Recently, I’ve watched dear friends walk through really painful and chronic disappointment and I thought it would be helpful to write about how to support those walking through disappointment.
Until you’ve walked similar journeys, it’s sometimes impossible to realize what others walk through on a daily basis.
When I was a teenager, our church prayed for a family whose daughter had been born with a hole in her heart. They were expected to be in the hospital for a long time and things were very touch and go for a while. I remember praying for them and then going about my regular activities. I felt glad that they were in the hospital where the doctors were. Obviously as a teenager, I couldn’t understand the weight of being new parents, not being home, not welcoming your child into the world the way you thought, the burden of the decisions, the blood draws, the countless vital checks, the racing thoughts of fear and anxiety.
Now, I have a totally different appreciate for what that family walked through. Their lives were turned upside down.
They needed prayers, absolutely. But for those months and months of days in hospital, I hope they also had friends come with their favourite coffee, I hope they had months of meals coming their way. I hope they had a Go Fund Me. I hope they felt encouraged and held.
For me and, I know, for so many others, hospital admissions are the harshest slap of disappointment. For most families, admissions are a rare experience but, for families with disabilities or medical complexities, it’s their regular reality. Things can go from lovely to life threatening in .01 seconds.
A child’s condition must be considered severe for it to be deemed medically necessary for hospital admission. And that severity is never ever lost on the family. Even if this is their 125th admission, even if it may seem like they’re well oiled machines, handling the stress so well…it’s a loss every single time.
Medical parents can pack a hospital bag for their entire family in record time. They likely know the names of a lot of the nurses and staff. They definitely have narrowed down the best sandwich spot in the hospital. They know how to advocate more intentionally and specifically for their child.
BUT
An admission for them, 5th or 500th, is never easier. Enduring the ER is awful - the trauma, the tests, the pokes, the constant questions, switching rooms, the lack of sleep, the endless vital checks, the days spent waiting for answers all while your child is crying in pain and just wants to go home. That’s just the hospital part. Then there’s going home….too often without concrete answers or solutions, likely to a fridge full of rotten food, groceries that need to be gotten, bodies that need to be bathed, loads upon loads of laundry needing to be done, extra needy and traumatized kids, overstimulated parents, a never ending to-do list, a lawn that needs mowed, meds that need refilled, eyes that need to close but have to stay hyper-vigilant for the sake of their kids.
They’ve eaten disappointment exclusively for the last however many days and now they’re feasting on overwhelm.
Welcome home.
Before Georgia, if you had asked me what I thought parents do in a hospital while their child is admitted, I probably would’ve thought they played solitaire, watched tv, and ate copious amounts of junk food. Why would they need to do anything else? The nurses and doctors are there to take care of the kids, right!?
How wrong I was. Children never need their parents more than when they’re in hospital. The kids want to be anywhere but there and they’re suffering. They need blood draws, multiple IVs, they need more tests and exams, they’re tired of the unfamiliar faces. For parents, The anxiety and decisions are heavy. Holding down your screaming, terrified child multiple times a day during tests or pokes is pure torture. Keeping your child calm is likely impossible. The hours of waiting for doctors to do their rounds or for test results feels like days. It’s a level of draining that sinks into your bones.
And, if you’re lucky enough, you don’t have to work during hospital admissions. But then you have to return, running on empty, to your job…until the next admission.
How unfair, right?! It’s absolutely too much and yet parents do this all too often…because they have to. Because they have no other choice. They’re super, for sure, but it’s not because they have supernatural abilities…it’s because there is no other way.
I use this example because we lived this lifestyle during Georgia’s life. I’m sure many people can think of a person in their life going through a long stretch of disappointment, maybe not in the way of hospital admissions but maybe a single mom, a friend who lost a family member, a co-worker who has been on sick leave for a long time. Often times, I think it’s easy to hope that walking the same road of disappointment gets easier and maybe we tell ourselves that so that we don’t have to reach out or help as often as we should.
How can we see past ourselves more? How can we extend ourselves to serve people going through their lowest seasons?
I do think it’s hard to really understand the ins and outs of a person’s specific situation but that’s where questions are so powerful. Asking questions about their days is a great start, imagining how you’d feel in the midst of their days and pressing in on their needs and heartbreak.
How can you show up?
I’ll first offer one caution for how you offer your support. Please don’t tell the person what you said “no” to in order to help them. Please do not tell them how many appointments you had to re-arrange to get there. Trust me, they feel bad enough for asking and you reminding them what you’re sacrificing just makes them feel even lower than they already are.
Next, when possible, take as much of the thinking off their plate. Say “I’m going to drop off a dinner for you on Friday,” instead of “Can I bring you a meal this week?” “I’d love to mow your lawn on Tuesday, would that work for you?” instead of “How can I help?” (If you know them well and they’re getting discharged from the hospital) “Apples, carrots, Honeynut cheerios, rotisserie chicken and milk….anything else I can grab you from the grocery store?” instead of “Let me know if you need anything”
I’ll share some of the ways our people loved on us in those days.
Lawn mowing, gardening, mail getting, coffee delivering. House cleaning. Fridge diving, dumping and cleaning. Grocery shopping. Pharmacy pick ups.
Decision fatigue is so real so ready made meals were a godsend. Meal subscriptions are the new way now - I firmly believe every family getting sent home from the hospital needs a box full of meals they just need poke and microwave.
Child care was the biggest need for us. Camilla needed so much one-on-one attention and that was too often impossible for us because of the level of care Georgie needed. During admissions, we had close friends and family take her for weeks at a time at some points but, even a few hours, was so helpful.
For people walking alongside someone going through a long season of pain/suffering/disappointment, it may seem draining to you to be continually leaned on for your help. There likely are people in their life that SHOULD be showing up and aren’t, which makes them turn to you more often. If that’s you, I just want to thank you, you’re doing holy, incredible work and making such a difference for that person/family. When someone is in crisis, saying “thank you” may be the last thing on their mind. I’m sure there were many people I didn’t thank enough for the generosity of their time, energy, and support. But I wanted to say that because helping and holding up people is often inconvenient, exhausting, and a lot and it’s so beautiful that you do that for them.
How have you been held up? What has been the most meaningful way someone has shown up for you? I’d love to hear all about it.
Also, if you haven't heard yet, I've started a podcast! So far, 3 episodes have been released and I've got so much more ready to come out. I'd love for you to follow along there too!
Have the best day.
Sarah
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