“If you had to choose which child to give back to me, which one would you choose?” were the thoughts that came to my mind when I was putting laundry away. I went through each of my children and decided that I wasn’t going to choose. “I am sorry, I just can’t choose. You will have to decide.”
It wasn’t until a few months later, that I was to find out which child would be chosen. My husband and I took our very first trip away from the kids in 8 years of marriage. We were traveling to Havasupai to spend the weekend at the grand canyon enjoying hiking, swimming, and the company of each other and friends. I prayed each night I was gone that my children would be safe until I returned, but I knew that something terrible would happen. And as much as that fear tugged at my heart, I also knew that I needed to go on this trip.
On June 9, 2008, I received the call that no mother should ever have to receive and no father should ever have to make. My worst fear had taken hold. “Brittany, its Daxton.” My dad told me that Daxton had been tangled in the blinds. He didn’t have to finish. And I knew. I knew that my little boy who had only been with me for 1 year and 9 days was no longer here with me on this earth. The drive home was long and painful with cries to a God whom I had relied on my entire life. My soul was wracked with more torment than I had ever before or since felt.
I started asking why? Why me Lord? Why was this happening to me, to my son? My only son. As I held his precious body in my arms, I could feel His arms around me. In the most trying time of my life, when my world was crashing down around me, when it seemed as if my life were over, I felt the arms of a loving Heavenly Father. I was not alone in this. He knew what it was like to lose a child and He was there to comfort me.
The next few weeks were a blur. My heart was numb. My brain kept screaming that I had lost my son, yet my heart just didn’t want to believe it. I would get in the car and be frantic because I thought that I had left Daxton somewhere. I would go to his room to get him out of his crib in the morning. I would set him a plate at the dinner table. I knew he was gone, but he was in my arms or at my feet his entire life. I had literally lost a physical part of me. A piece of me was buried in the ground that hot summer day in June. If it weren’t for my 2 other children, it is very likely I would have joined him.
My faith was shaken to the very core. I had always had a testimony. I knew the church was true. I knew that families were forever. I knew that bad things happened to good people. But, how could a loving Father in Heaven take away my son? How could I feel so much pain and that be OK with Him? I found no comfort in reading church books or talks, mainly because my brain literally could not focus for more than 5 minutes on any task for about 6 months, but also because there wasn’t anything that I didn’t already know that I could read about and feel better. I needed this time to truly grieve and that is exactly what I was doing. And I was alone.
I reflected back on an area conference that Elder Holland had spoken at. I was holding my little Daxton, who was 6 months, when I heard him say, (and I paraphrase) Where are you going to go? When life gets hard, where are you going to go? Are you going to go find solace in drinking, gambling, partying? Go ahead! But you won’t find happiness there. You will only wallow and make it worse. This is where you belong. Surrounded by people who love you and support you. Strengthened by the God who gave you life.
As those words came back to me, I realized that I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by good people who loved me. The enabling power of the atonement was at work in my life. When I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, friends would offer to take the kids, meals were brought in, laundry was done, all from the service of others. Tender mercies were granted when I found the perfect dress for the funeral, when I had a friend at my beck and call to do anything I needed her to, and when the week of the funeral went just as it was planned.
Just when I thought another day “alone” in my grief would do me in, I met Stephanie Waite (www.adailyscoop.blogspot.com). She was my PERSON! The one person who knew what I was going through as she had lost her 14 month old daughter just days after Daxton. I also realized that my Father in Heaven knew exactly how I felt. After all, He did send His Son, and He watched Him suffer. And my Savior knew what I was feeling because He suffered for all MY griefs and sorrows.
I could never say that losing Daxton was worth it. However, the lessons I have learned are invaluable and thankfully I have learned them and continue to learn them, because I would not be able to live with myself if Daxton’s death was for nothing. I am forever changed. I will never be the same person I was before Daxton died. There was my life before Daxton died and there is my life after Daxton died.
Friendships are different. There are some I no longer talk to and there are friends who have stood by my side cheering me on in their own way. It is hard to meet new people because invariable the question of how many kids comes up, followed by how old they are and then I have to decide, Are they worth me opening my heart up to them? There is the emptiness in my heart that not all my children are together. That Isabella will never know her older brother in this life and that Savannah and Mikenna will forget him as they get older.
