My answer to this is heavy, so I should add a content warning for child death, but I also think my answer may provide some comfort to others, so I share it in spite of its heaviness:
I feel grief with great intensity. That's probably why I'm a pacifist leftist. Every human being contains whole universes of possibility; their death marks the end of all of those universes. It's unbearable. I have never stopped grieving anyone I have ever lost.
So when I started having kids, I knew that I would never be able to cope with the worst. And I suppose I thought this fact would somehow shield me.
Except that when I was about six months pregnant, an ultrasound revealed that my daughter would not live long past birth. It felt truly like a nightmare. I kept waiting to wake up, but I never did. I never saw this possibility coming. I never thought I could survive being one of those women.
I survived. She did not. And I became one of those women. She did not die so I could be a better person, and I would still do anything to have her healthy and back. But I have made the most of it insofar as I have used her life as an inspiration to give more and do more in her honor. We can survive more than we realize, because we have to. The terrible things that happen to us can make us more sensitive to the suffering of others, if we allow ourselves to feel our own pain and use it as a way to connect to the pain of others.
Grief cracks you open. It's supposed to, because that's the only way you can re-emerge as something better. Let it do its softening work to make you better, then go make the world better.
Somewhere out there--many somewheres out there--there are mothers getting devastating news about their own children. Maybe some of them are reading here. I want them to know that the world will never be the same. They will never be the same. But there is a path forward.
Good lord, that is simultaneously heavy and eloquent. I am so sorry you have had to endure this experience. And I am also thankful that you have the perspective you have on it and you were willing to share it.
Thank you for sharing your story, Zawn. You not only survived something so unspeakable and tragic, you are helping other women by telling your story. So sorry for your loss.
I got laid off at 14w pregnant from Google. I had a horrible prenatal mental health journey and horrible health ramifications from switching ins companies at the top of my third trimester (when NY’s WARN notice ended and I was cut loose from the pay roll). I have since created an online community for 500+ other women laid off pregnant or on leave and we now have nonprofit status. What was driving me was this feeling that I was suffering in silence — with a blown up career — and surely there were others like me who were also suffering in silence. And if we could connect, we could build a structure of support that was lacking in our government and workplace laws/infrastructure/systems. We’d love to have you chat with us, Shannon, because what we’d like to do next is lobby. I think we are all fire starters 🔥
I never saw my young adult child's seizures coming. They do not run in the family. They're not epilepsy-related. They are still a mystery; and you know what? Neurologists are wonderful, however there is more they still don't know than they do know.
So...I drove a 16' ft moving truck across Death Valley two weeks ago to move them back in with me. So far, so good. They are currently stable, safe, fed nourishing food, and sleeping well. Their panic attacks have diminished somewhat.
I am thankful to have family and friends' support and for my health insurance that will cover them (at least some!) and to make progress with a diagnosis and treatment plan.
I remain defiantly optimistic and determined to get to a win-win.
I've never been the smartest person in the room, I mean never. But with humility, effort, and being stronger than I thought I was, I managed to earn an advanced degree, secure a career as an actuary, survive painful losses/endings, and be the one critical advocate for my parents during their multi-year dementia journeys. Having genuine and likable attributes has value in life.
I didn't see my breakup and subsequent divorce coming from my ex. We had our usual problems, but I considered them within the realm of what married couples deal with. It really came out of the blue: boom, I'm done, no talking about it, no marital counseling, nothing.
I had to make some quick decisions, but the best one I made was to move to the Washington, DC area, where I had always wanted to live since I visited DC as a teenager and visited all the usual government and tourist sites. (20 years later, I am no longer sure I want to be here, but that doesn't change the positive things that have happened to me in that time.)
The funny thing is that we had planned to move here together, and had already started looking for places to live, near his sister who lives in the area. He liked one apartment complex, I liked another, and when I decided to move here, I picked the one I liked most. I ended up living there for eight years. And then I met my beloved, and we just celebrated our 12th anniversary together.
