Jun 1, 2022
I contacted Bereaved Families of Ontario in 2019.
The first interactions with the executive director were helpful. She talked of her beloved, baby daughter who had died, and asked me questions that kept me from slipping away. It would have been easy to do.
I attended a few meetings at Bereaved Families with other moms before these in-person meetings ended due to the world-wide pandemic in early 2020. I had merely just begun.
At this same time, and in response to the public health guidelines a mix of outdoor, in-person and online meetings commenced. I found myself both comforted by these moms’ words and presence, and also feeling myself reaching to comfort those in crushing pain.
Somewhere along the line, I realized that I was breathing again.
The inhale and exhale of accepting comfort and offering comfort was indeed a sacred thing.
The ability to do this from my home (I reside in a rural area) and without concern for appearance or state of mind was extremely helpful for me. I once heard someone say that face to face is most helpful and I believe that’s true. I also believe it can be attained through the offerings of modern technology.
These moms’ faces and focused pain are etched in my heart for all time.
After almost two years and many online meetings, community events, a long personal pilgrimage and gained and lost relationships, I came to know that I wanted to assist Bereaved Families in offering space for those who want help for their hurting hearts and minds.
I want to listen to and honour the experiences of loss that I am privileged to witness. If I can, I want to offer insight into strategies / ways of coping, and support for those needing comfort at a time where comfort feels so lost.
I would encourage anyone who is feeling the pull toward this action, no matter how small or humble, to extend your hand. Together we are carving out a space where each of us can bring our broken and beating hearts to the table. Where we can provide, offer and gain support in our personal journeying with grief.
Catherine
If you would be interested in becoming a Peer Support Volunteer for Bereaved Families – Southwest you can click here for more information.
Feb 4, 2022
“We the bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in the world- the company of those who have known suffering.” Helen Keller
Laura was our second daughter, the middle child of three.
She was friendly, outgoing and always liked to help others, but at the same time had a very sensitive nature. In October of 2005, when she was a third year psychology student at Brock University, life for her became overwhelming and painful and she died from suicide at age 19.
Laura’s death came without warning and immediately threw my husband, Rick, and I into a dark abyss from where we began our ongoing journey of grief and healing.
It was a simple but significant gesture, a colleague from work handed me a little business card, “Bereaved Families of Ontario-Southwest” region, and said this is a group you might like to call.
I remember putting the card on my bureau at home and looking at it every day. A few weeks after Laura’s death I decided to phone BFO which has turned out to be, after almost 17 years, one of the best phone calls I have ever made.
Rick and I joined a club whose admission fee is excruciatingly high and one that you never want to take out a membership.
Both of us were self absorbed in our own grief those first few years and attended the many support services offered, such as, large group discussions, peer support groups and annual events. We had obtained external professional counselling but the ongoing support we received from the other bereaved parents we met at BFO activities was a significant help to our grieving.
There came a point in time in our journey when Rick and I felt we had moved beyond the intense pain and challenges of our own grief and were ready to reach out to other bereaved parents. Rick was frustrated with constantly receiving help and assistance from others while at the same time wasn’t helping anyone himself. I too was motivated to give back the caring and kindness that I had received when I felt so lost and alone.
Volunteering for BFO was also a way for us to honour our daughter’s life and make something positive from our experience. We wanted to help make a difference to the lives of other parents who are grieving the death of their child.
I remember being approached by BFO’s Executive Director and asked if we might consider becoming peer to peer support workers. Without hesitation we agreed and began training sessions on facilitating peer support groups. Rick and I have co facilitated couples’ support groups and, upon request, have held one on one conversations with a bereaved parent dealing with a death of child from suicide. Rick has also co-facilitated a peer support group specifically for bereaved fathers and I have done the same for mothers.
The benefits of volunteering for BFO is captured in Gandhi’s quote, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”
Being able to extend a helping hand to others in the same boat as us and offering them encouragement and hope is very rewarding. Giving back makes you feel part of the BFO team. Co-facilitating the peer support groups also provides insight on your own grief and that increased self-awareness can be transformative. You learn new skills and meet new people.
