desperately, “I lift up my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” It was a struggle to get through that day. I had made sure I wore water-proof mascara, but even then I’m sure I looked weary in more ways than one.

I’m a list person. In the months after we lost Isaac, my lists for the day often included basic things like getting out of bed, getting dressed for the day, brushing my teeth, leaving the house, journaling, or eating something. These things felt hard. My lists for work were also basic, and hard in their own way. Here are a few specific things that helped me face that major first of returning to work. 

1. I brought pictures of Isaac with me and asked others if they would like to see them. I specifically remember a few colleagues and friends who wanted to know about my birth story—about Isaac—but were too scared to ask. So, my blunt and direct way of saying, “I need you to know this and see my son,” was somehow helpful to all of us.
   
2. I found a few safe people to connect with regularly who I could email, call, text, or pull aside in the hallway for an encouragement or reminder. I asked these three people to be my wingmen and women, and they were 100% game to support me and “rescue me” when needed. It helped to know that I could reach out to people at the drop of a hat, and I felt loved by God through these colleagues.
   
3. Going out to coffee—lots and lots of coffee—with colleagues and friends, just to get away from work and connect was helpful. We would either sit in silence, talk, or find an awkward combination of the two.
   
4. Knowing I was going to work helped me get out of bed. Did I care about the work I was doing? No, not really. Did it help to do something else? Yes, sometimes. Did I do a decent job? Probably. Although I’m sure it was subpar while living in the thick of my grief.
   
5. I sent an email to my closest co-workers and the VPs I was working on projects for, informing them that although I was back at work, I was still grieving and needed extra grace. I just put it out there, and that helped me ease back in. My boss also totally had my back and promised that he would go to bat for me for whenever I needed. 
   
6. I left work early each week for therapy, and I didn’t apologize for that. It was needed, and I chose not to feel guilty for how I was trying to take care of myself in grief. 

Going back to work was hard. However, I also felt grateful because I was struggling with significant depression and anxiety, grief and loss, and pain unknown to me before my son was born, and the thought of being alone at home with an empty baby room was frankly unbearable. Returning to work reminded me that I was part of something bigger than myself. It helped me stay connected to others in big and small ways. Did I want to be at home on maternity leave with my baby? Yes. Was I wrecked with all kinds of intense emotions about that not being my reality? Yes. Did God show up and provide for me in my return to work? Yes.

Initially, no one I knew at work or outside of work had been through what we had endured with the loss of our son. Yet, over time, people came out of the woodwork, sharing their stories of loss or the stories of friends who had also experienced baby loss. I found an unexpected comfort in being near others who could relate, or if they couldn’t, knowing that they wanted to because they cared about me, and therefore cared about my precious baby.

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Lauren is a part-time working mama to Isaac and two babies in heaven as well as her boys Samuel and Nathanael at home in Colorado. She is a mental health therapist, recovering perfectionist, and truth be told, often feels overwhelmed as she tries again and again to reorient herself to live life as God intended. Lauren loves all things that bring out a deep belly laugh and tears to her eyes, really (good) hot coffee, Kansas sunsets, trail runs, and being with others who can share in both the joys and sorrows of life. 

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