I put off having children until after I finished graduate school. I was 31 at the time. I figured I’d have no trouble getting pregnant, as I’m one of 5 children, & my 3 sisters all had kids. I was so wrong. I suffered 3 miscarriages, had unsuccessful fertility treatments, all while my sisters, several good friends, & my boss were pregnant & having babies. I felt like I was being avoided, while people I loved offered platitudes like, “A watched pot never boils”, & “You can always adopt”. It took a toll on my marriage. Shortly after it ended, my ex husband married and had two kids. I’m retired now, but I spent much of my career as a therapist working with special needs kids. I often wondered if I could handle some of these poor kids 24/7. As rewarding as the work was, it was also exhausting & thankless at times.
And frankly, in this insane country, I am grateful I have no kids or grandkids. I don’t have the emotional or physical constitution to handle the worrying I’d be doing for them.
Never could have anticipated dealing with a global pandemic, starting when I was in my first trimester of my first pregnancy. It meant that all of my hopes for a "normal" pregnancy, birth, and newborn phase went out the window. It meant my anxiety reaching an all-time high trying to protect myself and my newborn against a disease that was so rampant and dangerous. It meant that every. single. piece of advice I was given regarding parenting or pregnancy was non-applicable because they all assumed being able to exist in the world pre-pandemic. It sucked, was devastating, and I know I'm not alone in feeling the loss for something that is so pivotal. I still sometimes mourn for what could have/would have/should have been. But these low points always end with me recognizing things that honestly could not have happened without the pandemic.
In the before times, I would have had to go into work every day, all day, up until I gave birth. Instead I was able to wear comfortable clothes to fit my growing belly and work from my own home. In the before times, I would have been expected to go back to work following my maternity leave, but instead I got the silver lining of being able to stay home with my baby while still working remotely for a whole 2.5 years. In the before times there would have been more social obligations, more sharing of my baby, more boundaries that would have been harder to uphold. As it was, I got SO much time to revel in her smallness and newness and have her all to myself.
It was incredibly hard, but the silver linings I've found in the experience have somehow made it worth the struggle.
I love this way of looking at the forced nature of the pandemic. And I'm sure the time at home with your baby, while hard at times, was a beautiful spot in your life.
Yes, absolutely! What was forced upon me for my first actually gave me the opportunity to also work remotely while my second born is home. I've had the unforeseen luxury of working remotely while never missing a moment of their growth; first steps, first words, meals together... It's definitely hard at times! But parenthood would have always been hard, and I think we just have to choose which difficult path we prefer.
I'm a stroke survivor. I suffered a cervical artery dissection at age 36, and I had no preexisting conditions or symptoms before it struck. Luckily I got help in time and made a full recovery. This near-death experience convinced me to use my advocacy skills to volunteer with the American Heart Association Leaders of Impact campaign, through which I raised $1,000 for the cause and shared my story with AHA supporters. Ever since, I've amplified stroke awareness when and where I can. Remember FAST - Face (drooping), Arms (weakness), Speech (difficulty), and Time (to call emergency services). The life you save could be your own.
Fantastic question. Biggest one was realizing I wanted to be a mom and my journey to becoming one at 40. Then having an 18 month old when the global pandemic hit. Also being super ill during the first trimester of my pregnancy. Second was having a child that I am still learning how to help as anxiety and potential ND unveiled my own neurodivergence and realizing my whole life has been shaped by this thing I didn’t even know existed. Becoming a mom at 40 and then having it reveal some truly life changing truths while it is also literally changing your life was/is big. I’m still looking for the silver lining but I will say it’s making me look at myself in different ways. Also realizing through having a child how unhealthy my own upbringing was and working every darn day to break cycles is something I take pride in, even when I inevitably don’t get it perfect.
I've had quite a few, and they always serve as reminders of my own resilience.
