Today's guest, Catherine, says that in many ways, she grieved for her daughter, Helen, not once but twice. The grieving began after she suffered complications during delivery, which led to seizures that began shortly after birth and multiple medical complications. Catherine grieved for the life she had hoped and dreamed of for Helen. Then, fourteen years later, Catherine's grief started fresh when Helen died unexpectedly in her sleep.

Although Catherine says that she grieved Helen twice, Helen's 14 years were not years full of sadness and grief. They were joy-filled years. Catherine loved being Helen's hands and feet. She loved seeing her eyes light up and give big smiles. Catherine was a part of Helen, and Helen was a part of her. One day, when Helen was young, the two of them were watching TV, and Catherine saw the inspirational story of Team Hoyt, a father-son duo who competed in over 1,100 races, including numerous Ironman Triathlons. Son Rick suffered from cerebral palsy, but said that when racing in a specialized wheelchair with his dad, Dick, he felt freedom and joy.

After Helen died, Catherine felt lost. She did not know what to do with herself without Helen being beside her. When asking her priest for advice, he answered that he didn't know what she should do, but that for many, participation in sport could be a good healing modality. That's when Catherine began to think once again about the inspirational story of the Hoyts. She knew that she couldn't physically swim, run, and bike with Helen, but perhaps she could still be with her emotionally. That's exactly what Catherine did. Her first triathlon was done almost secretively, with only her husband's knowledge. As she waited in the water of the lake at the beginning of the race, wondering if she had made a mistake in signing up, until the sun began to rise, and she felt Helen with her.

Over the years, Catherine has continued to train and now races in an Ironman triathlon each year, following in the Hoyts' footsteps. She compares the training to her life, first as a mom of a special needs child and now as a bereaved mom. She chronicles her journey in her book, Finding My Stride: A Guide to Finding Power Raising a Child with Special Needs.

Belief expansion. As they navigate life, all adults develop a core set of beliefs. When tragedy strikes, sometimes these core beliefs can be shaken. Some grieving people lose their sense of spirituality, while others gain a deeper, stronger faith after experiencing trauma.

Dave was trained as a therapist, but nothing in his training prepared him for his 18-year-old daughter, Jeannine's cancer diagnosis and death. He grew up in the Christian church with some Christian traditions, but Dave's core values and beliefs were grounded in science. Dave realized in the months and years after Jeannine's death, he needed more. Science alone did not bring him the comfort or peace he needed.

Dave says by pure serendipity, an interfaith minister named Patty entered his life. (I like to think this was by divine intervention, but I digress.) Dave had a spiritual experience with Patty that changed his life forever. Over the next ten years, Dave began exploring more and more ideas of spirituality with Patty and others. Dave said that he began to realize he did not have to abandon his core beliefs and values to adopt additional beliefs that aligned with and complemented his perspective.

Dave now asks himself, "What can I add here that is going to help me get through this part of my life?" He truly feels that if he had continued in the old set of beliefs that he had when Jeannine died, he would not be where he is today. Dave said, "My journey demanded that I needed to embrace different perspectives about how I saw myself, how I saw the world, and how I saw my values if I was going to reengage in life again while still honoring my grief."

Dave wrote a book about his experiences and conversations with Patty called, 'When the Psychology Professor Met the Minister," available on Amazon. He also now hosts a podcast, The Teaching Journeys (listen for me on an upcoming episode). On the podcast, Dave continues his own journey of belief expansion by learning from the stories of others who have experienced challenges in life. Dave says, "We are all students and teachers...let's learn from each other." I cannot think of a more amazing way to learn.

Near the end of today's interview, my guest, Miranda, said one of the most beautiful sentences that I have ever heard from a bereaved mom, especially one who is only 9 months into her grief journey. Miranda said, "Denver's death is going to be my reason, not my excuse - my reason to get up, my reason to do, my reason to survive, and my reason to love."

Denver was a happy, healthy toddler who had just celebrated his first birthday when he died from accidental suffocation while he slept. His birthday theme just weeks before had been 'One Happy Dude,’ so Miranda and her family used the decorations for his funeral. His funeral was full of yellow smiley faces and lots of bright colors. The family handed out smiley face pins at the funeral.

Every summer, their hometown of Medicine Hat, Alberta, has a hot air balloon festival. This year, Miranda had the idea that one of the pilots might be able to take a picture of Denver up in a brightly colored hot air balloon during he festival. By the time the festival began, all thirty hot air balloons contained pictures of Denver. Many of the balloonists are international and continue to bring the picture of Denver with them as they fly all over the world. This month, Denver's picture is flying with a hot air balloon over Italy.

