Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Friday 21st May: "So how are the girls?"

"So how are the girls?" is the question I get asked a lot at the moment. The quick answer is they are doing well, given the circumstances. When it comes to grief in children, I go by a 'better out than in' principle which may or may not be sound psychological practice. I don't care so much how their grief is coming out as long as it comes out somehow.


K, at age 4, has right from the start done most of her grieving through play. This was particularly the case in the first 2 months after Salome's death, when K engaged in hours of ruthlessly accurate death-related play. Before Salome's birth K had done a lot of birth-related play, and in the week leading up to Salome's birth K was "birthing" 3 or 4 toys per morning, complete with labour pains and shouting. In the first month after Salome's death K had her beloved bear S in a cardboard box, and she dragged it around with her everywhere. K told us S was very very sick and had lots of tubes attached to her. K would refuse to come to the table to eat meals because she needed to stay with S because S might die. The girls' bedroom became a NICU, with other toys were set up around S's cot so the other toys could help care for S too. K did a lot of vomiting noises, and told us S was getting worse and not better. It was important for K that I interact with her about this play. I tried not to shut the death-related play down, but sometimes her play was too accurate for me and it felt like groundhog day. If I moved to another room K would follow me with S in her cardboard box NICU cot, and would try to get me to talk to her about whether or not S would die. Sometimes with a tone of "MY baby isn't going to die because I am looking after my baby VERY WELL and I am taking GOOD CARE OF HER" said with stern reproaching looks to me. Hour after hour, day after day, this was a little hard to take. About 3 weeks after the funeral, the death-related play changed, and the lid was firmly placed on the box with S inside, which was heartbreaking to watch. Then all the toys in the house got put in boxes with the lids on them, and when K ran out of boxes she started putting toys in saucepans with the lids on them. Then for a while the lid was on and off the box with S in it, and K sometimes reported that S was starting to get better. Then the box with S in it started to be other things, like a car, a bus or a picnic space. I remember though that it was a long time until S was out of that box regularly and how happy I felt when K announced that S wasn't going to die and was definitely going to get better.


X, aged 5 1/2, is much more of a talker, as well as more of a worrier and a stewer. For example, last Monday she asked me "Mamma, now that Salome is dead can we have her stuff?" What she was after was Salome's clothes to put on some dolls. She accepted my response of "NO!" and I have promised to get her some more doll clothes from somewhere. Below of some of the other themes in X's talk about Salome:

The other family: X has her own views on the afterlife and Salome's death, and as with X's views on anything, these are strong opinions firmly held. A few days after Salome's death, X started to talk about Salome's other family in heaven. X told me that Salome has a new nuclear family in heaven, consisting of people X knows of who have already died. X told me Salome's mummy and daddy in heaven are Nanna and Grandpa Charlie (my maternal grandparents, Annie and Charles who died only last Oct). X asked repeatedly whether Nanna was any good at breastfeeding babies. My Mum assured X that as a mother of 6, Annie was good at breastfeeding and loved babies, so Nanna got the nod as the mother figure in heaven. X said Salome's grandparents in heaven are Pappa's mummy and daddy (my paternal grandparents Sheila and Charles) who X doesn't know the name of but talks about as 'those people in the photos at Nanni and Pappa's house". X said this heaven-based nuclear family also had a dog, Cobar who was my brother's lovely old cattle dog who died a few years ago. X developed a strong narrative about this other family, and talking about what they were doing minute by minute was everyday conversation for her. I must admit sometimes this gave me the shits too. For example I would be in the shower with X and she would say "I think in heaven Nanna has already given Salome a breastfeed, because Salome is only a baby and she needs someone to give her breastfeeds. And now Nanna and Grandpa Charlie are given Salome a bath too. So Mamma you don't need to worry about Salome because Nanna and Grandpa Charlie are giving her her bath tonight." Sometimes hearing this would make me get teary, and X would try to comfort me by broadening out the narrative and telling me what else the other family had been up to during the day. This strategy, though well intentioned, was rarely effective. Sometimes this would make me cry even more, and i would try to change the subject and x would say "Mamma I can hear you are talking with your crying voice. I don't like that crying voice. I think I will tickle you to make that crying voice stop." These images X gave me have stayed with me, and they were part of that 'personalised film clip' I wrote about back in the blogpost on 20th April.

