7 Phases of Grief in Child Loss
Contrary to popular suggestion, the original framework of grief from Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was not necessarily for loss, but for terminally ill patients. Also any suggestion that they are sequential stages is definitely not true - for me, they overlap constantly.
So this list is one that I learned from Ted Wiard at Golden Willow Retreat that helped me feel more at peace with each emotion - and have a roadmap for healing and building meaning from my baby’s death. Below you will find my paraphrasing and how it has affected us.
The (Updated) Seven Phases of Grief
Insulation
Protest
Cognitive Construct
Sad Surrender
Acknowledgement of the Fact
Unknown
Relocation
INSULATION - Rather than denial
This is the protection your mind offers you to process the emotion when you can. The goal is not to hide, but also not to drown.
When I first started, I felt like by not being in the pain, I was abandoning my baby - that insulating a little bit was betraying her. Now I use it to allow myself to replenish my strength.
My husband is much better at this than I am. He can go to work and give himself a break from the pain.
Protest - Rather than anger
Anger is an important emotion, but some of us shy from it. Describing it as protest aligns the anger to the particulars of our loss.
For me, there has been so much rage - Why her? Why us? So describing it as protest feels like saying - “This is not right. I’m not just mad - this is an injustice.”
“Our job is to love and nurture our children - we can’t always protect them.”
Cognitive construct - Rather than bargaining
This one is all about the fantasy that you want to live in. We believe that we are all guaranteed 80ish years on this earth - that the plans we made for this summer are definitely going to happen, that all kids will live to go to second grade. Unfortunately, the only thing that is for sure is today, right now, and losing your baby is the worst possible way to really understand this because it feels so alien to what you expect.
For me, this phase has been why my brain keeps trying to figure out what I could have done to protect her or save her: that as a parent if I didn't protect her, I basically killed her. This one is natural but lead me down a terrible rabbit hole of mind overload that at some point I had to resolve.
I didn’t kill my baby. It was a horrible tragedy, a perfect storm of her immune system and three viruses at the same time. But for those who lost children in accidents, it also helped me to hear that our job is to love and nurture out children - we can’t always protect them.
Sad surrender - Rather than depression
You can be (so) sad without sinking into depression. I have sunk into a depression - I can feel the lack of energy and interest in my regular life - but I am doing everything I can to move past it.
The week after Tepley died, I bounced between disbelief, rage, and blaming myself. Our house was full of people (and food) for a week, so I wailed and raged usually to a group of people. After they all left, I couldn’t eat. I didn’t want to live, so even though I tried to eat, I lost 20 pounds in a few weeks.
I asked my other friends who had lost children (whom I had been introduced to) what they did, and they had been able to rely on prayer and just releasing through crying.
But after a few weeks of wasting away, my family sent me to a psychiatrist and I started taking medication - one more fast-acting and one more long-term. For me, medication has been a godsend so that I would survive.
Acknowledgement of the fact- Rather than acceptance
There is nothing about losing your child that’s okay - so the word acceptance seems wrong. That said, acknowledging that it happened is important for healing - the most important part of which is rebuilding a (meta-physical) relationship with your baby.
After several months, I still can’t believe that she’s gone - so I try to remind myself that we are in a different relationship but I can always talk to her and she sends me signs (constantly).
Unknown - Added From the ‘Original Five’
Unknown is the spiritual dimension, including forgiveness, grace, spirituality, healing, and transformation. We can feel that a catastrophic loss is not just a physical loss with profound emotional impact, but that this is a deep wound of the spirit.
For me, losing my baby has set me on a very deep, rich spiritual journey because I honestly don’t know how else to survive. The pain is in my soul, so it feels like the healing must be there also.
I have built a daily and weekly spiritual practice: reading spiritual texts and books including the Bible, yoga, meditate, do prayer ties with my husband, and go to church every week.
Almost all my jewelry is Tepley-related (my blueberry necklace, my bracelet with her name that I never take off, et al.), so that when I touch it, I remind both of us that we are always together.
I have also done reiki and visited a shaman, which I highly recommend.
Relocation - Added From the ‘Original Five’
Relocation is one of the phases I spend the most time in now, including service, building passion, and moving from physical to metaphysical relationships. This is the phase about making meaning out of this terrible loss.
For me, it was important to be clear that making meaning in no way suggests that this is ‘good’ that it happened or that God killed my child rather than another child for some reason. But my spiritual journey is helping me see the light at the end of the tunnel - a world where the depth of my love for Tepley allows me to live a richer life.