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Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Friday, July 18, 2014

Children and Death -- Contributor Post

Today, Jackie Monck from Accidentally Mommy pens a poignant piece about how children deal with death and how to help them.

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Loss is never an easy thing for adults. Even with our ability to comprehend the frailty and fleeting beauty that is life, our grief can overwhelm us. Not just when a fellow humanimal dies, either. Pets, and even the loss of other living organisms (See: my deceased grandmother's tangelo tree,) can cause us mourning that must be comprehended, processed, and eventually put to rest like the person/thing we're grieving over.

How does a child translate those feelings, though? How can we help our little people to be efficient in dealing with their grief, which can easily be misunderstood and misplaced?

Firstly, it all needs to be changed up depending on the age of the child. This can be difficult in multi-child households, because whilst trying to deal with one's own feelings, one must deal with the unique needs of each child. Those needs are not just age/comprehension based, either. They are also based on the personality of the child. Is your son a child who has his feet on the ground, often serious and thoughtful? Is your daughter a child who already has separation issues and grows very closely attached? Just as every child is unique and we cannot teach them all the same, we cannot expect them to all to be comforted by the same manner and technique.

It's not uncommon for a child to express their feelings in manners that are undesirable and hurtful. Small children, say, toddler age-- may skip routine activities, regress, or fret uncontrollably while older children can do the same, in addition to acting out aggressively.

I'm going to go ahead and let you in on a child psychologist's secret as the first step towards soothing the ravaged feelings of your little dude or dudette. Honesty.

Yep. That's going to be the first thing a child psychologist will try with your child if you find that you cannot improve the feelings of your teacup humanimal. Whether your child is six or sixteen, they will bring your child into a calm, serene, non-threatening environment, often with toys or art, and they will level. They will ask concise, honest questions, and they will answer return questions honestly, with examples of their own experiences.

That brings us to point two – self expression. Art, Legos, Tinker Toys, even Matchbox cars or Barbies can be the gateway to breaking apart the negativity that can often be expressed by a child who is in mourning. It redirects those feelings and gives them a manner of expression that can take on any form, instead of them feeling frustrated in non-pretend situations. Allow your child that little bit extra toy time, allow them to sing a little louder, allow more fingerpainting. These are outlets that they can use to express emotions that have very probably been building in them like steam in a pressure cooker.

Misunderstanding is also a common feeling that the child in mourning will experience. This again comes back to honesty. Don't tell them that Nana took a trip or that Fluffy ran away. Be honest. Don't tell them more than they need to know, and don't explain over their heads, but be honest. “I'm sorry, my darling, but Nana's body was tired.” A similar statement can be used for beloved pets. The objects, though, can be more difficult. In the case of my tree, my daughter was equally as heartbroken as I was. This was a treasured family heirloom, bringing to us physical nourishment as well as the emotional nourishment it provided by holding many happy memories. When asked why a seemingly perfect tree needed to be cut down and hauled away, with tears in my own eyes, I explained that like Nanny, all life is fleeting in the grand scheme of things. We are a spiritual family, so I informed her that my hope was that since all living things have spirit in them, that Nanny would be receiving the spirit of her tree in the afterlife, there for her to sit under during perpetual blossom for the scent of the flowers she loved so much.

Punishing a child who is actively grieving is a slippery slope, so generally my recommendation is DON'T DO IT. Like the fact that they can misunderstand the loss, they can misunderstand that they're being punished for their actions, not their feelings. Instead, uit has been my experience that sitting them down and talking out the situation and why the behavior is undesirable but the feelings are allowed is the best course of action.

For our small ones who aren't yet comprehending on that level, helping them through their mourning can be ten times as difficult. I have found that there is a very simple first step – be there for them. Physically, make sure to touch and hug and cuddle frequently. Babywearing very young children, temporary co-sleeping, daily and momentary cuddling – these are all things that release the neurochemicals that are key to helping them at this stage. (Yes, processing grief even has a biological aspect, but this blog isn't long enough for that to be explained today.)

Socially, do not stop talking about said person and thing. On terms that they will understand, explain that life is temporary. Don't put photos away, rather, take the time to remember out loud. It will be good for everyone involved, as love begets love, and love begets healing.