It is hard to believe that Daxton would have been 4 this year. It is hard to believe that I am still here, that I have made it this far. Those early days of grief I thought I would never be able to make it another day. And here I am three years later. I am better. I am stronger. I have more compassion and sympathy, I know that families are forever and I will live with and raise my son again. I have been blessed by the healing power of the atonement. I am far from perfect. I still have the bad days, but thankfully the crippling grief comes less often.
Thank you, Brittany, for sharing this post about your grief. It will take awhile to process.
Beautifully written! Thank you!
You have a beautiful family, Brittany. Like Alisa, I’ll need some time to process this, but thank you for sharing your sincere thoughts and feelings on this tragedy in your life.
Brittany,
I’m so glad you wrote about your experiences with Daxton’s death. It must be incredibly hard, especially at this time of year, but your story is so important, it has to be shared.
When I read your essay and think of how this played out in real life, I just think, “There but for the grace of God, go I.”
I’m not sure there’s really a good way for friends and family to help someone like you in your grief, but I think part of it is acknowledging that this could (and might) happen to any of us at any time.
Can you give any other suggestions for how to help parents who are grieving over the loss of their child? What about examples of kindness and support that were welcomed and even some that perhaps missed the mark?
There are so many things that I wanted to say in this essay, but there is not enough time and space. So please feel free to ask questions.
Jess,
“Can you give any other suggestions for how to help parents who are grieving over the loss of their child? ”
I do wish that there was a good textbook answer, but unfortunately there isn’t. I still don’t know what to say to other moms when I meet them for the first time and they tell me they have lost a child. Its awkward. Even though I am in the same position. Each situation is different and each person grieves so very differently.
I suppose it’s “easier” for me to talk to these moms (we like to say “angel moms”) because I can share my story. We usually end up all teary eyed and hugging, because really that is the best thing to do.
**Cry with them, listen to them, be there for them. Don’t treat them like they have the plague, because this plague could at any moment come to your home. Case in point, I had a group of friends and we used to play games weekly and sometimes bi weekly. It wasn’t 2 weeks after Daxton died that we got together and they whipped me soundly and didn’t think twice about it. Now if that isn’t what true friendship is; to kick you when you are down, then I don’t know what is. (these women were some of the most supportive and still supportive of all and I love them dearly forever). And obviously they didn’t treat me like I had the plague.
But friendships/relationships HAVE changed. There are some friends I don’t talk to anymore. And there are some I am closer to than before.
I was once of the belief that “that will never happen to me, and I am glad its not me, and it sucks to be you.” And it happened to me, I was not glad it was me, and it did/does suck to be me.
** Don’t forget about the child who died… or the mother. Each anniversary (weeks, months, years), birthday, holiday will bring new emotions for her. After Daxton died, I was inundated with visitors, cards, food, etc. for the first few weeks and then it trickled.
My life had completely fallen apart and there were people still going to the grocery store. I coudn’t even fathom getting out of bed. I wish that there was a t shirt or necklace that was a universal sign for I lost a child, bear with me. A simple card will do or a phone call or a text, just to let her know you are still thinking about her. It really helps.
**There isn’t a right thing to say. Unfortunately whatever you say is going to come out wrong, just know it :). However, a hug and a listening ear are always appreciated. You must also remember that maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe she just wants to go get ice cream and drown her sorrows in chocolate, or she wants to go for a run, or a drive, or listen to loud music, or jump up and down and scream and yell and hit something, or fall into a heap on the floor and cry. If you know this mother, you will know how to help her.
I couldn’t physically eat for 2 weeks. I lost 12 pounds at 11 weeks pregnant in 2 weeks. I couldn’t run. And I am a runner. But my appetite came back and chocolate chip cookies and ice cream were welcome and a 6 mile run was just what I needed.
“What about examples of kindness and support that were welcomed and even some that perhaps missed the mark?”
I am not going to lie, church was hard. It was right about the time we were studying Joseph Smith and all the hardships and losing babies and … and … and …. My ward members were very supportive, but I still felt like I was being watched, “hmmm what is she going to do next, what is she going to say, will I offend her if I make a comment?”