One was a diagnosis of Crohn's disease at the age of 28. After over a year of hell, I got it under control and overhauled my lifestyle (through better nutrition, more body movement, stress reduction, more quality sleep) and was able to come off all the hard core drugs I had to take to feel normal again and was able to go into complete remission (something not common with Crohn's).
The second was watching both my parents battle cancer at the same time and losing one of them to it when I was only 33 years old (and dad was only 58).
The third was having a traumatic miscarriage at 35 and deciding not to have children. My husband has his own pretty big health conditions and there was a chance he could pass it along to a child. And I wasn't prepared to take on caring for him and a child. So we made the decision not to have children. And it turns out we love our lives without them.
Through all of it, I've become more grateful for (and don't take for granted) when I feel good and am in good health. I've developed self-compassion for the times when things are tough and I'm not sure how I'll get through. I've learned to sit in the muck without judgment, and I've learned to get comfortable being uncomfortable (even though I still hate it).
These moments can be profound learning experiences if we take the time to learn from them.
I had my bladder removed three years ago this weekend due to a recurrence of highly aggressive bladder cancer. My doctor recommended the Indiana Pouch “diversion” which I have adjusted to surprisingly well. I wasn’t meeting people in person or in my Zoom support groups with this same new normal as me. We empty a new bladder built from our large intestine with a catheter through an abdominal stoma every few hours - the human body is freakin’ amazing! ! So, I started the first national Indiana Pouch support group. I thought because I had pretty good facilitation skills in corporate America it would be pretty easy. Wow is leading a Support Group for people with cancer challenging! Put my ego in place 😀. But it fills me with joy, hope and love from the amazing friends I’ve made. It’s a gift I gave more to myself than others.
My answer to this is heavy, so I should add a content warning for child death, but I also think my answer may provide some comfort to others, so I share it in spite of its heaviness:
I feel grief with great intensity. That's probably why I'm a pacifist leftist. Every human being contains whole universes of possibility; their death marks the end of all of those universes. It's unbearable. I have never stopped grieving anyone I have ever lost.
So when I started having kids, I knew that I would never be able to cope with the worst. And I suppose I thought this fact would somehow shield me.
Except that when I was about six months pregnant, an ultrasound revealed that my daughter would not live long past birth. It felt truly like a nightmare. I kept waiting to wake up, but I never did. I never saw this possibility coming. I never thought I could survive being one of those women.
I survived. She did not. And I became one of those women. She did not die so I could be a better person, and I would still do anything to have her healthy and back. But I have made the most of it insofar as I have used her life as an inspiration to give more and do more in her honor. We can survive more than we realize, because we have to. The terrible things that happen to us can make us more sensitive to the suffering of others, if we allow ourselves to feel our own pain and use it as a way to connect to the pain of others.
Grief cracks you open. It's supposed to, because that's the only way you can re-emerge as something better. Let it do its softening work to make you better, then go make the world better.
Somewhere out there--many somewheres out there--there are mothers getting devastating news about their own children. Maybe some of them are reading here. I want them to know that the world will never be the same. They will never be the same. But there is a path forward.
I am so, so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your story with us. And thank you for shining a light forward.
Good lord, that is simultaneously heavy and eloquent. I am so sorry you have had to endure this experience. And I am also thankful that you have the perspective you have on it and you were willing to share it.
so sorry for your loss :((
Thank you for sharing your story, Zawn. You not only survived something so unspeakable and tragic, you are helping other women by telling your story. So sorry for your loss.
I got laid off at 14w pregnant from Google. I had a horrible prenatal mental health journey and horrible health ramifications from switching ins companies at the top of my third trimester (when NY’s WARN notice ended and I was cut loose from the pay roll). I have since created an online community for 500+ other women laid off pregnant or on leave and we now have nonprofit status. What was driving me was this feeling that I was suffering in silence — with a blown up career — and surely there were others like me who were also suffering in silence. And if we could connect, we could build a structure of support that was lacking in our government and workplace laws/infrastructure/systems. We’d love to have you chat with us, Shannon, because what we’d like to do next is lobby. I think we are all fire starters 🔥
You are definitely a firestarter! This is amazing what you've been able to build 👏
I never saw my young adult child's seizures coming. They do not run in the family. They're not epilepsy-related. They are still a mystery; and you know what? Neurologists are wonderful, however there is more they still don't know than they do know.
