My youngest daughter drowned yesterday, and is currently in hospital in her first 24 hours in ICU.
As I sit on my own, fielding messages and phone calls, I cannot help but be overwhelmed by it all. Not the situation itself, but all the ‘admin’ that comes with it. Fielding calls and responding to ‘how is she doing’ to every private message is comforting, but draining.
I’ve been here before, on this emotional rollercoaster of wanting to keep people updated, but also not wanting to answer at all.
When my first born was in hospital for a month last year, I struggled with the same.
From our numerous hospital visits with our girls, I’ve come to learn two things:
1. It’s okay to not feel.
2. It’s okay to feel.
Often times, people’s comments make me feel as if it’s not okay to not break down at the first blow. I’m the ‘need time to process’ type, so my first reactions are usually generally very calm and relaxed, maybe even jovial. But as the processing starts and reality sets in, my knees begin to crumble and give way and my aching heart overflows with tears. In these moments, I am told to keep strong, to be strong, to not let it get me down.
When my eldest was first admitted to hospital, I cried from the get go, and was advised to be strong. My butterfly was barely a week old at the time, and the thought of losing her/her having some serious infection was super scary. To be told in those moments to remain strong was a challenge, so too was keeping EVERYONE updated on her progress.
What I’ve taken from these experiences is to be more conscious of what I say in my every day interactions with other, especially those in difficulty.
So in stead of asking “what’s wrong with your child?”, I ask “Why is your child in hospital?”. Instead of “stay strong” or “allow yourself to cry”, I encourage parents to embrace whatever emotion they’re feeling in that moment, advertorial it as a natural part of their process and not to worry about what others might say.
I’ve also learnt that sometimes waiting for an update from the family is better than constantly requesting one. It’s draining on the family and takes them ‘away’ from those around them.
There’s no blanket right or wrong way to respond in challenging situations, because what helps me may not help the next person, and what applies to most may not apply to everyone, but these realizations were so important for me to see that how I was responding to others may have been hurtful, even though it was well intended.
I still struggle with finding the right words when speaking to someone experiencing difficulty, but my personal experiences has been a tremendous help in trying to navigate these trying times.