Friday, March 8, 2013

Smart911

Remember when I almost choked to death in front of my kids? Yeah, fun times. Well, since then, I think a lot more about what we would do in an emergency and how I can make sure the girls are protected.

Yes, I installed a blaringly red and huge 9-1-1 button on my phone and taught the girls how to use it. But in a high stress situation, will they be able to get out a coherent message at four years old? Maybe not.

And I know 9-1-1 has tracking now, so that hopefully they'd find the right place. But what if it wasn't an emergency where the girls had any control?

What if someone broke in and I could call the number but not talk? What if there was a fire and everything was too hectic for descriptions and whatnot? Any number of things could happen in which emergency responders having my family's information at their fingertips could be very helpful.

So I signed up for Smart911.

Here's the blurb from their website:

Smart911 is a free service that allows citizens across the U.S. to create a Safety Profile for their household that includes any information they want 9-1-1 to have in the event of an emergency. Then, when anyone in that household dials 9-1-1 from a phone associated with their Safety Profile, their profile is immediately displayed to the 9-1-1 call taker providing additional information that can be used to facilitate the proper response to the proper location. At a time when seconds count, being about to provide 9-1-1 with all details that could impact response the second an emergency call is placed could be the difference between life and death.

Now, I admit, I felt a little squidgy posting that personal information up. But the site is secure, and honestly, all the internet cookies and sales trackers know everything about me anyway. It's not like I'm giving anyone anything new. I just put it all in one place. Privacy on the internet isn't really a thing that exists unless you work really, really hard at it. Like harder than you think you're working (I learned this in my mass comm classes).

Anyway, you might want to check into it for your family. Anything to help, right?

Smart911 info here.


 

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

If You Die or Come Close to It, Are Your Kids Prepared?

If you die suddenly, do your kids know what to do?

 Mine wouldn't have, and as I saw everything starting to fade, all I could think was, they'll be here with me all day. Who will feed them? Who will explain this to them?

I almost died last week. I almost choked to death. It wasn't the 'haha, you swallowed your water down the wrong pipe kind of choking,' either. Something full-on blocked my trachea.

 Thank God it was toast.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. It's just as it's always described. I managed to get up and walk to the toybox area before falling to the ground. I had expelled all my air at that point, trying to cough it back up before it settled fully in my throat. Perhaps the impact of my chest against the ground dislodged it just a bit, because I was able to think, breathe in. I know you don't want to, and your body is telling you not to, but you must breathe in.

So I tried. I got just the tiniest, most insignificant trickle of air into my lungs, and using that and my hands on my diaphragm, I managed to get it out.

It didn't shoot out, like when someone does the Heimlich on someone else. It just barely moved, and it took a lot more coughing to clear it. For hours, I wasn't sure if the piece had gone up or down, but when I had no aspiration problems, I assumed it must have come up.

But what if it hadn't?

My two three-year-old kids would be left staring at me and trying to get me to respond for hours. Eight hours. Until my husband came home from work. They couldn't get out for help. They can't unlatch the front or back door. Childproofing that's normally for my convenience, now working against me. They couldn't call anyone. I have a smart phone and they have no idea how to use it. Again, a measure for my convenience, that spelled disaster in an emergency.

After this, I taught them how to unlock the phone. I downloaded an application that put a huge 9-1-1 button on the dashboard. Because with the cell phones these days, it's not as simple as dialing 9-1-1, is it? The kids have to get to the phone part, first. This takes that step out of the way.

I might plug in a house phone, too. What if my cell is on a high shelf if this ever happens again? The girls need to be able to get help, if not for me, for them.

I told them to go out to the porch and yell and scream as loud as they could if this happens in the future.

My husband has taken to calling at least once a day to check to make sure we're all still breathing. Literally.

It took me all day to get the feeling back in my legs. My kids now point to the toybox area when one of them talks with food in her mouth.

"Remember," they say, and they point. "Like mommy."

Remember is right. I'm absented-minded. I never consider these things could happen to me. I am wrong. If you haven't taught your kids emergency measures by the time they're my kids' age, you should.

A meeting place for a fire, emergency numbers, how to dial the phone, a neighborhood house to run to. All these things should be in place.

Because you never know.

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