I actually had a friend teaching a lesson on losing a loved one and she said that it would be really hard for me to be there. She didn’t ask me not to be there, but because I loved her so much and didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable I went to primary :).
After about a month of sitting through these lessons in Relief Society, I asked to be put in the primary. I am needed there by my oldest special needs child so it worked out well. The children were so non judgmental and loving and it was just where I needed to be.
I actually don’t have a horrific story about someone saying something awful and offending me. I actually had a lot of people say awful things to me, but they were my dear friends and I knew that what they were trying to say wasn’t what came out or how I took it. I just had to tell myself that these people love me, they aren’t trying to hurt me, and I had to just not be offended. It’s hard, but if I was offended by every little thing that someone said, I wouldn’t have any friends at all. Truly. And I wouldn’t be visiting my family much either for that matter.
For example, I had one of my closest friends say to me, “aren’t you over it yet?” (it had only been like a month). I knew that she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings and that she was kind of trying to figure out what I was going through. So I sent her some of my thoughts on those early days and she better understood. She was also my reality check. If I was having a bad day and didn’t want to get out of bed, she would say to me, “well what do you think that will accomplish? Will that make you feel better?” and she was right. It would accomplish nothing and I wouldn’t feel better.
**I needed a “person.” Someone who I could look at and say, ya know? Without having to say anything. And I found her. Not too long after Daxton died, her little girl died. She was about the same age and it was again a tragic accident, although not the same one.
We ended up starting an “angel children” blog. In just one year we had over 75 moms and almost 3 years later, we have added so many more. It is so heartbreaking, but a relief to know that I am not alone. I am not the only person on this planet that has lost a child. Locally there are about 15 moms and we all get together every 6 months or so and usually have added 1 or 2 more women. I have met some of the most amazing women, accomplishing almost impossible tasks. We have a running joke that no matter how great of friends we all are, we would give each other up for one more day with our precious little ones.
You can email me at brittkunzATgmailDOTcom and I can refer anyone you know that might need some support. (that sounded so lame, but seriously)
That was Really LONG. If you have other questions, please feel free to ask!
Brittany, just a quick administrative note: I changed the format of your email address so that it won’t be picked up by spammers. I figure you don’t want spam anymore than the rest of us. 🙂
This is really thoughtful advice . . . worth its own post. Thank you for taking the time to write this for us. I am sure that more than one person will come across this at a time of need for them. Sometimes it’s hard to reach out when we are in the midst of grief, but reading the experience of others can be like a hug from a friend (or from God).
Brittany, thank you so much for sharing your story. I know you’ve probably heard this before, and maybe it’s a trite thing to say, but it’s true: I cannot even begin to imagine what you went through losing your sweet little one. I’m so sorry.
As you said, “Each situation is different and each person grieves so very differently.” It was so lovely to read about your finding strength in your relationship with Heavenly Father (though it’s clear from your story and your comment that doing so was not the kind of simple thing we too often mistake finding strength in God to be). When I have struggled through challenges, I have tried to do so, too. Sometimes it works; other times it doesn’t. I know there are parents who have lost their children who felt abandoned by God. There are others who found strength there, but still needed other resources (I love the way that you and other angel mothers have built a network to support each other, for instance). One of the things we really hope our series about death and mourning will do is give people who have lost loved ones a chance to share their stories if they think it will help. I hope that other parents who have lost children will recognize the openness and acceptance you obviously feel towards all kinds of experiences of loss and feel welcome to share, regardless of how different their own experiences may be.
Thank you for sharing your perspective and experience.
Amelia,
Thanks for fixing my email. I don’t really like spam 🙂
It is an all too common story that people feel abandoned by God when something so devastating happens. It is a very real part of grief. And at times, it was a very real part of MY grief. There are so many ups and downs in the early days and then later there aren’t as many, but they still come. It is hard to find a new norm or a new balance.