As with any venture one undertakes there can be concerns worth mentioning. As a co-facilitator for a bereavement support group you can be drawn back to your own grief and personal experiences. The training sessions and the ongoing support we received from mentors have been invaluable to deal with any challenges that could arise.
For Rick and I the strength of BFO is, that, the bereaved, are the BFO.
We leave you with the following quote, “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” Jane Goodall
And to those considering volunteering we say try it!
by Marilyn & Rick Evans
If you would be interested in becoming a Peer Support Volunteer for Bereaved Families – Southwest you can click here for more information.
Nov 2, 2021
The following video was produced for Bereaved Families of Ontario.
Across Ontario there are 11 different regional Bereaved Families organizations providing support to those who are grieving the loss of a loved one.
Oct 20, 2021
Carmens’ losses have had a profound impact on her outlook on life. As a registered nurse, she has also been involved with many bereaved families experiencing child loss.
This October and November Carmen raised funds and donations for Bereaved Families through her Baby Wrap Fundraiser. This was also an important opportunity for Carmen to spread awareness and light on the darkness surrounding Pregnancy and Infant Loss.
You can read more about her experiences and her suggestions on supporting someone experiencing pregnancy loss further down on this page.
** In total $1,450 was raised in support of our organization! We are so appreciative. **
A Note of Thanks from Carmen to Everyone Who Supported Her Fundraiser…
Dear Contributors & Supporters 🙂
Every small act is no small act and has a huge impact making a difference in lives of countless people 🙂
As I reviewed the amounts and saw the final total (including donation amounts that I didn’t know about) my screen went blurry as I couldn’t hold back the tears. I immediately just wanted to swarm my supporters in endless thanks although some donors remain anonymous. I so appreciate you beyond these words!
Sometimes with doing campaigns; though you do it from a place of such empathy and compassion you don’t want to shove the fundraiser in peoples faces and there are times you get discouraged and feel like you aren’t doing enough or want to do more and then I see this and remember…I am the dreamer but it is the power of people who make these beautiful dreams a reality we can all be so proud of!
I do believe people are inherently good and am happy to know we can all wrap each other in loving kindness…supporting Bereaved Families a little more this holiday season…it is people like you who are the found Hope!
Sincerely moved… Carmen 🙂 xo
We will be continuing to accept donations for Carmen’s Finding Hope campaign until January 2022.
To make a donation online click here or on the button below and you can choose Carmen’s Finding Hope fund in the options.
If making an online donation we also suggest submitting it to the Finch Match My Donation program. Information available here.
To make a donation by mail, please make out your cheque to “Bereaved Families of Ontario-Southwest Region and mail to PO Box 22067 London, ON N6A 6H8.
Funds raised will be used to provide support to Bereaved Parents through initial phone support, and monthly peer support groups.
We very much appreciate Carmen’s support and also want to recognize the support of Mary, Carmen’s friend Karen, and her dear Oma for assisting with all of the sewing 😊
My name is Carmen
My name is Carmen, and I have experienced the heartbreak, isolation and challenges of pregnancy loss.
I have been pregnant 9 times and have lost 6 pregnancies. The losses occurred at different stages ranging from early on in the first trimester, to losing Jude at 21 weeks and Kaia at 24 weeks.
We have also been blessed with 3 children – Case born in 2017, Maelie in 2019 and Ayda in 2021.
I was asked many times ‘why do you keep trying, haven’t you lost enough?, aren’t you scared it will happen again?’ Absolutely I was, but it was also due to what I gained in so many aspects. A wise high risk obstetrician once told me, “some families are complete at 1 and others are complete at 5. You are allowed to want what you want.”
Pregnancy loss is such a shock. One minute you’re pregnant and the next you’re not. When you head home empty handed and un-pregnant, nothing can prepare you for this kind of trauma.
Throughout my pregnancy losses I was able to return to a sense of hope. My lost babies are the lights that guide my life. I do believe we feel deeper and see more clearly the world and the beauty in it, after we have lost. We are more mindful of the little pleasures that come our way. We see life and cherish it in a different way somehow.
