lifestyle

FEATURE 

Miscarriage

For couples who lose a baby by miscarriage there are no flowers and no coffin - but it is still a death and they need time to grieve.

At least one in five women experience miscarriage. For most the chances of a subsequent successful pregnancy are good, but however tiny the baby might be, its loss is still great and couples have to go through a grieving process. This can be made worse by the fact that the pregnancy may have been so short that other people did not know a baby had been expected.
How do couples deal with their pain and how can other people help them in their ‘hidden grief ’?

Jacqui

  When I had my first miscarriage, I didn’t even know I was pregnant. David and I had been married for over three years when we decided to consult our doctor. We were concerned
that after nine months of trying I hadn’t become pregnant. The doctor agreed to start investigations, but first took a test to make sure I wasn’t already pregnant, as my period was late. The result was negative - but we discovered that I had been pregnant and my body was already rejecting the baby when the test was taken.
I recovered quickly from the shock. In fact my main reaction was relief - I now knew I could at least get pregnant. I thought: ‘I’ve had my miscarriage now, so it’s over with. It’ll be fine now.’ Three months later our second pregnancy ended in miscarriage. I found out when I had a scan and they couldn’t find a heartbeat. That was the hardest time. You know
the baby’s dead inside you, and there’s a part of you that just wants it taken away. How do you spend that time? You know there’s nothing you can do to harm the baby, so there’s no reason not to do anything. But you can’t plan to do anything. We were in a state of limbo. When we returned to the hospital for a D&C we would have welcomed someone coming to talk to us about it, but nobody did. We were just given some leaflets.
Several months later, after learning that I had endometriosis, I got pregnant again. But 10 weeks into the pregnancy, the scan showed ‘a blighted ovum’; fragments of a baby that was not perfectly formed. Once you’ve had three miscarriages, it’s a completely different ball game. We were told not to try again until we’d had tests, but we had to wait six months before the tests could begin.
During those months of having tests and waiting, we were able to grieve. We grieved in different ways, and often separately, but we didn’t find that it pulled us apart. I missed the babies physically. Their loss dominated my life. When I look back at that time, I was either getting pregnant, being pregnant, or getting over being pregnant.
We got a few inappropriate comments, such as “It’s nature’s way” or “It was probably handicapped”. They really were the wrong things to say. And people kept telling me stories about women who’d had one more miscarriage than me but now had three lovely children. These stories became exasperating. At last the doctors told us they could find no consistent reason for the miscarriages, and gave us the all clear to try again. I found those months while I was waiting to get pregnant again frightening. I didn’t want to assume there’d be a happy ending. Previously I had taken it for granted that we’d have a family, so if we didn’t, I needed to decide what I was going to do with the rest of my life. We talked about
that for some time. I got more and more involved with work, and I was making mental plans of what I’d do if there were no babies. I wanted to deal with it.
When I eventually became pregnant again, it felt different from the other pregnancies. I called my sister and found myself saying, ‘I think this one is all right, and I think it’s a girl.’
David felt optimistic too. But at the eight week scan there was no sign of a baby in the uterus and I needed to have an internal scan. Eventually they located the baby. We felt we were on an emotional roller coaster. The pregnancy was normal but I worried all the time - first that the baby wasn’t moving enough and listening for heartbeats with bated breath - then as it got nearer to the birth I worried that the baby would be stillborn. But our daughter, Lauren Joanna, was born safe and well. We discovered later that the chances of the pregnancy going full-term had been small, due to the high level of antibodies in my blood. Even after three miscarriages, I still don’t feel better equipped to help other women in similar situations. Every person is different, and every situation is different. You can’t prepare yourself for it. I’d been aware of the emotions I might expect to go through - but when it actually happened, there was a naïvety. People ask me what they should say to a friend who has had a miscarriage, and I say, “Don’t minimise it. Allow them to unload their grief if they want to. But most of all, listen.” So often the object of your grief can become dislodged and you resent other people. But you can’t live like that - I had to make a conscious decision not to.
 