Each person has to decide which way they are going to go. I don’t necessarily think there is a “right” way per se, because we are all so individual with different experiences in our lives that make us who we are. When something so devastating happens that you feel like your legs have been cut off at the knees, it is a real defining moment in your life. At least it was in my experience. I could very easily have been angry at God or felt abandoned. Who wouldn’t? My whole world came crashing down on me in a matter of seconds.
But I made a decision. That no matter what, this wouldn’t break me. I would come out bloody, bruised, battered, and broken, but I would be smarter, better, and faster than I was before. I can’t say that I am whole. That the hold that was left in my heart is fixed, but it has been patched little by little.
My goal in sharing my story is that people will know they aren’t alone. There are others who have been through this before. And I think that goes with anything in life. You have to find people who relate to you and understand you so that you can feel validated instead of insane. And also to give a little hope. The early days are awful, the loneliness and isolation is almost unbearable, and when you find your new normal, your new place, it isn’t better, but it is different. Each day passes on and you realize that you can get out of bed, that you can face a new day, and that hopefully at the end of the day, you realize that you aren’t alone…. Ok I am rambling 🙂
Thanks so much for sharing. I really can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. I have four kids, and if I even begin to try and imagine how I would handle that situation, it’s like I can’t even breathe just thinking about it. I hope by hearing what you’ve been through that maybe I can be a little less likely to say one of those stupid things many of us find ourselves saying because we just don’t get it.
Thanks also for sharing that although you still feel immense pain, you still feel the atonement in your life. Sometimes we feel abandoned when we hurt so bad, but I know some of my most painful moments have been bittersweet because I have felt my Savior so strongly.
Thank you again. Your story truly touched me.
Brittany, thanks so much for sharing your experience. I so admire your ability and courage to tell your story to help others.
I particularly appreciate your ideas about not getting offended when friends say the wrong thing. I know I have talked to friends who have gone through (or are going through) something horrific, and I leave them or hang up the phone and just want to hit my head against the wall at the insensitive things I’ve said. For some reason, I’m all the worse at it when it’s someone I truly love and want to comfort–I think it’s nerves or something.
I once heard that 75% of marriages that deal with the death of a young child end in divorce. I don’t know if that statistic is true and haven’t heard any research about it. Do you know anything about this? Do you mind talking a bit about how you and your husband grieved together?
Thank you again. This post truly helps my understanding of death and grief.
“I once heard that 75% of marriages that deal with the death of a young child end in divorce. I don’t know if that statistic is true and haven’t heard any research about it. Do you know anything about this? Do you mind talking a bit about how you and your husband grieved together?”
Among my group of “angel moms” (about 140), I only know of 1 divorce resulting from the death of a child, but I think that there were some other underlying and unresolved issues that may have just been exacerbated by the death of her child.
My husband and I grieved VERY differently separately and together. Like I said before, grief is so individual and different, especially between men and women. That being said, my husband and I are closer now than ever before. We grieved together. Suffering such a loss was/is devastating. When he had his ups, he was able to comfort me when I was down. When he was down, I was able to comfort him, and when we were both down, we just held each other and cried.
My husband and I didn’t do a lot of talking because we had both suffered the same loss. There was no need to. I knew how he felt and he knew how I felt, mostly :). My husband found comfort in reading. He read a lot of conference talks, church books, and grief books by LDS authors who had also lost children. On the other hand, I found no comfort in reading conference talks or church books of any kind. Mostly because I didn’t have ANY attention span (staring at the wall or watching mindless TV was about all I could handle), but also because, I knew what I knew, and the doctrine wasn’t going to take the pain away. I wrote. A lot. Everything. I held nothing back. And it was very healing for me.
I did read a few books that I thought were absolutely phenomenal. One was called “Silent Grief,” sent to me by a non member friend. I really appreciated the way the author was frustrated and angry and grieved somewhat bitterly. By the time I finished the book, I felt like my feelings had been validated, but I was also ready to move on to something a little lighter and churchy :).
I think a lot of times that husbands get left out of the loop of grief. I had 3 months off and my husband had a week. People still ask me how I am doing, but I don’t think they ask him. My friends bring me little gifts and cards, but his don’t. He takes it really well though.
