How to Grieve with a 9 Month Old Baby
My father had been ready to die.
His corpse was like a collapsed tent, skin loose over bone, anchored down by tubes, feeding tube, IV drip tube, urine tube, to keep it from floating away into the wind. But there was a smile alive on his face - a toothy, happy smile that had almost vanished during those dark years when alcohol and loneliness kept him company.
3:45 AM: I stood there in the doorway—next to his bed—pressing his arms, cold, so cold—screeching, my baby in a dim corner of my mind, asleep in his crib alone at that hour, with his grandmother to give him company.
5:00 AM: Wait outside while they dressed and cleaned the body.
5:30 AM: Life ends with a bill. A big bill if you’re at the hospital and unable to pay it in full. Then they hold your dad’s body hostage until you’re both rescued.
7:00 AM: Return in the same clothes I slept in, to a house in mourning. Oil lamps burning around the body. The chants of prayer, monotonic and insistent as a bee. They say death shouldn’t be announced but heard, loud enough to reach God’s ear.
How do you grieve in front of a baby? How do you cry when that baby is yours, and you have to be ‘on’ all the time? Here’s how I managed:
Delegate: Give your baby to someone you trust and find a private space. And then, please, allow yourself to a complete, hot, fucking mess.
Embrace Exposure: Protecting my baby didn’t mean sheltering him. He needed to be exposed to people in their joy and sorrow.
Acknowledge Your Feelings: Be aware that you’re not okay, and it’s okay to not be okay.
Rest: Sleep. Sleep as much as you can. Grief is exhausting, and you need the rest.
Accept Help: Allow yourself to be assisted. You don’t have to handle everything alone.
Here’s an example:
In my community, whenever there’s a death in the family, no one cooks during the mourning period. The family arranges food from a catering company, or the community takes care of it for them. The idea is that the house is “tainted” by death, so any food prepared in that house during that period will taint the living.
But this practice has a practical side: who feels like cooking at that time? Accepting help with meals means you can focus on what’s important—mourning your loss and being present.
Stay Busy: Throw yourself into whatever work comes your way. As a parent, you can’t afford the luxury (and curse) of free time. If nothing else, it might dull the pain a little.
Talk About It: Share your feelings with as many people as you can. It’s talk therapy—affordable and effective. And it helps you etch those little details about the person you loved, those quirks that would otherwise fade with time.
Get Out: If it all becomes too much, go for a walk. Take your baby if necessary. Just getting out can make a difference.
Cry in Private: Cry some more while your baby is asleep. Cry in the shower where your baby can’t see you. Cry when you’re cutting onions in the kitchen and the smell reopens a raw wound. Pretend it was the onions.
Send Voice Notes: I talk out loud to my dad (thanks to my husband for this idea). I tell him the news, how the day went, how his grandchild is doing. I ask him if he’s okay, if he’s safe, if his journey to heaven is going well.
Some would call it insanity. I call it staying in touch.
Grief is so intimate, and so hard to cope with while caring for a young child. But with support, acceptance and whatever self-care you can manage, it’s not impossible.