I have shared many times about bringing Andy's teddy bear with us as we travel to help us have a symbol of Andy with us. Continuing to live and make happy memories without him is challenging. Living without Denver's smile and laugh each day is extremely difficult, yet Miranda continues to get up and try. She, too, often travels with a little teddy bear she can hug when the pain of missing Denver feels too great.

Miranda's goal is to try to keep on living in the best way that she can - her reason to live and not her excuse. Each day still contains tears for Denver, but the tears no longer flow all day. She tries to look for smiley faces around her as she thinks of Denver's little picture flying in hot air balloons. Every time I see a hot air balloon, I will wonder if a little bit of Denver might be up there in its basket.

When today's guests, Andy and Kristen, lost their almost 2-year-old daughter due to complications after a seizure 2 years ago, their lives completely changed. There was life before Juniper died, and there was life after Juniper died. Before Juniper died, they had two young girls in daycare. Days after Juniper died, their older daughter, Macie, started public school, and Juniper was gone. There was no longer a need for a daycare.

They were suddenly navigating a world where they were bereaved parents. It was as if they were suddenly living in an alternative universe. Years before Juniper's death, Andy had watched his aunt and uncle mourn their son after he died in a car accident. Andy now realized that he didn't have a clue about what they had gone through - the pain that they felt each day.

Andy and Kristen found themselves looking to other bereaved parents for support. They joined their local Compassionate Friends chapter and became regular listeners of the podcast. I sometimes have doubts about continuing to produce the podcast each week. It is certainly a labor of love, but it does require a lot of work, and sometimes, when listener numbers falter or donations stop for several weeks at a time, I wonder if the time for the podcast has passed.

Then, I hear beautiful words like I heard today, and I realize that even though most of my guests have never spoken to each other, we have created a community of grievers. Before ending my conversation with Andy and Kristen today, Andy shared, "For all of the other parents who have been on the podcast and are now listening, we have cried for your children. We have mourned for your children because we know how it feels. We have heard them."

Kristen says that early on in their grief journey, they knew that someday, they would want to share Juniper's story on the podcast. Today, almost two years later, is that day. Now, Andy and Kristen can know that all around the world, other bereaved parents are truly hearing them. They are crying for Juniper and mourning her as well. And for me, that is all that truly matters.

I have often said that different people grieve differently. Today's guest, Lori, adds a new twist to that statement. She lost two of her four sons almost 30 years apart from each other, and she is grieving so much differently now than she did the first time around, showing that the same person can grieve similar losses differently as well.

The stories of Michael and Logan's deaths are far different. Michael died at age 2 of an aggressive type of cancer called neuroblastoma. He died after 9 months of treatment in his mother's arms at the hospital, which she says gave her time to say goodbye, but also forced her to watch him endure pain and suffering. Twenty-five-year-old Logan, on the other hand, died suddenly from an accidental drug overdose in his apartment. Logan was there one day and gone the next.

Lori says that after losing Michael, she became an extremely compassionate person. She and her husband turned to each other for support. Loris describes him as her rock. She was very involved in church, turning to her faith to help ease the intense pain of loss. Over the years, Lori says that her biggest fear was that she might lose another one of her three remaining boys, but despite Logan's long history of mental health struggles, she did not ever think this would happen to them again.

Then, 18 months ago, the unimaginable occurred - Logan died, too. After Michael died, compassion emerged. This time, however, fear and anger are the dominant emotions. She has trouble going out in public. Lori hasn't gone to church, and her faith feels broken. Her relationship with her husband has been damaged, and she has moved in with her two living sons, who are now her two rocks. Online support groups and podcasts have become her coping strategies.

These vastly different responses may seem surprising. I know they were unexpected to Lori, but there is a lesson here.

Grace. We need to give others and ourselves grace. We cannot control our feelings or our responses to grief. We need to feel our emotions, whatever they may be, and work through them. Through hard work, hope for the future may come again, for Lori and for us.

Livestreams with Gwen are back! This week's livestream topic was to be about the fact that we are living in two worlds - longing to live in the past while dealing with our messy lives in the present. I talk about my struggles of missing Andy while trying to be the happy mother-of-the-groom at Valeriano's recent wedding. This conversation quickly morphed into another topic.

Respite.

First, is it OK to take a break from your grief? And second - where do I find respite when I need a break from my grief? My answers - First - YES! And Second - walks outside in the sunshine, riding in our boat, listening to birds while on my deck, listening to music, reading a good book, and playing board games with family or friends.