Thank you for sharing your story. My husband never quite understands why I am willing to listen or read or watch a tv show where the painful realities of life are portrayed. I do it because sometimes down the road those same tragedies can happen to me and I have drawn strength from having a glimpse of what it is like and examples of people to emulate.
I hope you continue to find joy and happiness and comfort in life despite being separated from your Daxton.
Thank you for your story. It does suck to be you.
Some family friends lost a son. Eileen (mom) had to start shopping at a different grocery store because of all the people she would run into. It made me think…. when I know someone in a similar situation, I’m not going to comment on it. If they are having a few moments in their life where the loss isn’t strangling them, I certainly don’t want to bring the focus back to their grief. They know I know, and I know they know I know, so let’s just talk about veggies instead. No plague.
I think it is important to comment on the loss, or at least say something about the child that died. I know that my closest friends know, but it validates my son’s existence when someone mentions his name, or tells me they are/ have been thinking about him.
Brittany, i am truly moved by reading your story and thoughts. Thank you for sharing them. I admire your strength in dealing with the grief of loosing your son. I am curious how did your daughters react and while you worry about them forgetting, do you do things as a family to remember daxon. And how did your parents and other extended relatives respond? Like emily, i would be particularly interested to hear how your marriage coped? Does your husband share the same faith? Also, you spoke about the idea of premonition- was that something that became more concrete with hindsight or can you better describe those thoughts and how you felt them at the time.
Kelly Ann, that’s a lot of questions. I will do my best to answer :).
“I am curious how did your daughters react and while you worry about them forgetting, do you do things as a family to remember daxon.”
My girls were 6 and 4 when Daxton died. We told them what happened in very simple terms and that he wouldn’t be coming back. We saw him in his casket, we saw them put his body in the ground. We tried the best we could to teach them about where the Spirit goes and where the body goes after we die. They knew his spirit went to Heaven where he would be with Jesus and his body was at the cemetery which we visited frequently.
I was pregnant at the time and they would ask if the baby was going to die. After she was born, they would say things like, “when Isabella dies….” because that is all they knew. That their siblings die. They often talk about death, because it isn’t taboo at our house. Daxton died. He is in heaven. When other people around us die, we tell them that they will likely be seeing Daxton. I am not sure how much registers in their little minds, but it seems to me they understand a lot more than I give them credit for.
We have several traditions throughout the year we do to honor Daxton’s memory. For his birthday we usually have a fun pizza party with cake and ice cream and swimming. Just what a little boy would like. We release balloons at the cemetery and sing Happy Birthday. On the anniversary of his death, we go out of town as a family with friends who also lost a child, just shortly after Daxton. For Christmas I have an angel stocking and every year we set a goal as a family and individually something that will make us better. We then write it on a piece of paper and put it in the stocking.
“And how did your parents and other extended relatives respond?” I was out of town when Daxton died so my mom was the one who was there at the hospital while they were coding him. And my brothers and sisters held his body until I got there to hold him. My family was really supportive. They still said things to me that I thought were dumb, like my mom always says, “I know.” I am sorry but no matter how I look at it she will never be able to say “I know.” Although it must be really hard to grieve the loss of a grandchild and also watch your own child suffer so immensely.
“Also, you spoke about the idea of premonition- was that something that became more concrete with hindsight or can you better describe those thoughts and how you felt them at the time.”
As a mother you have fears. I had fears. But when I had this thought come to me I knew plain as day that something was going to happen. I just wasn’t sure what and how bad. I could never have been prepared for the reality that I came home to that VERY lonely day in June. In hindsight I can definitely see that yes, the Lord was preparing me for something that was going to be VERY hard.
Thanks for sharing this, Brittany. I am so glad that you did and I hope this brings rest and comfort to others. I am wondering… what are your thoughts on raising the child in the next life? Does this thought bring you comfort? Does it hurt? I personally detest the line when it is dismissive (which it often is)… what are your thoughts on it? Has it and said it to you, and did it bring peace or made things worse?
Of course it hurts. My favorite was “Well at least he is in a better place.” RIGHT! Like my arms aren’t better? UGH! Don’t ever say that. It doesn’t make it better.
