A Time To Grieve

The hardest thing by far for me as a parent is that helpless feeling I have when my children are in pain. I would do anything to take their hurt, or sorrow, or sadness away.

Which is why the hardest part of our move to Ohio has been the grief it has caused my children.

I think forever in my memory will be the day we told the kids we would be traveling to Cleveland to see if it could be a place we would be willing to live. The opportunity for my husband came quickly and without warning, especially to the kids. Originally there was silence and processing. There was disappointment and worry. But overall, it had gone better than I had expected.

A few hours later, I had taken the kids to swim lessons and was waiting out by the pool for Isabella to come out of the changing room. I looked up and saw my beautiful blond-haired blue-eyed girl running toward me, tears streaming down her face, choking back sobs. She threw her arms around me and began to cry.

My mind raced. Did she stub a toe? Did someone in the changing room say something mean? What, Isabella? What is it?

She could hardly spit out the words between her sobs.

I don't want to move. Please don't make us move.

My instinct in this moment was to immediately tell her it was going to be OK. I wanted to tell her not to cry. That this was going to be a fun adventure. I wanted to get her to focus on all of the positive the job promotion for Daddy was going to provide for our family. Essentially, I didn't want her to hurt. I wanted to take away the pain.

But the truth is, my little girl was grieving. And she had every right to feel the things she was feeling. Because I was feeling them, too.

And so I held her tight. I didn't say anything for a long time. I just let her cry and cry and cry and cry.

I listened as she told me how she didn't want to leave her friends.

I know, Isabella. It will be very hard to leave them.

I listened as she said she would miss Grandma, and Grandpa, and Papa D and Pop Pop, because we won't be able to see them whenever we want.

I know, Isabella. It will be hard to be so far away from the people we love so much.

I listened as she said she really wanted to go to her new school and be with her best friend.

Yes, Isabella. I know. I know.

I listened as she said she didn't want to move far away to a place she didn't know. She didn't want to not know anybody and have to make new friends. Please Mommy. I don't want to go!

I know, Isabella. I know. It will be hard. It is scary. We will miss our friends so so much. And it is OK to cry. It is OK to feel sad. It is OK to grieve.

As a mom, I want to take the pain away from my children. These past weeks I have wanted to take it away when my kids clung tightly to their best friends and cried and cried the night before we left. I wanted to take it away when my son told me before he went to sleep that he just wanted to go back to Colorado to be with his friend and that he was feeling "sad in his heart". I wanted to take it away when my 14-month-old baby leaped out of my arms in effort to reach into the computer toward Grandma as we were Skyping and then scream and cry as I pulled her away from the screen so her older brother could have a turn talking.

I want to take it away. But I can't.

There is a time to give hope. There is a time to give reassurance. There is a time move forward and focus on the new.

But I have learned through this immensely emotional time for my family, that there is a time for all of us, children included, to grieve. And that is important, too.