The Washington Post - 01.08.2019

(Axel Boer) #1
11
MD

the washington post


.
thursday, august

1
,
2019

BY MEGHAN LEAHY


Q: I have two kids who are


2 and 3. My mom has been


very involved in their lives,


which has been wonderful


for them. Now she has a


terminal illness. She’s not as


available to them, and she’s


physically different and


extremely fatigued. They


are obviously aware


something is wrong, and


we’ve explained as best we


can. I am also struggling,


but I am making sure to ask


for help when I am


overwhelmed. The kids are


fine most of the time, but


sometimes we get bursts of


tears, night waking or


meltdowns, which are


unusual in our family. We


let them get all the feelings


out, provide a lot of one-on-


one time and try to keep


things as consistent as


possible. Is there anything


else we can do to help with


what we’re going through


now and prepare them for


when she’s no longer here?


A: I am so sorry, this is an


extraordinarily hard ordeal. I


cannot tell you why, but my first


thought is that I want to switch


every pronoun in your question


from “we” to “I” and “me.” Here’s


the thing: This is your mom with


the terminal illness, and though


your children are deeply


attached to her, it is hard to


compare their potential loss to


yours.


I am not necessarily sure this


is your situation, but I often run


into parents who have lost or are


on the brink of losing a parent


and are unconsciously


transferring their fear, grief and


worry onto their children. By all


standards, the children are doing


fine, but the parent insists on


finding strategies, books or the


just the right thing to say to


guarantee that the kids will be


okay.


Is there anything wrong with


this transference? No, not really.


A good parent doesn’t want their


children to suffer, and you want
to help them now as well as after
your mother is no longer here.
That’s a loving parent. But
there’s no fixing this scenario.
There isn’t a way to heal your
mom, there isn’t a way to change
her appearance, there isn’t a way
to take away your children’s fear
or tears, and there isn’t a way to
predict what will happen when
she’s gone.
What can you do? Well, 2- and
3-year-olds are blessed with a
“here and now” mind-set. Your
children are living in the present,
and the permanence of death is
not a concept they can yet fully
grasp. I don’t know how close to
4 your older child is, but they
may begin to have death fears,
and again, that is
developmentally appropriate.
“Terminal disease” doesn’t
really mean anything to your
children, and so her changing
body may be met with some
confusion and fear. Don’t burden
the children with too many
details; the important point that
you continue to make is that you
are okay and the children are
safe. Welcome your children’s

worries and tears, and don’t
push the kids to visit, butalso
don’t hide your mother. Play it by
ear because, as you know, young
children’s emotions come and go.
It is also important to
remember that, because your
children are too young to
understand the details of what is
happening to your mom, they are
taking all of their cues from you,
as well as other important adults
in the house. As they say at the
Parent Encouragement Program,
“children are keen observers and
poor interpreters,” so if you are
distracted, depressed and angry,
your children won’t know it is
the grief. These preschool ages
are a myopic time of life. Young
children assume your behavior is
about them. I don’t want to place
undue pressure on your
shoulders, but when I see
children who are having sleep
problems, stomach problems,
and eating and toileting issues, I
always ask how the parent is
coping with this stress. All your
emotions run downstream to
your children.
With that in mind, here are
my ideas:

Experience your own feelings
of fear and loss with all the
support you need. Children can
handle an adult’s big emotions;
it all just needs to feel safe. Find
friends or a support group that
will give you the space you
deserve to process your own
feelings.
Only answer the questions the
children ask. Don’t volunteer
detail after detail. They cannot
process it.
Up the connection, and be
ready for some neediness.
Though this will be exhausting,
get ready for your kids to become
nervous, especially at night or
other times of separation. It is a
fine line of allowing them to
attach to your leg and pushing
them off, but try to increase the
physical proximity to ease their
nervous systems.
Encourage joy and play. Your
children’s emotions ebb and
flow, and young kids are still
amazed by everyday life. Join
them in this joy; it is incredibly
healing and uplifting.
Find a way for the children to
still connect to their
grandmother. Maybe they make

drawings or sing (while you
record it) or take funny pictures

... there are other ways to send
love.
Remember that tears are
nature’s way of moving grief
through the body. Children cry,
so try to welcome the tears
without too much interference.
Plant a tree or special plant for
your mother, and have the
children water it. It can provide
a nice time to touch on the grief
without going too deep.
When in doubt, go back to
number one.
Above all, have faith that you
can handle this hard transition.
Death is the one guarantee, and
how you model grief leaves an
indelible mark on your children.
Don’t be afraid to ask for love and
help — humans need it. Good
luck.


 Also at washingtonpost.com
Read the transcript of a recent live
Q&A with Leahy at
washingtonpost.com/advice, where
you can also find past columns. Her
next chat is scheduled for Aug. 7.
 Send questions about parenting
to [email protected].

ON PARENTING


My mom has a terminal illness. How do I help my kids cope?


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