I think that most people have the best of intentions when making such remarks. And same with comments on the Plan of Salvation and that families will be together forever. I knew that. I know that. I didn’t need someone to tell me. What I needed was “I love you, and this sure sucks, lets go get a coke.”
However, I have a real testimony of the Atonement and my Savior suffering for my sorrows and tribulations. It is often the forgotten part of the atonement. I also know that the Plan of Salvation is real, that I will live with my child again. That I will get to raise him and hold him and teach him, but it will all be in a perfect world and my other children won’t be little anymore. He will be all alone in my raising him, which will be sad. The dynamic in my home is different without him and I often wonder what it would be like with Daxton here.
All that being said, knowledge in the plan of salvation is how I found peace. This knowledge helps me to deal with Daxton’s death. Each person has to find their own way. Each person has to decide how they will deal with it and each person has to decide the reasons they will get out of bed each day. These are mine, just one person, in a very big world.
PS: my husband said to tell you that when we see Daxton again, for my sake, it better be on a Monday, because he has called first dibs on fishing and camping that first weekend.
Sometimes I wonder if I ran into such tragedy, if my faith in a loving God would be strong enough. I will remember your story. Thank you for sharing it.
Oh man, this was hard to read. I am pretty much bawling just thinking about what you went through. I cannot fathom what you must have felt. There is so much hurt and unfairness. I just ache and ache and ache for so many people, and can’t make it better. You are inspiring for being able to extract the positive from such a trial.
Thanks for writing this. I think it is incredibly important for us all to become acquainted with the grief of those around us. After all, as you said, the people around us are the ones who need to lift us up when we don’t have the strength in our own legs. Thank you for the insight into how you have felt. It helps the rest of us to mourn with those that mourn, and succor those in need.
This story is so sad, and also terrifying to me as a mother. I decided to take down all the blinds in my house. And now I’m looking around trying to figure out what else I need to do, what other disasters I can avert. And I realize that though I can prevent some of the possible tragedies, I’m not powerful enough to avert them all, and that’s deeply frightening, because I’m the mom and I’m the one to whom the little ones look for security and safety, and for protection. Because I’m here, they need not worry.
But I know I’m not invulnerable. I know I can’t protect them from everything. How does a parent live with this knowledge? How do you not let fear paralyze you? How do you not shut down the other kids’ lives from fear for their safety?
As a mother, our worst fear is that we will lose a child. And my worst fear has come to pass. It is also STILL my worst fear. I am surrounded by angel moms who has lost children a hundred different ways, Truly. And I wonder how I can keep my kids safe, how can I make them so that NOTHING ever happens to them.
Truth is. You can’t. There isn’t really a good answer either. Each person has to answer it for themselves, because you could quite literally drive yourself insane trying to keep your kids “safe.”
It is a hard line to walk fear and faith in this case. I have the fear that one of my children might be taken one of a thousand different ways, but faith in God that He knows what He is doing. After Daxton died, I had Isabella. It is so scary to have little ones because they are so vulnerable. I was almost neurotic checking on her when she was sleeping, cutting up food into small pieces, taking her to the doctor for a common cold, and then I realized that if it is God’s will that He take another one of my children, then He will. While I don’t particularly like to dwell on this thought, because I am not sure I could handle another loss, it brings me the peace that I need and the fear subsides, although it is still there.
Brittany, I needed to read your story tonight. I was led to it by chance at first thought, but more likely by a kind a loving Father who knows I need comfort right now. I too have lost my son and tonight is another sleepless pit of despair. Your experience is my experience and reading it was like reading my own journal. Thank you. It is so good to know that we are never truly alone, even when we are at our loneliest. Brittany, I’m sorry for your loss, and like you, I’m sorry we have to understand each others’ pain and grief. What I would give to not have been given this cross to bear, to not know the depth of this pain, to not know other grieving parents, to not live with this cavernous hole in my heart. May God bless you as He has blessed me and my family through this life altering trial. Please know that your words have given me the comfort and peace I sought tonight and I am better for them.
[…] on finding a career after motherhood Two of Three’s guest post on giving children self-esteem Guest post Brittany Kunz’s post about the death of her young son Zenaida talks about getting along with her believing family when she no longer believes Heather […]