Hellobee

The holiday season is a hard time for a lot of people. For me, last year, it was equal parts joy — watching everything unfold in front of my two-year-old’s delighted eyes — and sadness, as we dealt with our third consecutive miscarriage just weeks before Christmas. I’m hugely grateful that we had M’s own enjoyment to focus on, as it turned out to be a big distraction for me at a time when, under all of the festivities and the family time and the light and brightness, I was hurting, deeply.

Last year felt too close, too raw, too soon, to really honour our losses in any significant way. I made and lit ice candles on the night of the solstice as a way to remind myself that darkness eventually turns to light, and I had some helpful conversations with a family member who had been through her own devastating loss, but that was all I could muster. I rang in the new year drenched in sadness, bristled at every adorable newborn photo on cards from friends and family, and did a lot of crying over how wrong Christmas felt, compared to what it was supposed to look like before we lost those babies.

This year, if everything goes the way everyone is assuring me it will, we will have a newborn baby at Christmastime. It will be hectic and loud and joyful and hopefully, healing. But I want to take the time out this year to honour our losses. For me, it doesn’t have to be a big, noticeable thing, but I’d like to quietly acknowledge all that our family has been through from one holiday season to another.

Find a Special Keepsake or Ornament

When I saw these angels from Ten Thousand Villages a month ago or so, I knew they were perfect. Last year I didn’t buy any ornaments to symbolize our losses, as it was one of those things that felt too daunting. This year I’ll be hanging these three — they’re all made from chipped porcelain dishes and I love the idea that something beautiful came from something broken.

I would like to make a donation in honour of our family, to an organization that supports other families through loss. I don’t know where to donate, yet, but I’m thinking about setting something up through the Ontario Pregnancy and Infant Loss Network. Another idea that makes sense to me is to donate to a local cause that helps children, whether it’s providing warm winter gear, funding holiday gifts, or stocking a food bank.

Light a Candle

The solstice ice candles I made and lit were surprisingly helpful for me last year. Part of my grieving was taking time out to think and work through my anxieties and anger, while keeping my hands and physical body occupied. It was sort of like meditating, for people who can’t actually still their bodies! So while I was going through the efforts of creating the candles, then taking them out and lighting them, I was able to spend some time alone with my thoughts, to process everything that had gone on that year. Lighting a candle feels, to me, like a hugely symbolic gesture — you are literally bringing light into darkness — and it has helped many times.

Attend a Memorial or Support Service

I did not do this last year and likely won’t this year, but I know our town does a Longest Night interdenominational service, also on the solstice. It’s specifically designed for people who have experienced loss, to ideally be comforted by the rituals, songs, and friendship that come along with the service. I suspect that larger cities and towns may even have pregnancy and infant loss support sessions that are centered around the holiday season, knowing that it can be a challenge for many families.

Take Time for Yourself

After all of the distraction of Christmas I fell apart, last year. I think I always get a bit of the post-holiday blues once the presents are unwrapped and everyone goes home, but the time after Christmas until I went back to work after New Year’s Day was particularly hard. I felt very alone, very fragile, and very much like I did not know what to do with myself. If you are going to be dealing with grief, loss, or sadness through the holidays I highly recommend finding some self-care strategies in advance, writing them down, and pulling them out when you need to take that time to acknowledge your feelings. Much like it’s perfectly okay to celebrate the season with joy through your sadness, it’s also okay to let your sadness sit with you awhile through the joy.

These are the things that come to mind, for me. If you’ve struggled through a festive season, owing to grief or sadness or some other kind of unsettling feeling, how did you take care of yourself?