Gratitude and Grief

Mommy and Iris

Thanksgiving has historically had problematic beginnings, as we’ve all come to recognize. What most of us were taught growing up often overlooks the historical violence against Native Americans. I personally have learned to hold reverence for those truths, as well as space for the spirit in which Thanksgiving has evolved, and that was instilled in me growing up. I take time to decorate for the holidays, have a good meal with loved ones, and reflect on what I am so thankful for. And, even in this challenging season of life, there is still so much.

But I’m also faced with triggers. When people share how thankful they are for healthy children, it feels like they are saying, “I’m so thankful I’m not you.” Of course, I know this is only in my head. These thoughts don’t reflect how I feel about other people. They reflect the ache I carry. People should be proud of their families, proud of their lives. I genuinely believe that when most people share the things that make them happy, it is not meant to rub someone else’s face in it. That doesn’t mean it still isn’t a trigger; it can be all of those things.

After three years, I can honestly sit back and recognize that I have a good life. I am loved, supported, and safe. Challenges with parenting a rambunctious 7-year-old and medically-complex twins aside, I can find joy in my days and make time for things that matter to me outside of my family. I am thankful for this, and I believe my family is so strong and special.

But, grief is like the ocean. It is vast, mysterious, and it ebbs and flows. And sometimes, it knocks you off your feet even on a perfectly calm day. I live with anticipatory grief for my girls every day, and as more time goes by, I’m able to focus on the joys in their lives more prominently than I do the degenerative aspect of their disease. Then out of nowhere I experience an unfair comparison to the lives of others, like an intrusive thought. I see a happy little girl playing with dolls or being “sassy,” and I realize my own little Logan needs me to help move her fingers around her toys, and I feel the weight of all the things she works so hard for. I witnessed a dear friend of mine perform an adorable mother-daughter dance at her eldest’s sweet 16 party, and my heart ached knowing I might not get that opportunity with my Iris, who does genuinely love to sway with music. These triggers come out of nowhere like a crashing wave, and I’m pulled under with a pain that takes my breath away.

So yes, Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful and give thanks for what we have been given, as well as pay respect for what was taken from others. But I’m also finding myself more guarded, raw, and more sensitive these days. I must remind myself that my gratitude doesn’t have to be quantified by others. Gratitude isn’t a competition, and “she who has the most to be thankful for” doesn’t win a trophy. Gratitude doesn’t erase grief, and grief doesn’t cancel gratitude. While I am thankful for my husband, who I love and respect, someone else can be thankful for their fabulous single life. While I am thankful to have time to write and draw and be creative, someone else can be thankful for their dream job. While I am thankful for my beautiful children that I get to snuggle and laugh with each day, another woman can be thankful for their freedom or choice to be a wonderful auntie.

And while one mom is thankful for the health of her children, I can tell myself that I’m thankful her kids are healthy, as well. Because even though a rare disease is something we have learned to live with, I am thankful when other innocent kiddos can experience a childhood without it.

If this season feels complicated for you too, I get it. And it’s okay. Love, grief, gratitude, pain…these are complex emotions, and we are not-so-simple creatures. Be kind to yourself. Allow yourself to explore the source of your feelings. And take control of your joy and gratitude. I will be working on doing the same.

Happy Thanksgiving.