David

I sat beside Jacqui while she had the scan. It was obvious the radiographer couldn’t find a heartbeat, although no-one was saying anything. He kept moving the scanner round and
round, but there was no hope on his face. I knew what he was going to say. After that second miscarriage we both struggled to understand what was going on. I searched my mind for reasons as to why this should happen. I felt angry at God, and just plain angry. It lasted for some time. I felt let down - God had created this baby, and it seemed unfair to give with one hand and take away with the other. What was the point of it? What could you learn from that? Retrospectively, I suppose you may be able to help people because you’ve been through it yourself. After the third miscarriage, I felt very low. But men find it difficult to talk to men, so I didn’t talk to anyone. I suppose I dealt with my emotions on a drip-feed basis, bit by bit. I threw myself into my very busy job. Sometimes when people tried to talk to us about what happened, they’d say something insensitive or upsetting. But
how can you blame them? I’ve tried to put myself in their shoes and imagine how I’d deal with it. We all get it wrong sometimes. I’d just say to them, “You’ve put your big welly in
it, haven’t you?” I’m sure there are other things that lie ahead that will be an even greater challenge to our emotions. I don’t think we’ll look back on the miscarriages as the greatest challenge. But they’ll always be there, and they may give the grounding and stability to cope with whatever lies ahead.

“I Don’t Understand”

How can you help someone who has had a miscarriage?
 

When, What and Why

Support Groups

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ISSUES  

Understanding Bereavement

Bereavement and loss are universal. They affect us and everyone we know at some time in our lives.

When Someone Close Dies

Only those who have been bereaved of someone close know how deep the pain goes, how grief comes in waves until it feels like there is no way forward and no way back, and how very real despair can feel. Only the bereaved know that it takes much longer than you expect to adjust to the changes forced upon you, and much, much longer than those around you allow. In my first term at university I had an unexpected visit from my GP. She told me that my mother had died very suddenly. My parents were in Japan at the time and the rest of my family were also abroad. My world changed in an instant. Not only did I lose my mother, my friend and mentor, but ‘life as I had known it’.
Other painful losses since then have confirmed to me that losing someone close changes our world forever. But, although the journey through the ‘valley of the shadow of death’ can be long and painful, it is possible to find new meaning in life, a ‘new normal’ and joy again. Understanding bereavement and loss can help that difficult journey and also help us to help others who are grieving.
Barbie Reynolds

About Grief

  Working through grief is like a journey. It’s a process that doesn’t happen in nice ordered stages so that we can measure how far we are. We all grieve in different ways and it often feels like two steps forward and three steps back. The full impact of what has happened doesn’t hit us all at once - it takes a long time to understand all the implications of our loss.
If we ignore our losses and don’t allow ourselves to grieve, our grief won’t go away. It will be waiting for us when we are ready to face it or we will take it with us into future losses. If we never face it - it will gnaw away inside us and come out in unhelpful ways. Talking about what has happened to us, and about the person who has died, is a healthy way to express our feelings and our pain. Bottling feelings up makes grief worse in the long run.
 

Grief - what is it and what does it do?
• It is a normal God-given process of coming to terms with loss.
• It affects every part of our lives - physically, mentally, emotionally, socially and spiritually.
• People grieve in different ways and it is easy to misjudge and misinterpret grief.
• If we didn’t love and care so much - we wouldn’t hurt so much when a special person dies. Grief is the price we pay for love.
• Realizing the person has really gone and life will never be the same takes a long time, and can cause feelings of panic and disorientation.
• Tears are a healthy way to release painful emotions for both men and women.
• When we are hurting it is normal to feel angry with anyone who appears to have had some part in our pain or loss.
• Grieving takes a lot of courage and we need to give ourselves permission to grieve.
• Grieving takes time and energy.

About our feelings
It’s normal… to feel fear, anger, frustration, as well as deep pain and sadness and even joy at where our loved one is now. But…we need to allow ourselves to feel the pain in order to be healed.

Things That Help and Things That Don’t

Please keep phoning long after our loss BUT try not to come out with platitudes or trite answers about heaven.
Do talk about our lost one by name - we love to hear about them BUT please don’t tell us to count our blessings for those left in our family - we love them dearly but we grieve
for the one who has gone and won’t ever come back.
Please encourage us to be kind to ourselves BUT not to push ourselves to meet other people’s expectations or become overloaded.
Please keep talking to us even if you don’t know what to say BUT try not to give us the answers - sometimes there just aren’t any!
Try to be specific in your offers of help and understand that making decisions can be so hard BUT sometimes we just need you to BE there with us.
Please still invite us to events and parties BUT understand if sometimes we feel we just can’t face it or else feel we need to leave early as it is too painful.
If you share in our sense of loss, please do tell us - it helps to ease our isolation BUT try not to say you know how we feel. The pain each person feels is as unique as each            individual relationship with the one who has died.
Don’t be embarrassed at our tears and be willing to cry with us too BUT know that, in time, we will laugh again and enjoy remembering the fun times we have had together.
Please tell us about your memories of our loved one BUT please don’t avoid us - it hurts so much to see someone cross the road rather than meet us.