So...I drove a 16' ft moving truck across Death Valley two weeks ago to move them back in with me. So far, so good. They are currently stable, safe, fed nourishing food, and sleeping well. Their panic attacks have diminished somewhat.
I am thankful to have family and friends' support and for my health insurance that will cover them (at least some!) and to make progress with a diagnosis and treatment plan.
I remain defiantly optimistic and determined to get to a win-win.
Thinking of you and your child, it's great that they have you to help them through this!
I've never been the smartest person in the room, I mean never. But with humility, effort, and being stronger than I thought I was, I managed to earn an advanced degree, secure a career as an actuary, survive painful losses/endings, and be the one critical advocate for my parents during their multi-year dementia journeys. Having genuine and likable attributes has value in life.
This is amazing, Tom! 👏
I didn't see my breakup and subsequent divorce coming from my ex. We had our usual problems, but I considered them within the realm of what married couples deal with. It really came out of the blue: boom, I'm done, no talking about it, no marital counseling, nothing.
I had to make some quick decisions, but the best one I made was to move to the Washington, DC area, where I had always wanted to live since I visited DC as a teenager and visited all the usual government and tourist sites. (20 years later, I am no longer sure I want to be here, but that doesn't change the positive things that have happened to me in that time.)
I love that you took this as a way to do something you'd always wanted to do!
The funny thing is that we had planned to move here together, and had already started looking for places to live, near his sister who lives in the area. He liked one apartment complex, I liked another, and when I decided to move here, I picked the one I liked most. I ended up living there for eight years. And then I met my beloved, and we just celebrated our 12th anniversary together.
I put off having children until after I finished graduate school. I was 31 at the time. I figured I’d have no trouble getting pregnant, as I’m one of 5 children, & my 3 sisters all had kids. I was so wrong. I suffered 3 miscarriages, had unsuccessful fertility treatments, all while my sisters, several good friends, & my boss were pregnant & having babies. I felt like I was being avoided, while people I loved offered platitudes like, “A watched pot never boils”, & “You can always adopt”. It took a toll on my marriage. Shortly after it ended, my ex husband married and had two kids. I’m retired now, but I spent much of my career as a therapist working with special needs kids. I often wondered if I could handle some of these poor kids 24/7. As rewarding as the work was, it was also exhausting & thankless at times.
And frankly, in this insane country, I am grateful I have no kids or grandkids. I don’t have the emotional or physical constitution to handle the worrying I’d be doing for them.
Thank you for sharing this with us, Lisa. And I'm sorry for all that you've been through.
Never could have anticipated dealing with a global pandemic, starting when I was in my first trimester of my first pregnancy. It meant that all of my hopes for a "normal" pregnancy, birth, and newborn phase went out the window. It meant my anxiety reaching an all-time high trying to protect myself and my newborn against a disease that was so rampant and dangerous. It meant that every. single. piece of advice I was given regarding parenting or pregnancy was non-applicable because they all assumed being able to exist in the world pre-pandemic. It sucked, was devastating, and I know I'm not alone in feeling the loss for something that is so pivotal. I still sometimes mourn for what could have/would have/should have been. But these low points always end with me recognizing things that honestly could not have happened without the pandemic.
In the before times, I would have had to go into work every day, all day, up until I gave birth. Instead I was able to wear comfortable clothes to fit my growing belly and work from my own home. In the before times, I would have been expected to go back to work following my maternity leave, but instead I got the silver lining of being able to stay home with my baby while still working remotely for a whole 2.5 years. In the before times there would have been more social obligations, more sharing of my baby, more boundaries that would have been harder to uphold. As it was, I got SO much time to revel in her smallness and newness and have her all to myself.
