All the Things I Grieve

The term “secondary loss” was one that I was unfamiliar with until after I lost my daughter. Secondary losses are all of the additional losses that happen as a result of the loss of a loved one, and I have experienced many. Secondary losses are also things to be grieved. Here is a list, which is not all inclusive, of the secondary losses I grieve.

• I grieve the loss of my former identity.
• I grieve the loss of my body. (While all women go through changes in their body as a result of pregnancy and childbirth, I spent two years living in my new postpartum body with no living children. It is difficult for me to separate my changed body from my grief journey, even though my body also changed again over the course of my pregnancy with my rainbow baby.)
• I grieve the loss of my innocence.
• I grieve the loss of the mother I thought I would be, the mother I can no longer be because I am a mother who knows firsthand loss.
• I grieve the loss of how I relate to “normal” non-loss mothers.
• I grieve for my son, because he was born into a loss family. He has inherited many loss-related difficulties (e.g. deciding how to handle sibling day at school).
• I grieve the losses of friendships. And even friendships that are not lost feel irreversibly changed.
• I grieve the loss of simplicity in my life. (Like small talk, or how many stockings our family should have for Christmas, or how many names to include on our holiday cards).
• I grieve the loss of purely joyful holidays.
• I grieve the loss of the way I used to see the world.
• I grieve the loss of my certainty in my faith. I still have my faith in God, but it feels different. I grieve the relative simplicity of my prior faith.

I have experienced many secondary losses, but I have also grown and changed in some areas that I am thankful for. While I lost many things, I found others. I will say I am the most thankful for my newfound understanding of my values, my growing courage to actively seek peace and authenticity, and my ability to care a LOT less about what other people think of me. I love that I don’t feel the need to look perfect every day. I no longer wear make-up, and I have stopped coloring my hair. I have a greater love of my own natural appearance (for example, I love the natural texture of my hair now, whereas before I used to feel compelled to straighten it). I don’t always feel these newfound things, but they are certainly present often. It is an interesting dynamic to actively grieve while simultaneously growing in self-compassion.