Children

It’s a big step, moving to a new home, especially when it means uprooting your family. Children feel the upheaval and don’t often understand all the why’s and how’s. All they know is they’re being torn away from everything and everyone familiar.

Being the friend left behind can be difficult. Being the friend who had to make the move is even more difficult. At least the one left behind still has familiar haunts, other friends, and the same school.

We moved when I was eight years old. Leaving my very best friend in the whole entire world was harder than I could have imagined. It felt like we had disappeared to the other side of the world. Sure our new house was bigger, and I loved the view of the valley from our front porch. It didn’t stop the ache in my heart for familiar sights and sounds.

The friend who moves has a lot more to deal with: a new home, no friends, a new school to explore. It’s intimidating going up to complete strangers and asking if they’ll be your friends. Rejection is prepared for, though acceptance is always hoped for.

I was lucky. My teacher ‘assigned’ me to a little girl named Christa, who had a great big heart and accepted me right away. Being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (nicknamed Mormon Church) helped a lot as well. There in my Primary class I found even more friends, and soon settled into a fairly happy life.

It didn’t stop me from looking forward to each and every letter my very best friend in the whole world would send me from time to time. We were occasionally allowed to call each other, but this was never the same. As life continued, we eventually stopped writing altogether. This was natural, of course. We had to move on with our new lives. Keeping contact with her, even for that little while, helped me to deal with the loss of my old life.

I now live about half a mile away from where I lived all those years ago. Turns out it’s a whopping twenty minute drive to my parents’ house, not quite the other side of the world I had thought it was as a child. Whether you move around the corner or across the world, there are a few things you can do to make the transition easier for your child.

The invention of the Internet is an extraordinary blessing. Take advantage of the ability to send e-mails. If your kids are too young to write, sit down and help them type something up for their friend.

Let your child take pictures of your new area. Include one of your house, a local park, his new school, her new church. Encourage your child to send these pictures to friends over an e-mail, or through snail mail. It’ll be a great way to help him connect his old life with his new.

If you haven’t moved too far away, invite your child’s old friend(s) over for an afternoon. Let them explore the new house, yard, and neighborhood. Invite them to come to church. It’ll help your child look at his new area with new eyes.

What about those who’ve moved too far away for a visit? If you’re lucky enough to have a cell phone, let your child call when you’ve got some free minutes. Just hearing the voice of her best friend will do so much to lighten the emotional load.

Moving can be terribly difficult for a child. It does not, no matter how much he or she insists, have to be the end of the world.

The year 2000 was very difficult for my family. My husband and I were anxiously awaiting the newest addition to our family: a little brother for our then two-year old daughter. We realized she couldn’t fully understand why we had her talking to my belly so often. She only knew the act made us smile.

I woke up really early one morning to labor pains. Several hours later I held my baby boy in my arms while my husband, father, and older brother quickly placed their hands on his head and gave him a name and a priesthood blessing. As they removed their hands from his tiny head the doctor approached and declared his passing at 4:20 pm.

As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (also known as Mormon Church) we knew this was certainly not the end. Through the Plan of Salvation we realized this was, in all likelihood, something we'd agreed on before we came to earth. Not only that but we knew we'd have the chance to raise him again in the Millennium. At two-years old, however, there was no way our daughter could fully understand these concepts.

A week later I found my daughter standing on a chair. As I reached over to pull her down she patted my belly and said, “Hi baby.” I looked to my husband who stood in the doorway and tried not to cry. It wasn’t the same reaction she’d always had before, and she didn’t understand what was wrong. Needless to say, she didn’t do it again.

I wish I could say the hardships ended there. About four months later both my husband and daughter went over to his parents’ house to work in the yard for a time. His mother wasn’t feeling well, hadn’t been for quite a while, and went to lie down while he worked. About an hour later he was ready to go. Our daughter refused to leave before they said goodbye to Grandma one last time.

My husband said he knew even before he approached his mother that she was dead. He immediately yelled for his dad to call 911 and proceeded to do mouth-to-mouth, my daughter watching on. The next several minutes were spent in frantic confusion. He called me at home and told me to come, fast. I didn’t get there in time to save our little girl from seeing the paramedics come, put Grandma on a stretcher, and take her away.

For months afterward she was terrified of ambulances, certain they were going to take away another loved one. She had nightmares every night. We had to bring her into our bed, as she refused to stay in her room alone, and if she awoke during the night couldn’t go to sleep until she knew both of us were still there. It took several more months before she eventually went back into her own bed.