However, for those who want to support, all that can sound like a daunting tall order! Those who are bereaved are hurting deeply and their behaviour may at times be irrational. Please don’t take offence if your help is rejected and please be brave enough to try again and stick with us on this long and painful journey of grief that we have to travel for the rest of our lives. Those further along the road have promised us that it won’t always feel this bad and in time we will find a ‘new normal’. Those of us who are bereaved need to come to understand that the world cannot grind to a halt because of us and our situations, although we often wish it would. We too need to learn sensitivity and realise that those with whom we may feel angry or hurt are sometimes the very people who love us the most, who desperately want to help us, but just don’t know how, and seeing us grieving so deeply causes them real pain too.

Compiled by Mike and Kath Coulson

What the Bereaved Say They Have Experienced

Physical sensations: such as numbness, pain, exhaustion, aching arms, shivering, difficulty with breathing and swallowing.
Feelings: such as fear, guilt, helplessness, sense of detachment from life, being out of control, time distortions, depression and loss of energy.
Behaviour: including compulsive eating, loss of memory, change of sleep patterns, hyper-activity, living on adrenaline, inability to handle stress.
Thoughts: (which can sometimes be irrational and obsessive) include - ‘I’m going mad; ‘I wish I could die too.’
‘Will I ever feel joy again?’; ‘What would they be doing now?’; ‘What about the time I was angry with him/her?’;
‘What could I have done differently?’; ‘Was it my fault?’

Practical Suggestions of Ways to Help

Provide a meal rota for a few weeks (or months) for the family.
Remember birthdays and anniversaries - a phone call, a card, or flowers can mean so much.
Never tire of listening to the bereaved talk - often we need to repeat events again and again to secure them in our minds and help us realise the reality of it all.
Listen to the happy memories too - and tell us some of yours.
Offer to help with the planning of the funeral - months are spent planning a wedding, but there are only days to plan a funeral and say goodbye to someone special.
Offer to do ironing, hoovering, shopping or other everyday tasks which may just be too much for the family to cope with.
Suggest or even arrange a break away for the family after the initial turmoil has died down - the pain will still be there but time away together may be beneficial.
Help to remove dead flowers from the house - seeing them beginning to decay can also be distressing.
Offer to accompany members of the family on ‘firsts’ - e.g. trip to the supermarket, church, school, dentist, and be ready to help out if awkward or upsetting situations arise.
Offer to inform dentists, opticians, etc. who may not otherwise hear until an appointment is due.
 

Some definitions

Bereavement = what happens to you when you lose somebody or something important to you (‘reave’ comes from an old English word ‘to rob’).

Grief = all the feelings, thoughts and reactions we have when someone close to us dies or we experience a major loss.

Mourning = what we do in response to our loss. In Western society this is sometimes seen as unhealthy or even morbid. But death and dying are part of life and allowing ourselves
and others to mourn is important for a healthy recovery.

This information is supplied in good faith, but Care for the Family cannot accept responsibility for any advice or recommendations made by other organisations or resources.
© Copyright Care for the Family June 2004. Care for the Family, Garth House, Leon Avenue, Cardiff CF15 7RG. Tel: (029) 2081 0800 Web: www.careforthefamily.org.uk

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HEALTH

Recovering from an eating disorder

Eating disorders are fast becoming one of the most common mental health problems to affect people in the UK, with some studies estimating that as many as one quarter of high risk groups may struggle with some form of disordered eating.1 Many of these cases will resolve over time, and won’t ever be severe enough to require treatment. But what about those people who do become caught up in a serious eating disorder? As more and more people develop problems with their eating, what is the reality of recovery like for them in their future?

I had struggled against anorexia for a long time before I started to work on recovery. I’d have loved to have been free of it much earlier, but the fear I felt kept me from ever being able to look at recovery realistically. Sometimes I would try to eat better and not to worry about what I ate, but I would always end up back where I started. Starting to give up the eating disorder was the hardest thing I ever did. I guess I didn’t know for sure what lay ahead of me – whether I would make it to be truly free or whether I was destined to spend a lifetime hating myself and wishing I could be thinner. In my head, recovery was about returning to where I had been before the eating disorder developed, rather than about going somewhere new – and better.