The diorama: About 6 weeks after Salome's death, X's class was given a homework project of making a diorama. X was asked to choose something living (plant or animal) and work with a grown-up to make a depiction the environment that thing needs to live, including food, habitat, stimulation needed etc. The first time I asked her what living thing she wanted to depict she instantly said "Salome".
Long awkward silence, with me silently chanting 'better out than in, better out than in'. Then I said "But your project is suppose to be about a living thing. I think there might be a problem doing Salome. Can you think what that problem might be?"
X said "Salome's dead?"
"Yes" I replied, "Salome is not a living thing now. You and I are living things, but Salome is not living any more."
"But Salome is living in heaven. I want to do my project on what she needs to live in heaven." There was not a lot I could say back to this, suspended as X is in a world of catholic imagery about the afterlife. I didn't want to mess with whatever view of the life after death she has, but I also felt nauseous at the idea of completing a diorama about Salome.
I talked to my counsellor Jane about it, and she thought that X might benefit from having her view of Salome in heaven depicted in a concrete visual way. Jane suggested that making a diorama about Salome in heaven might be calming for X, and X can keep it in her room. "Think of it as making a shrine to Salome" said Jane, and I thought yes I can see the wisdom in that. We might have to do a whole other diorama to take to school, but I can see the value in X making a Salome diorama. I started to think about what we would need to make the diorama / shrine, such as photos of my grandparents and of Cobar. Soon after I said to X "Hey X we better get started on that diorama about Salome. What will we need to get?"
X replied "I don't want to do my diorama about Salome. I want to do it on dinosaurs."
By that stage I has psyched myself into the task so much that I was disappointed that X had pulled the plug on it so I said "Well dinosaurs are dead too, so they're no better." X wasn't committed to the dinosaur idea either and in the end we made a fairy penguin (see post from 18th March for photo).


Auditioning for replacements: X has often tried to comfort me by telling me I will see Salome soon when I die. If she catches me crying, she says "Don't be sad Mamma. When you die you'll go to heaven and you'll see Salome there and then you can give her a cuddle. You'll see Salome soon." Noble sentiments, or so I thought. About 7 weeks after Salome died, X added a few extra words onto this that put it into sharper perspective:

"I am sad because Salome is dead. It's alright for you. You're going to die soon and then you'll see Salome in heaven. But I am not going to die for a long time and so I won't see Salome for a long time. And anyway, after you are dead who will Daddy's next wife be? Can I pick who it is because I don't want it to be anyone nasty."
OK. This shone a new light on this matter.
" Why do you think I am going to die soon? I am very healthy. I'm not going to die soon, Love." says I.
"How do you know you are not going to die soon? Because sometimes dying is a big surprise to people" says X. This was a line from a book about death we had been reading as a family. After telling X over and over that sometimes people die unexpectedly, I didn't feel like I could give her a 100% guarantee that I wasn't going to die. So I diverted her (unsuccessfully) "And anyway, why do you think it is me who will die?"
"Mummies die first and then there is a new wife" she says. There followed a discussion about the occurrence of maternal death and evil stepmothers in literature, and for a while after that we banned the reading of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and The Wild Swans. I am still giving a wide berth to the whole Brothers Grimm genre, because they sneak evil stepmothers in everywhere.

Get on with it: X wants us to have another baby, and she started petitioning for this the day I came home from hospital after Salome died. "Mamma, you don't take that medicine that stops people having babies. You need to have another baby and when it is a girl we will call it Salome. Make another baby right now." A few weeks ago I got nauseous from a virus, and when X saw I was off my food at dinner she was ecstatic. She shouted "You have a baby in your tummy! Hurray! Hurray!' and then she put her mouth on my tummy and shouted "Helloooooooooooo!" She was sad when I told her there was no baby in my tummy, and she has accepted it. For now.

All these above were uncomfortable but there has only been once when something X has said has really upset me, and that was when I snapped at her about something trivial and then she saw me crying and said "It's OK Mamma. I know you loved Salome more than me. I know that because I see how sad you are that she is dead." That really really upset me. That is a whole layer of fucked up that I DIDN'T SEE COMING!!!!!! It took me a while to gather myself enough to talk that through with her. When I told I would just as upset if she died, she didn't believe me.
So the girls are I think doing OK for 2 little girls grieving the loss of a sibling they hardly knew. X benefits a great deal from her time with the school chaplain. K's dolls and stuffed toys still vomit constantly but none of them are in NICU. I am sticking with my 'better out than in' principles. I am very proud of how X and K have responded to their sister's death, and even when it makes me flinch their 'realness' about what is going on is inspiring. They help me get through.

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