She kept asking to go see her grandma, and whenever we’d go to visit Grandpa she would call through the house for her. We tried to explain Grandma was up in heaven now. It didn’t occur to us that she didn’t understand where heaven was until we took a trip with Grandpa up to Idaho for a family reunion. Once we got to the motel, our daughter began to ask when we were going to pick Grandma up. Apparently she thought heaven was in Idaho.

Of course she’s several years older now, and has experienced a lot more loss through death. It hasn’t made the experiences any easier. She still feels the grief as best she knows how.

I bare all these painful memories to the world in order to give you one big message: there are times we, as parents, must put aside our own grief in order to help our children. We must never, ever make a child think what they are feeling isn’t important, or not as significant as the pain we ourselves are feeling.

Children will react to grief in different ways. My daughter needed us next to her at night. Another child I know of cried every time her mother disappeared from sight, even if it was just to walk behind the car. One darling little boy has seen so much heartache in his short life the only way he knows how to deal with it is through hitting.

Don't be afraid to take your child to a counselor. They are trained in how to help a child deal with tragic things like death. Above all, don't forget to include your Heavenly Father in how to help your child. His inspirations can go a long way to helping all of you deal with grief.

I know if my husband and I had not given our daughter the physical and emotional support she required at the time, things could have turned out so differently for all of us. I am so grateful our Heavenly Father helped us to help her during that difficult year.

One of the hardest questions for me to answer is, “How many kids do you have?” When we’re all piled on a bench together you’ll see my husband and me with four pretty cute kids. But someone’s always missing.

Early on in the year 2000 I gave birth to our second child – a boy who we named after his father. Unknown to us he had suffered what is called a diaphragmatic hernia while still in the womb. He lived only one hour and twelve minutes.

While in the ICU doctors, nurses, and paramedics all stood around as my husband, father, and older brother placed their hands on our baby’s head to give him a name and a priesthood blessing, thus sealing him to our family forever. A few days later we buried him. My other four children have never met him in this life, but this brother is very much a part of their lives. You can ask any one of them and they’ll tell you all about their brother.

In a later appointment my doctor told me when most of the couples he works with lose a child it’s beyond devastating. He's watched as the experience has ripped apart marriages. It breaks their spirits.

He then told me those who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints typically become stronger – both in their marriage and individually. This has much to do with what has been revealed by latter-day prophets from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormon Church as it is also known.

One of these revelations tells us we lived before we were born. We existed with our Heavenly Father before the opportunity came to gain a body. He knew us, walked with us, talked with us, long before we entered our mortal estate. During that pre-earth life we were able to learn and grow, much as we do now. We were even allowed to make decisions about our lives here on earth. We knew there would be trials and hardships we would need to endure in order to progress quickly in this life.

The day our son died my husband and I were visited by our then bishop (leader of our congregation). Through the power of the priesthood and the laying on of hands by the bishop and my husband, I was able to receive a priesthood blessing. Through this blessing I was told that our son had a mission. He stopped here for just a moment to gain a body, and then he had to get back to a vital work taking place on the other side.

I was then told something I’d always known, but had never really appreciated before. My Heavenly Father promised me that if I were to remain faithful in His Church, I would again have the chance to raise my son during the Millennium (1,000 years of peace after the resurrection).

“When a baby dies, it goes back into the spirit world, and the spirit assumes its natural form as an adult, for we were all adults before we were born.

When a child is raised in the resurrection, the spirit will enter the body and the body will be the same size as it was when the child died. It will then grow after the resurrection to full maturity to conform to the size of the spirit.

If parents are righteous, they will have their children after the resurrection” Joseph Fielding Smith, “Selections From Doctrines of Salvation,” p. 547).

It is a blessing to me, knowing that in all likelihood my husband and I accepted to have this happen. It is a blessing to know what our knowledge of what came before this mortal life means for us here and now, especially when our son’s birthday is so quickly followed by Easter, reminding us of the blessing of the Atonement and Resurrection.

If we stay strong, if we live as worthily as possible, my husband and I will get the chance to raise our son in a time when the wicked influence of Satan cannot abound. We have been promised this many times. The inspiration of our little boy encourages both my husband and I to strive harder in our efforts to become better people. We do not want to lose that precious opportunity to raise him.

The death of a child is tragic, and should certainly be grieved. I testify it is not the end of hope. Take it from someone who knows.