The most important point is this. It is OK (and actually GOOD) to take a break from your grief. Many grieving parents feel like they need to feel their grief all the time. Every book they read is about grief. Every podcast they listen to is about grief. Days are filled with therapy and support groups. While all of these things are great, breaks are needed. Our bodies and minds cannot handle the constant pain of grief. I remember in those early days feeling like I needed to feel the pain constantly. If I started to laugh or even smile, I would remind myself that Andy was dead, and the smile would disappear.

As the seven-year anniversary approaches next week, I feel the heaviness begin to worsen again, but I have learned that the best way to get through these difficult days is to take some time away from the pain as well. I will have intentional times with my family to talk about and remember Andy. There is an upcoming 5K race where 25 of my co-workers will be wearing Be Still bracelets as they run to support our local FitKids program. But there will also be time for me to have respite. I will spend time reading a book and listening to birds outside on my deck. I will play golf and go boating. Hopefully, I will be able to convince my family to play a board game with me.

Finding this balance is what gives me the strength to continue on each day.

Since becoming a bereaved parent, several phrases have irritated me. One of the most bothersome things people say to me is, 'You are so strong. I could never do what you do.' I feel like that suggests they don't think they need to help me—that I can handle everything on my own without assistance. When I first heard about today's guest, Cristi, and the 'Mentally STRONG' method she developed, I wasn't sure if I would like it. However, because Cristi lost not just one, but three children, I thought I should give it a try.

After our conversation, all my doubts melted away. When Cristi talks about being mentally strong, she doesn’t mean being a resilient hero doing everything alone. Instead, Cristi teaches people to face their grief and sorrow directly, in community with therapists and other grieving individuals. As a psychiatric nurse practitioner, Cristi believed in cognitive behavioral therapy and the power of positive thinking. But after losing her adoptive son Johnny to drowning and seeing her son Reggie—and later daughter, Miah, and husband, Bundy—suffer from DRPLA, a terrible degenerative disease, Cristi realized that simply thinking positively was not very helpful for those grieving.

We can’t just 'look on the bright side' and think positive thoughts after losing our children. That isn't realistic or natural. Cristi understands this too well. She writes, "Grief can feel overwhelming, like a weight that never lifts. It consumes your thoughts, leaves you feeling lost, and makes it hard to get through the day. It's an unpredictable journey that pulls at your heart. But in these moments of deep sorrow, there is space to feel, process, and find a path toward healing."

The Mentally STRONG method isn’t a quick fix for deep grief, but it can help you face and work through your grief. It can help you find purpose in life again. If Cristi can find purpose and experience joy after losing Johnny, Reggie, Miah, and Bundy, so can we.

For more information and access to her book and documentary, visit mentallystrong.com.

Today's guest, Jody, worked as an actor on Broadway for a year, but nothing had ever prepared her for the role she was required to play after the birth of her firstborn daughter, Lueza. After a completely unremarkable pregnancy, Jody suffered severe complications during childbirth, resulting in significant brain injuries for Baby Lueza.

After suffering from horrible seizures as a young infant, they were able to stabilize little Lueza. Once they did so, she began to show a smile that would light up a room. Still, Lueza had significant delays. She could not sit, eat, or talk independently. At one point in time, Jody remembers looking at her husband and saying, "Will Lueza ever be able to sit up on her own?" Her husband's answer stuck with her: "She may be lying down, but she may be very happy."

Over the years, Lueza proved her Dad right. She continued to be 'lying down,' but she was always very happy. She loved music, movies, and roller coasters. She would laugh and squeal and could let her family know what she did and didn't like with the slightest head movements. And her smile continued to light up the room.

Lueza had a profound effect on many people around her as she interacted with doctors and nurses in the medical community and her teachers at school. Over time, Lueza slowly developed more complications and died suddenly at home one night after getting what her family thought was only a little cold.

Then, Jody's life changed once again. She was no longer the mother of a medically complex child. She was now a bereaved mother. There were no more hospital visits. The medical equipment was no longer needed in the family home. Jody began doing arts and crafts as a form of healing. She attended spiritual support groups for bereaved parents. Most importantly, Jody began to write.

Jody wrote a memoir about her life with Lueza that was years in the making. The title of the memoir was so fitting - 'She May Be Lying Down, but She May Be Very Happy.' This memoir was a story of her life with Lueza and a heartfelt thank you to all the people who had helped her over the years. A beautiful tribute for a beautiful girl.