It was incredibly hard, but the silver linings I've found in the experience have somehow made it worth the struggle.
I love this way of looking at the forced nature of the pandemic. And I'm sure the time at home with your baby, while hard at times, was a beautiful spot in your life.
Yes, absolutely! What was forced upon me for my first actually gave me the opportunity to also work remotely while my second born is home. I've had the unforeseen luxury of working remotely while never missing a moment of their growth; first steps, first words, meals together... It's definitely hard at times! But parenthood would have always been hard, and I think we just have to choose which difficult path we prefer.
I'm a stroke survivor. I suffered a cervical artery dissection at age 36, and I had no preexisting conditions or symptoms before it struck. Luckily I got help in time and made a full recovery. This near-death experience convinced me to use my advocacy skills to volunteer with the American Heart Association Leaders of Impact campaign, through which I raised $1,000 for the cause and shared my story with AHA supporters. Ever since, I've amplified stroke awareness when and where I can. Remember FAST - Face (drooping), Arms (weakness), Speech (difficulty), and Time (to call emergency services). The life you save could be your own.
This is amazing, Mike. And I'm so glad you made a full recovery.
Thank you, Shannon. Me too, I don’t know where I'd be without me!
Fantastic question. Biggest one was realizing I wanted to be a mom and my journey to becoming one at 40. Then having an 18 month old when the global pandemic hit. Also being super ill during the first trimester of my pregnancy. Second was having a child that I am still learning how to help as anxiety and potential ND unveiled my own neurodivergence and realizing my whole life has been shaped by this thing I didn’t even know existed. Becoming a mom at 40 and then having it reveal some truly life changing truths while it is also literally changing your life was/is big. I’m still looking for the silver lining but I will say it’s making me look at myself in different ways. Also realizing through having a child how unhealthy my own upbringing was and working every darn day to break cycles is something I take pride in, even when I inevitably don’t get it perfect.
You absolutely should take pride in your efforts to break the cycle. 👏
I've had quite a few, and they always serve as reminders of my own resilience.
One was a diagnosis of Crohn's disease at the age of 28. After over a year of hell, I got it under control and overhauled my lifestyle (through better nutrition, more body movement, stress reduction, more quality sleep) and was able to come off all the hard core drugs I had to take to feel normal again and was able to go into complete remission (something not common with Crohn's).
The second was watching both my parents battle cancer at the same time and losing one of them to it when I was only 33 years old (and dad was only 58).
The third was having a traumatic miscarriage at 35 and deciding not to have children. My husband has his own pretty big health conditions and there was a chance he could pass it along to a child. And I wasn't prepared to take on caring for him and a child. So we made the decision not to have children. And it turns out we love our lives without them.
Through all of it, I've become more grateful for (and don't take for granted) when I feel good and am in good health. I've developed self-compassion for the times when things are tough and I'm not sure how I'll get through. I've learned to sit in the muck without judgment, and I've learned to get comfortable being uncomfortable (even though I still hate it).
These moments can be profound learning experiences if we take the time to learn from them.
Wow, Lisa. Thank you for sharing about your life with all of us. I'm so glad you've been able to take something away from each experience.
Thank you, Shannon, for providing a safe space in which to do so! 🤗
I had my bladder removed three years ago this weekend due to a recurrence of highly aggressive bladder cancer. My doctor recommended the Indiana Pouch “diversion” which I have adjusted to surprisingly well. I wasn’t meeting people in person or in my Zoom support groups with this same new normal as me. We empty a new bladder built from our large intestine with a catheter through an abdominal stoma every few hours - the human body is freakin’ amazing! ! So, I started the first national Indiana Pouch support group. I thought because I had pretty good facilitation skills in corporate America it would be pretty easy. Wow is leading a Support Group for people with cancer challenging! Put my ego in place 😀. But it fills me with joy, hope and love from the amazing friends I’ve made. It’s a gift I gave more to myself than others.