Now I have been recovered for such a long time I wish I could go back and tell myself years earlier that it was this great N – and this worth it. Standing up to those fears

and challenging what I thought about myself and the world was really hard, but now I feel like I am truly alive. In fact I think I am better off than a lot of my friends who have never had eating disorders but worry about what they eat and what they look like and so on. I am so happy with myself and who I am now – I’ve turned completely
around from where I was ten years ago.

Alison

Is true recovery possible?

This is a question that many people ask about eating disorders. Often sufferers are told that true recovery is very rarely possible, and that the best they should hope for is to get to a stage where their condition has stabilised and they are able to eat well enough to remain basically healthy. The mindset of an eating disorder is perhaps the strongest and most distressing aspect, and often means that sufferers live with a constant thoughts running through their head about what they have eaten, will eat, won’t eat, and whether they might put
on weight as a result. Therefore any version of recovery which means a sufferer retains this pattern of obsessive and anxious thinking is in fact not true recovery.
True recovery is possible. However, it is true that it can be elusive, particularly under the treatment regimes most will encounter, where perhaps as many as three quarters of sufferers
relapse within a year of finishing in-patient treatment.2 The most important thing to understand about recovery is that it is about much more than simply dealing with someone’s weight.
Someone suffering with anorexia who is admitted to hospital for re-feeding and then released some months later at a healthy weight is unlikely to be truly recovered. Recovery involves psychological and social as well as physical change. Treatment centres which address eating disorders holistically therefore have much better long term recovery rates.

Recovery is:

 

• The act, process, duration, or an instance of recovering… (implies a change, from BAD to BETTER!) • A return to a normal condition (so a return to NORMAL eating) • Something gained or restored in recovering (so recovery = GAIN not PAIN!) A long and winding road • Freedom – from shame/guilt, from obsessive thoughts, from the need to achieve • Confidence • Eating and food are no longer an issue • Balance – sometimes eating too much, sometimes too little, but not thrown back into eating disorder • Being different • Letting go/finding a new identity • Being able to enjoy food as a pleasure • Opportunity • Wider perspective • Building up self-esteem and self acceptance

• Able to eat ‘nice’ foods without fear of losing control • Dignity • Restoring perspective • No fear • Relief • Challenge • Being able to see yourself as you really are • Moving on • More fun • No substituted shackle – it’s having no shackles! • Looking to the future • Letting go of the illness • Freedom from being trapped • Accepting yourself • Not being too hard on yourself • Peace of mind • Not being alone • Accepting the things you cannot change • Letting go of the past

• Having new thoughts – not staying trapped or static • Being able to give enough to yourself and as a result the best of yourself to others • Admittance • Being honest and true to yourself and others • Change • Being selfless • Doing the right things • Not taking things out on yourself when things go wrong • Feeling you deserve recovery • Dealing with problems in a more positive way

Recovery is not:

 

• Diets all the time • Being chained to something else • Just gaining weight • Papering over the cracks • Constant denial/keeping busy so you don’t feel bad • Magic wand (it isn’t instant relief ) • Never having any problems ever again • Denial

• Isolation • Dishonesty • Living in and dwelling on the past • Ignoring your ‘inner self ’ • Revisiting previous habits • Living a lie • Harbouring bitterness • Turning anger in on yourself

• Guilt • Starvation • Depending too much on others • Losing responsibility • Fear • Restriction • A hamster wheel of activity

Recovery – climbing the mountain!

You may find the analogy of climbing a mountain helpful when you think about the recovery process:

 

• You start full of ambition and anticipation but also a bit unsure. Perhaps you wonder if you will ever really make it – and the summit seems a long, long way away. • You might be put off or un-nerved by things you see or read about recovery – saying it is not possible, or really, really hard. • So you set off up the path. At first you might feel like you are not getting much higher, even though you are working so hard – there still seems so much of the mountain to climb.

• At times bad weather and other things going on around you can make your climb difficult – the best thing to do in those conditions is to try to keep smiling, remember why you are climbing and keep going! • Sometimes as you carry on climbing, the path stops going uphill. It might even go downhill for a while. This is hard because it feels like the last thing you want to do – use up energy going down not up! But it is all part of the path.

• Sometimes the climb gets really hard and you just need to rest for a while. At those times it is a really good idea to turn around and look behind you at how far you have come. Often the view is much better than you think! • In the end you will get there – and the view is definitely worth the climb!