As a registered nurse, I have also been involved with many bereaved families who have lost a child. I’ve seen parents in utter disbelief and in shock, not registering the world around them, when their child has died. It has been a great honour to be with them at these times as they navigate the despair and unimaginable circumstances they are faced with. I always think of how our children, even in death, are wrapped into our lives forever and will always be intertwined with us.
As a grieving parent, we may feel many different things. We might feel anger at the happy families who seem to so haphazardly have babies or have not lost a child. We might recognize that in life, there is so much we cannot control, but still crave control. We might lean into symbolism, or different spiritual beliefs, and take comfort in these beliefs, even if it feels woo-woo or crazy.
There is no right way to grieve. Some days I found myself rolling on the grass like an animal, and other days I found myself unable to get off the kitchen floor, convulsing in tears. Know that some days are harder than others and that’s ok. We are also allowed to have good days in grief. And some days we may be side swiped unexpectedly. Grief becomes part of our journey in life.
Carmen’s Suggestions on How to Support Someone Experiencing Pregnancy Loss
Say something. Do it even if it means engaging in uncomfortable conversations rather than saying nothing at all. Not saying anything at all only deepens the silence and isolation that we feel.
Speak the babies’ names. This helps confirm they were here with us, and they mattered.
Listen. Sit with your person without offering any advice. This may feel tough as you want to feel helpful, but by just lending an ear for others to process their feelings you are being supportive.
Try not to use cliches. Saying ‘at least you weren’t very far along’, or ‘you can try again,’ and/or ‘everything happens for a reason’ can make you feel better, but minimizes the loss and your acknowledgement of it.
Use supportive statements.
- I am here for you.
- I love you.
- I am deeply sorry for your loss.
- If you want to talk, I will listen.
- I cannot believe what you’ve just been through.
- This sucks.
These statements help validate the loss and recognize it’s significance.
Continue to check in. Even if they say they are okay, don’t leave it at that. Send freezer meals, flowers, and notes so they feel comforted, even a week, months, a year, or years after the loss. This means to us someone is thinking about us in the depth of our despair when the world has moved on and we are still grieving. There is no time-line or finish line for grief, you never get “over it”.
Know this…. When we talk about pregnancy loss, we help break the silence surrounding this type of loss. It helps get rid of the shame, guilt and stigma surrounding it. Millions of women worldwide go through pregnancy loss, and it’s scary. We need to talk about it, and the grief and trauma it presents. Thank you for being part of this movement.
Oct 13, 2021
Hello, my name is Adam and I was asked to share on my experience in the Men’s Grief Support Group.
I had first been introduced to the Bereaved Families of Southwestern Ontario organization after my former partner and I went through three traumatic losses trying to start a family.
We attended the pregnancy & infant loss group with other couples who had experienced similar situations. It is tough to find the right words to describe it, as it was an emotionally rough time, both in my life and in the group. Though there was a lot of heavy feelings, and crying, the outcome of knowing that I wasn’t alone in these feelings was extremely beneficial.
However, like most people my journey did not end there. I found myself struggling with my mental health and sobriety for a few years. It wasn’t until during the pandemic I realized that I needed to make some changes in my life, and the opportunity to participate in the Men’s Grief Support group presented itself.
I had experienced first hand the lack of support and stereotypes most men are forced into in our society. “Man up, sit down. Chin up, pipe down. Socks up, don’t cry. Drink up, just lie.” It is largely still a taboo for us to talk about or question gender roles when it comes to grief. It is a burden which is assumed we must carry alone.
Finding myself in a place where I was trying to be proactive in bettering my mental health, I knew I needed to speak with other men about their own journey’s of grief. Even though I didn’t find that I was currently in a bad place or in crisis, I also wanted to help foster and support a much needed community.
Our co-facilitators were great at guiding us through introductions and sharing the stories which brought us together. Offering support and guidance along the way. I have found that being able to give my grief space outside of my own mind very helpful.
