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Grief and Little Ones

I listened to a podcast about parenting young children after loss. The guest was Michele Benyo, a grief expert specialising in early childhood parenting. She shared so much practical advice on navigating grief and death with children, allowing space for both your grief and theirs.

One particular point has lingered. She said that the best time to learn about grief and death is in childhood, the earlier the better. For some of us this opportunity, if you want to call it that, is unwillingly thrust upon us. Suddenly it’s our reality and if we don’t want to drown in it, we must learn to swim.

But if this is not our experience, the natural response is to protect our children from it, especially young children. This comes from our discomfort. Not theirs. They are curious and don’t have the same feelings of morbidity and fear that we do.

I can speak to this from my own experience feeling so uncomfortable using the word ‘died’ after Ada… died. In the early days I was saying we lost her, she had passed, she was a star. I had a sense I wasn’t handling it as I should and sought-out suitable books I could read to Lottie and started to educate myself. Even still, it took some time for me to say to her, or anyone, that Ada had died.

Research shows that teaching your children while they’re young about loss, grief and death can help build compassion, empathy and resilience. Preparing them for life and inevitable loss.

This can be as simple as leaning into conversations instead of rushing past them. Stop a moment, acknowledge the loss and put words to it… “I’m so sorry you lost your Teddy. It is hard to lose something we love. It’s ok to feel sad and to miss teddy”.

She also spoke a lot about bereaved siblings. How like us their loss and grief will continue to take shape and change as they grow older, as they become more aware and have a deeper understanding of what has happened.

We talk about Ada with Lottie every day. Often now without tears. We are so very lucky that Lottie had the opportunity to meet Ada and hold her at the hospital. She carries around photos of all our family, Ada included, and she sleeps with her photo under her pillow.

Because of this Lottie talks about Ada unprompted all the time. With her grandparents, friends and at day care. She will happily tell you she has a little sister in the sky called Ada. She blows her kisses. My heart both swells and breaks. Even amongst her smiles she knows it’s inherently sad. When I cry, she will say “mummy missing Ada” and gives me a hug.

I know that her awareness and curiosity will continue to grow, and I will be here willing to answer her questions as best I can. But what about when she talks to other people? Most importantly other kids?

So, I wanted to extend this opportunity to our friends with kids, to start a conversation about life and death. Tell them Ada’s story. Or another person in your life who has died. Or both. Don’t be scared.

My friend shared with me what she told her son and this is as simple as it needs to be. He is three.

“Lottie has a baby sister called Ada. It’s very sad, but Ada died. This means her body stopped working and she didn’t get to come home from the hospital like your little brother did”

This prompted a very interesting conversation that she wasn’t anticipating. And he has gone on to ask other questions about ‘Lottie’s little sister’ since.

You should always reassure young children that this is uncommon, that it’s not the norm for babies or children to die. That it usually occurs after a long and full life when we are old and grey.

Start the conversation, show them your emotions, involve them with rituals and traditions like funerals and raise emotionally intelligent humans for our next generations.

By Emma Francis, bereaved mum