Two steps forward, one step back

Recovery for me is very much a ‘two steps forward, one step back’ process, but the important thing is that I am finally heading in the right direction, and freedom is where my aim lies. Sometimes it is too hard to keep my eyes on where I am heading and I can slip back into the old thought patterns and the old way of life. So far if I slip off and lose focus for a while I have managed to get back on track slowly. I’ve got a long way to go, but I can always hold on to the fact that the light is there and freedom can ultimately be mine.
I’m learning that it is ok to have bad days; it doesn’t necessarily mean everything’s a disaster. Those are the days I have to tell myself it’s going to get better - tomorrow will be better. I still obsess over food, but it is gradually getting less and controlling me less. I am starting to go out more to places where there will be food, spending more time with my friends and family and missing out on a little less.
There are definitely two sides to recovery. Yes, it is terrifying, it really is - I’m not denying that; learning to eat, risking being kind to yourself? It’s overwhelming and I have days where I just don’t know what to do.
The other side though is that it is worth it. It is the best move you can make, the most important and life-changing decision. Recovery involves taking risks; it takes courage and determination. But as you get better, these things also grow so that you are able to cope with the next stage. I’ve come a long way already and, although I feel there is a long way to go and it’s still really hard, I know in my life now there is much more that is positive. Life is better and improving. Recovery means freedom, liberation, being at peace with yourself.
As you recover you start to feel real happiness - better than any you can get from starving or losing weight because it is real - and it’s amazing as you start feeling it.
 

Maddy

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INSPIRATION 

Happy Ever After

            How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! 1 John 3:1, NIV.

            When I was a little girl in England, my friends and I would dream of being princesses. We would dress up in lacy drapes, make tiaras from kitchen foil, walk about sedately and have elegant tea parties. We imagined that princesses were perfectly happy, having anything and everything they ever wanted. Even when I was older, and I watched several Royal weddings, there was something deep inside me which wished I could dress in all that frothy silk and lace, and look so beautiful

But princesses aren’t happy forever. The tragedy of Princess Diana’s life and death reminded us all that a royal life is not the happy world imagined by romantic little girls swathed in lace.

Soon after Princess Diana’s death, I thought back to her wedding day, a day when I wished a half wish that I could be a part of that lovely world, a wish which now seems so absurd. I thought of the challenges, the misery and the mistakes in her life. The constant harassment she received at the hands of the reporters, the constant gossip in cheap newspapers, problems with the in-laws, and the misery of having an unfaithful husband. I no longer wish to be a princess like Diana.

I thought about her life, and mine. I thought about the richness of baking chocolate chip cookies for my children, and sharing them together. I thought about the fun of stitching and painting presents for my friends, not merely buying them from Harrods. I thought about the satisfaction of making the housekeeping budget reach to the end of the month. I thought about what it means to have a husband who loves and supports me. I thought about the tiny details in my life, which make me feel like the richest person in England. I love the joy of ministering with my husband. It’s wonderful to have a happy, healthy family. Peace of mind is priceless. And the greatest richness of all is knowing that God loves me, and sent His son to die for me, and will one day take me to heaven.

No, I’m mature enough now to know princesses aren’t happy ever after. But I also know that I am a princess in God’s eyes. He is my Father, and He is my King. That makes me a princess today, and a princess forever. A princess who is truly ‘happy ever after.’ A real princess.

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MEN'S PAGE

Living with Serious Illness

When a parent is ill for a long time, family life can be turned upside down.

When a parent is occasionally ill, families and friends usually pull together and help during the short term crisis. But when a parent is ill for weeks, or months - or even years - it becomes a different matter altogether. Long term caring can affect jobs, marriages and finances. Family life can be turned upside down. Friends and family members who might have been able to give their time for a week or two might not be able to commit to months of support and care. So how do people cope? Parents who have faced the situation give their perspective.

A Partner’s Perspective

In early 1990, my wife, Jan, had been away helping her sister with her new baby. When she returned home, she developed flu-like symptoms - aching muscles and joints,
pains in her head, exhaustion after even the most trivial effort, heightened sensitivity to movement and to visual and auditory stimulation. Eventually she went to her GP, who noticed in her notes a series of viral illnesses over a few years. The doctor told her that she was probably suffering from post viral fatigue and, with a bit of rest, she would eventually get better.
That was twelve years ago - long, frustrating and costly years. As a busy mum with three boys (then 10, 9 and 7 - one of whom was hyperactive), and a minister’s wife, rest was not
easy! Before long, Jan was unable to do the usual household tasks. Gradually, other things became too much for her and I found myself carrying the load.
And so it went on - visits to GPs, consultants and specialists, as well as other advice about various therapies and medicines. Nothing helped. Soon we discovered Jan was suffering from Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME), also known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). Unfortunately it was once nicknamed ‘Yuppie Flu’, and as such is still largely misunderstood. It drew a lot of scepticism and opinion. As the months became years, all the physical, mental and spiritual issues of long term illness and care began to arise.
Before long I became ill with symptoms of severe depression and the GP signed me off work. Eventually, I left the ministry and spent a few years of recovery, looking after Jan.
During this time we often felt misunderstood by some in the church, who could not cope when the healing didn’t come. However, many friends supported us through that time.

