RESILIENT GRIEVING
“A constant undertow of sorrow and loss pulled at us in everything we did. It came with us on weekends away. It was in the bed, ready to flow into dreams and wakefulness at any moment. It tugged at snatches of music transforming them into lancing memories that hurt again and again.”
It took time for Pryor to realise she was happy she’d had Alexander. That she wouldn’t take back the four months they’d had with him, even if it would erase the grief.
After a few months, Jim suggested they try for another baby. Pryor was terrified of forgetting Alexander; of replacing him. Of it happening again.
“Becoming pregnant so quickly felt like getting on an international flight soon after a major plane disaster. The odds were good, but crashes happen,” she writes.
But the hole Alexander left persisted, even as a new baby grew. A wise older woman who lost a baby at a similar age counselled Pryor that she wasn’t forgetting, but that her grief was leaning back enough to let in gratitude and appreciation for his life.
A former academic, Pryor doesn’t buy the KublerRoss stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. While it’s tempting to assign a neat framework of expectation, emotions don’t follow linear rules.
“I can see why people think it’s convenient, but I actually don’t think it’s the real world. I actually think it’s much more messy. You ebb and flow backwards and forwards.”
Occasionally, a stab of pain or panic would catch Pryor unawares. The terror of quiet from new baby Esther’s cocoon at her feet, as Pryor waited in the post office queue. Or the world going black in a neonatal intensive care ward, as the sight of a dark-haired babe dying without reason sent her crumpling to the floor. That happened 12 long years after Alexander’s death.
But mostly, she and Jim got on with life. With looking after their two children. With loving Esther when she arrived. Pryor prefers George Bonanno’s theory of resilient grieving – the idea most people grieve and continue to function. They don’t get over it, but they do change.