Hearing how other people have and continue to navigate their individual grief allows me to add context to my own story.
I can better understand my thoughts and emotions as they present themselves.
Whoa, heavy, right?
Simply put, family and friends mean a lot to me. However, there are some things I have been through in this life that they do not fully understand. Which is no fault of their own, it is because they haven’t had to deal with it in their lives.
I knew going into the this support group that it would be a safe and open space for people to share and understand each other.
I was not disappointed. Hearing our stories of sadness, frustration, anger and how life goes on if we are ready or not, gave me the continuing encouragement I need to be a better and stronger me.
I want to thank everyone involved in making it happen, as I feel we are all better for it.
Jun 3, 2021
This past January, my youngest son turned fourteen. The same day an ailing family member sadly passed away – despite having recovered from Covid-19 recently.
This day also marked one day shy of fifteen years since my pregnancy loss.
I have memories of my pregnancy loss, some faded, some vivid if I choose to recall them. Most of the time they are like photos tucked away that you never look at, but know are there. With my recent family loss bringing up buried feelings, this reflection came about.
I remember leaving the bright lights of the hospital with my husband feeling empty handed, retreating to the quiet darkness of our home in the wee hours, our toddler asleep under the care of a dear friend. She drove like the wind from out of town to help us in our time of need, our time of loss, thank God.
There’s an Italian saying, “La lingua va dove manca il dente.” The tongue goes to the missing tooth. As children we feel that empty spot with curiosity, with anticipation of it being filled in. As adults, the missing tooth symbolizes all the things, including people, we long to have back.
Pregnancy loss created a void. It eclipsed me. It was obscure. My loss was tangible, my body witness to it, but there was no funeral. No headstone. No marker except my memory.
Added to this at the time was an upended workplace and unsettled extended family matters. I wanted it deal with it by not dealing with it, all of it – personal and professional.
At times my feelings of loss and being lost were akin to a road map splayed across my steering wheel, a road map I was unable to understand on my own. I was not willing to stop and ask for help because I couldn’t control the help.
I didn’t want to be consoled for having a first-born already.
I didn’t want to be questioned, even shamed, for staying home a day.
And I didn’t want to be told that it would hit me hard later after the shock wore off.
All I wanted was someone to sweep my floor while I took a nap and closed the book on this chapter.
That was then.
More than ten years later a well-intentioned person suggested that I name my unborn child, talk about it more openly and participate in a group.
The name part I had done. I was not keen on talking though. I tried it once and it felt forced. The second time was a bit better although I kept it vague.
For me it was a logical conundrum. It was impossible to discuss what happened without the tangle of other personal matters. “To pull up the plant is to be showered in dirt.”
Around the same time, I confided in a friend about my hesitation.
She said, “You do this on your own time, how you want, if you want to.” This acknowledgement that there was no timeline or road map for expressing grief took away some of my guilt. It could take years, and that was okay. I could breathe. I could even cry for the first time since we left the hospital in 2006.
Living through a pandemic has unfortunately forced us to limit or set aside sharing our grief in person over the loss of loved ones at any age from any circumstance.
The traditional plans we made for our family member in February were changed completely to an intimate service for eight. At least we had that. The cards helped. The emails helped.
And yet it was difficult for the family. A dear family member remembered, but not quite fully honoured, not yet. No big funeral and luncheon. A death that likely will seem to many as intangible.
I tried hard to dismiss my pregnancy loss because I could. I tried hard to honour the loss of my family member when it was challenging to do so. The irony is as obvious as a headlight. It caused me to tremble. It caused me to awaken.
I remember my pregnancy loss with mixed feelings. The timing of my second pregnancy that I lost, overlaps with my third pregnancy, and birth of my youngest son.
I expect I will continue to grieve in this way – for the most part privately and hidden. Dealing with each instance of grief when it resurfaces.
And so it is.
Written by a community member of Bereaved Families of Ontario – Southwest Region with some details adjusted to support anonymity.
We hope that this members’ reflections are helpful to you, especially for those who may choose to grieve more quietly in private. You are not alone.