The impact of long term illness                                                                                                                                                                                                        Twelve years later, there are many things we can reflect on, both as patient and carer. Some of these things apply to all those who suffer from a long term illness. Some apply especially to CFS sufferers.

Exclusion
With long term illness comes exclusion. The things you used to do, you can no longer do. Your world shrinks. Household tasks become exhausting and decisions hard to make. Places
with stairs and slopes are ‘no go areas’.

Isolation
With exclusion comes isolation. You do not have the strength to belong any more. Friendships drift and even families become distanced, through misunderstanding and helplessness. This is especially so with CFS which is very inconsistent. One day you can feel very ill and hardly able to move, yet the next day, you feel fairly well. Your home slowly becomes your world.

Financial hardship
As a homemaker, Jan was not entitled to incapacity benefit and received no other benefits in twelve years! Financial hardship isolates you even more. We lost our ‘tied’ accommodation which came with my job, as well as the income from the church. Fortunately, due to a health insurance policy that paid up wonderfully when I became ill, and the generosity of friends and relatives, we became first time buyers at the age of 40!

Emotional roller coaster
The inconsistent nature of CFS makes it particularly difficult. Guilt is an ever-present factor because you are ill and causing suffering to your family, and then because sometimes you feel well and people see you out and about! As a carer, you see your loved one’s life deteriorate and, in turn, your life becomes unpredictable and limited. It is no surprise that marriages of the long term chronically sick break down.

Now and in the Future
We have seen many wonderful moments of provision and blessing that, from our perspective, could only have come from God. The prayer support and practical help of the church has been the hands, feet and heart of Jesus, reminding us of his love and encouraging us when the going gets tough.
I am now back in full-time ministry, the boys are at university and beyond and Jan still suffers from CFS. We still look forward to healing, but have learned to meet the challenges of our lives within the boundaries that we have been given. There are still many painful and tearful days as well as occasional ones of joy. Within these boundaries we know something of God’s love and faithfulness, despite the many unanswered questions.
Nick

How to Help

• Never assume what can or can’t be done by the one who is ill. The ‘does she take sugar?’ approach is hurtful.
• When offering practical help, suggest something specific. ‘Let me know if you need help’ is not enough.
• When organising rotas of help and support, get the balance right between ‘supporting’ and ‘taking over’. Serious illness reduces a person’s control over their own life, so aim to bring some of that control back, not remove it entirely.
• Consider what special role or jobs the ill person previously made their own within the family. How can you help them continue, or fill the gap?
• Give plenty of time to listen. Find practical ways to show you have understood anxieties expressed, perhaps by investigating benefits or special assistance which might be available.
• Think about the spouse or older parents - do they get a break from caring?
• Consider that friendship with those who are seriously ill is two way. You may help them practically and emotionally, but they may give much to you in return, through their life perspective.
 

Dad on Hold?

