Today I learned about the value of walking in processing the pain in grief. The very physical nature of walking, especially in nature, provides such a great basis for reflection as you’re encamped within the captivating expanses of life.
As I listened to the radio program,
I was reminded of our grief journey losing Nathanael in 2014.
This time 8 years ago, we had just embarked on a new journey within our grief process, and we truly had no idea where it would lead, how long it would last, or under what circumstances and conditions that season would conclude.
Sarah was told she would need these amnioreduction procedures because of how much amniotic fluid Nathanael was producing. Sarah’s body was not able to cope with it, and it had to be extracted via a large hypodermic needle into her uterus under ultrasound imaging. She was herself at risk.
It looked simple enough, but this world-class treatment that was administered by the pioneer of the procedure, could have brought labour on at any time, and not only were we warned of that, but we also had to prepare ourselves that our grief journey could ramp up at any time—the threat was instant loss. Because of insufficient lung capacity and other complications, we were expecting to lose Nathanael upon his birth.
As we commenced this journey, we really had no idea what it would involve.
If anything we were operating by faith in the medical staff and in many unknowns alone. We were in a constant state of having to live in the present and having no future to anchor to. But both the present and the future were full of uncertainty, and we really didn’t know what each moment would bring. Looking back there was an immense number of tasks to be done just to keep up with the process of keeping Sarah healthy, not to mention other significant factors that were ever pressing—all out of our control.
The commencement of this part of the journey was the start of a whole journey of itself.
Yet little did we know what the next 11 weeks would hold. There would be eight amnioreductions in that 11-week period all told. Some of these involved Sarah having an overnight stay to ensure she wouldn’t go into labour. At other times we felt confident that she would be okay, and we would leave the hospital after about 6 hours of having had the procedure and recovery.
When you are enduring ambiguous loss, the seasons within the overall journey seem massive, and the whole of life feels more epic (in the worst ways) than seems possible.
Each season within the overall journey requires its own courage, as each step requires its own strength. Many of us have walked these intrepid steps quite alone, and no matter how much support we had, it was still up to us to take each step.
Add in the complication of clinical depression, which is not uncommon in traumatising grief, and we can feel like we don’t have what it takes to even take those steps. Each step can feel insurmountable. We can feel immobile.
When you look back over the entire journey and wonder how you made it, you begin to realise how glad you were that you didn’t know how long and how hard it would be. I’m sure that it is a real blessing to not know in advance what is involved in stepping out the whole grief journey.
What this really says to those who have been there is you have incredible courage, stamina, and resilience, no matter how weak, incapacitated, and incapable you felt along the journey.
Anyone who has been through a life-changing season will attest to the years it takes to journey through the whole ordeal, whether it’s loss of a partner, a child, a career, or transition through something else momentous.
If you’ve been through such a horrendous journey, where there were several suffering seasons strung together in series, hard season through sad season, through challenging season, through angry season, through debilitating season, you may wonder how you got through, but I know how grateful you must be that you are no longer in that pit.
If this is you, and your life has been turned upside down due to circumstances beyond your control, and even if you’ve had some role to play in the consequences that have been dished out towards you, simply have faith for the moment, and then for the next one, and then for the next. Somehow it just works if we boil it down one moment at a time.
Reflection is not an important activity when you’re in the middle of hell trying to get all the way through; you stick to the dark path seemingly blindly. There’s plenty of time for that at the appropriate time.
Stick to what you know best, that you’ve got this, that you can and will get through, that you have the resources within yourself and externally to negotiate the journey. You can and you will. Ensure you have the humility to reach out for support, but also have faith that you can do those alone steps by yourself.
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