When Mother is Sick
When each of my two children were born I looked down at their pink wrinkled faces in the knowledge that I was their Mum, that I would always love them, care for them and
protect them, to the best of my ability. It seemed a certainty, a right, a privilege. When, earlier this year, I was diagnosed with an advanced aggressive cancer, everything changed. The certainty of my care was shaken. The right to be there for them was suddenly removed and the privilege of mothering them grew to incredible proportions.
Now I have to consider that although there is the strong possibility that I will carry on mothering them, that I will be there for them in six months, two years, ten years time,
there is an equally strong possibility that I will not. That I will die as my son starts secondary school and my daughter moves further into her teenage years. That I won’t be around
just at the time when, in many ways, they will need me most, leaving my husband, family and friends to guide them through the difficult teenage years without me.
Suddenly I realise that the ‘rights’ and ‘certainties’ of motherhood were probably never there anyway - just the privileges and responsibilities. It is as if ‘normal motherhood’, if there is such a thing, is a plan A, but I have to find Plan B: the insurance back up, the contingency plan. But Plan B is impossible to find because there is no insurance for a mother’s love. All I can do is build in them the resources, the skills, the faith, the love and simple wisdom they will need to live. With or without me. Love them and laugh with them now in the hope that I can go on loving and laughing with them. For now at least, I am not afraid of the cancer. I am not afraid of death. I know that all of us, as a family, are in the palm of God’s hand. He knows what I am afraid of. It’s when, in my imagination, I can hear the children calling for me in the distance just as they have many times over the past thirteen
years. Their calling ‘Mum!’ has become like a familiar tune with many variations. Calling for attention, calling for help, calling to ask if their tea is ready or to share a joke. But in this dream they keep calling. Their cries become more and more desperate, wondering why I am not responding. But I can’t get there. Somebody else has to go and comfort them and
tell them that Mum can’t come, until they understand that Mum never will come. Then there is the empty, overwhelming feeling that breaks my heart that I have let them down. How would I have responded as I held those two newborns if somebody had told me about that dream? Would I have handed them back? Said I’d changed my mind? Demanded a re-write of the story? No. Because we are called to mother, whatever the circumstances. We only have to watch the news to understand how many are mothering against the odds at the
risk of great pain. I don’t think the experience of the recent months has made me value the children more or take them less for granted as might be expected. Perhaps I was already aware of the brevity of their childhood. But it has made me realise that there is a hidden quality of love enveloped in difficult circumstances, of which only a few will have a glimpse. A kind of velvet lining to a broken vessel which infuses the day-to-day with something special. Mothering is all about facing the pain and mothering anyway. Loving anyway, laughing anyway. And thankfully there is more than enough to laugh at. I still look down at their pink wrinkled faces when they’re giggling. In all the sadness and seriousness of the issues we’re facing, the giggles never stop. Who would want them to?
Wendy
From The Sixty Minute Mother by Rob Parsons (Hodder and Stoughton, 2000) When a Mother is Sick
 

How to Help a Friend with Cancer
• Find out all you can about what your friend is facing - your interest will show you care.
• Ask them how they are feeling about the diagnosis. Respect their wish to talk all day or not at all.
• Understand the emotional swings that go with cancer. Learn to cry with those who cry, and laugh with those who laugh. Take your cue from them.
• Cancer treatment can be exhausting and debilitating. Discover practical ways you can help and remember the whole family’s needs.
• Chemotherapy and radiotherapy take their toll on physical appearance. Find ways of helping your friend feel attractive. Buy a present – perhaps a pretty scarf or fun baseball cap to cover hair loss, or bath oils or aftershave to make up for the ‘chemo smell’.
• Understand that it costs to enter into a deeper friendship with someone who has cancer. You may find yourself giving a lot of time and emotional energy and discussing difficult issues including death. Your commitment is vital, and the rewards in terms of deeper friendship could be priceless.
• Above all, bring hope, friendship, understanding, acceptance and humour.

What about the Children?

Support Groups and Helplines

LIFESTYLE

The end of a marriage

No one ever expects to be divorced or separated, and when it happens nothing can prepare you for the pain and devastation it causes.
Divorce is one of the most painful experiences you can go through because it impacts every aspect of your life. In addition to the rejection and sense of loss, there is the burden of shame and failure. Your past and your future seem to be wiped out in one blow, and functioning in the present demands every ounce of your energy and focus. So how do you cope?

Shattered dreams.

My marriage was filled with tension from the beginning. My husband was in the defence force which took him away for two or three weeks at a time and then he would come back to suburban life. It was quite difficult for him to adapt, I think. I was working and very involved in the church. We hadn’t managed to conceive which I found hard to cope with as the biological clock was ticking and he would not consider adoption. Eventually we effectively led two separate lives. Then we moved to another area where he started a new job and we had a much happier time for a couple of years. I felt that things were coming right and was hoping that we were going to be able to start a family. But one night my husband came home and said he was moving out. Initially I was stunned, and then I started questioning him and asking what was wrong, what had happened.

I found out that he had become close to a married woman we were friends with at church. She and my husband both enjoyed keeping fit and had been running together. I found out too that while I was at work they had been meeting in my house. My initial shock turned into anger then.

The divorce proceedings were very quick. I felt very awkward telling a solicitor, a stranger, all about my private life and I didn’t always feel that he was on my side. But it was all over within four months of my husband moving out. Three weeks after that he had married this woman, who had also divorced her husband, so it had all been planned by them. A friend of mine said that at least I had everything happen all at once - I’d gone through the divorce and the remarriage of my partner and now I could move on. But it wasn’t that simple. 

Learning to cope

I don’t know how you really cope with something like this especially as I viewed marriage as a lifetime commitment. You have to learn to cope just by getting through each day at a time. I kept working because I knew I had to support myself. And my friends were very good helping me with practical things and just letting me talk and talk, to rattle on as you do. But there was a long period of time when I was just completely and utterly stunned and couldn’t feel anything. However my faith and the support of my friends kept me going. I tried to make sense of why everything had happened. What had I done? What hadn’t I done? I lost all my self-confidence and self-esteem and became depressed trying to cope with my loneliness. Consequently I ended up having some counselling. I really wrestled with being a single woman again and of being denied the opportunity to have children, as I so badly wanted to have a family of my own.

Liz

Starting again

We had been married 13 years when I found that I just couldn’t take any more of my wife’s behaviour. I had been running my own business, trying to build a house, facing financial difficulties and undergoing cancer treatment, yet my wife only seemed to be concerned with going on jaunts overseas to see art exhibitions. She was an artist and when she did well from commissions, she kept the money to herself instead of helping to pay our mortgage. Then we decided to sell our house and get something smaller. We made a good profit but instead of using it as a buffer for the future, my wife decided to once again travel alone. This time while she was away I tried to call her to discuss a minor matter. The friends she was staying with said that she was unavailable and wouldn’t give me a contact number for her. When she returned I said that I was moving out. She didn’t seem too distressed. I found out later that a few weeks after I left, a man came from overseas and moved in with her. What next? I had been living with such uncertainty, dishonesty and distrust for such a long time that the anger had been welling inside me. I told my wife that she could keep the house if we would agree not to have anything more to do with each other. I felt at this point that getting away was a positive move, and I had a tremendous sense of relief. But I had nothing except my suitcase.
Many of our friends cut me off. I didn’t want to badmouth my wife and they assumed that I had just abandoned her. My mother had been through a divorce herself but she didn’t give me much emotional support and I had just a couple of friends who had been through divorce who helped me get back on my feet. I spent a lot of time just working very, very hard. Eventually I found a new church where they had a men’s group. Some of these guys had been through divorces and for the first time I could be completely open. I was able to start to trust people again as I talked through what had happened. But I think men generally find it very difficult to discuss these things; particularly British men who are told to have a stiff upper lip and guard their feelings. If they chat at all it is at the pub where things will be joked about and that undermines the deep emotions that are really being felt.

David

Dealing with emotions 

Anger
• Acknowledge and accept your anger.
• Identify the reason - am I feeling hurt, frustrated or threatened?
• Take steps to deal with the cause or get help to talk about it.
• Decide on a strategy to stay in control for when your anger is triggered.
• Do not seek ways of taking revenge: it will not bring healing for you and will cause more damage.
• Don’t suppress your anger. Internalised anger is not resolved anger. It must be faced and managed; otherwise it will manifest in health problems like headaches and will
  cause depression.
• Find a safe outlet for your anger such as kneading bread, beating a punch bag or pillow, or throwing glass bottles into the bottle bank and hearing them smash
• Talk to a trusted friend or a counsellor.
• Try writing down your feelings. Using words to express how you feel is better than allowing your anger to be acted out. You might like to write a letter to someone you are angry      with - but don’t send it. Instead burn it, and allow your feelings to go up in smoke.
• Channel any anger towards your own healing, growth and learning; become determined to be a happier and stronger person.
• Find projects you can take up which will help you vent your anger healthily - joining a health club, DIY jobs, take up a new hobby.
• When you are ready, forgive the people who hurt you.

Loneliness
• Get involved in someone else’s life - invite friends round, share meals.
• Look at the way you live - does it encourage loneliness? If so, change. Don’t blame others for your loneliness.
• Visit others who are in need: elderly, sick or handicapped
• Join a group of volunteers.
• Take up a hobby or join a class.
• Don’t stifle the issue with drugs, alcohol, overeating or oversleeping.
• Increase your contacts, by writing, phoning or talking to new people.
• Appreciate yourself.
• Have an encouraging book or music near your bed for lonely times at night.
• Plan your time alone. Avoid feeling down on a Friday night or Bank Holiday by planning in a treat for yourself - rent a
  film and watch it with your favourite snacks, visit friends or make a trip to a gallery or museum.
• Celebrate your achievements each day, no matter how trivial.
• Live one day at a time.

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