Grieving While Mothering: How My Kids Helped Me Survive The Hardest Days.

Jun 5

Written By LaLa P.

When my husband died, I didn’t just lose him.

I lost my partner in parenting.

I lost the person who helped carry the load.

I lost the person who could scoop up our kids when I had nothing left to give.

Suddenly, it was just me.

Just me… and three sets of eyes looking up at me.

Three hearts watching me closely.

Three little souls who didn’t just lose their dad — they were also watching to see if they’d lose me too.

I didn’t get to grieve in silence.

I didn’t get to fall apart without an audience.

Every tear I cried was seen by them.

Every time I sat on the bathroom floor, trying to catch my breath, I had little hands knocking on the door asking, “Mommy, are you okay?”

And honestly? Some days, the answer was no., but I couldn’t tell them that…so I thought.

But every time I thought I couldn’t keep going…

Every time I wanted to hide under the covers…

Every time the grief felt too heavy…

I’d remember:

They still needed me.

How My Kids Helped Me Survive

It’s funny how the same thing that felt like pressure — having to show up for my kids — also became the thing that saved me. And still, they don’t even know it.

Here’s how they unknowingly carried me through:

1. Their routine kept me moving.

I had to wake up. I had to make breakfast. I had to drop them off, pick them up, sign papers, check homework.

Even when I wanted the world to stop, their needs kept me anchored in the present.

2. Their joy reminded me there was still light.

I’d hear their laughter in the other room. I’d see them playing, living, being kids. Their ability to still find joy, even in their loss, softened some of the hardest edges of my pain.

3. Their questions gave me purpose.

“Is Daddy still watching us?”

“Do you think Daddy is watching us perform?”

Their questions reminded me that love doesn’t disappear — it transforms. And it pushed me to find words of comfort, even when I was still looking for comfort myself.

4. Their milestones gave me hope.

Every birthday, every school award, every moment of growth reminded me:

Life didn’t end.

Yes, it changed. But it didn’t end.

And that gave me permission to keep building a life — for them and for me.

It wasn’t always like this though…

At First, I Wanted to Hide My Grief

In the beginning, I wanted to protect them from my pain.

I wanted to hide the tears in my eyes.

I wanted to close the door when the grief overwhelmed me, so they wouldn’t see the broken pieces of me.

I thought if they saw me hurting, it would scare them.

I thought if they saw me crying, it would make them feel unsafe.

But what I’ve learned is this:

It’s okay for them to see the broken parts of me.

Because when they see my brokenness, they also get to see me putting the pieces back together.

When they see me cry, they also get to see me wipe my tears and stand back up.

When they see my pain, they also get to see my healing.

And in that, they’re learning something powerful:

That grief doesn’t destroy us — it shapes us.

That healing isn’t about pretending nothing hurts — it’s about moving forward even though it hurts.

The Hardest Part of Mothering Through Grief

There were moments I felt guilty for not being the “fun” mom anymore.

There were moments I felt guilty for crying in front of them.

There were moments I felt guilty for laughing, for smiling, for having even a second that didn’t feel sad.

Grief and guilt love to dance together…so let it.

But I learned that it’s okay for our kids to see our humanity.

It’s okay for them to see us sad, as long as they also see us keep going.

It’s okay for them to see us cry, as long as they also see us stand back up.

Because through it all, I was teaching them something powerful:

We can survive heartbreak.

We can carry sadness and joy at the same time.

We can keep loving, even after loss.

A Message to Other Widowed Moms

If you’re reading this as a grieving mother, please hear me:

You don’t have to be perfect.

You don’t have to have all the answers.

You don’t have to smile every day.

You just have to show up.

And even on the days when showing up looks like frozen pizza for dinner and one more episode of cartoons…

You’re still showing up.

You’re still loving them.

You’re still surviving.

And little by little, they’re helping you heal — even if they don’t realize it.

We’re walking this road together, mama.

One small step at a time.

If you’re supporting grieving children or navigating grief as a family, I’ve found resources like The Dougy Center to be incredibly helpful. They offer free tools, guides, and support for kids, teens, and families dealing with loss.

With Love,

La 💙

LaLa P.

Grieving While Mothering: How My Kids Helped Me Survive The Hardest Days.

When my husband died, I didn’t just lose him.

I lost my partner in parenting.

I lost the person who helped carry the load.

I lost the person who could scoop up our kids when I had nothing left to give.

Suddenly, it was just me.

Just me… and three sets of eyes looking up at me.

Three hearts watching me closely.

Three little souls who didn’t just lose their dad — they were also watching to see if they’d lose me too.

I didn’t get to grieve in silence.

I didn’t get to fall apart without an audience.

Every tear I cried was seen by them.

Every time I sat on the bathroom floor, trying to catch my breath, I had little hands knocking on the door asking, “Mommy, are you okay?”

And honestly? Some days, the answer was no., but I couldn’t tell them that…so I thought.

But every time I thought I couldn’t keep going…

Every time I wanted to hide under the covers…

Every time the grief felt too heavy…

I’d remember:

They still needed me.

How My Kids Helped Me Survive

It’s funny how the same thing that felt like pressure — having to show up for my kids — also became the thing that saved me. And still, they don’t even know it.

Here’s how they unknowingly carried me through:

1. Their routine kept me moving.

I had to wake up. I had to make breakfast. I had to drop them off, pick them up, sign papers, check homework.

Even when I wanted the world to stop, their needs kept me anchored in the present.

2. Their joy reminded me there was still light.

I’d hear their laughter in the other room. I’d see them playing, living, being kids. Their ability to still find joy, even in their loss, softened some of the hardest edges of my pain.

3. Their questions gave me purpose.

“Is Daddy still watching us?”

“Do you think Daddy is watching us perform?”

Their questions reminded me that love doesn’t disappear — it transforms. And it pushed me to find words of comfort, even when I was still looking for comfort myself.

4. Their milestones gave me hope.

Every birthday, every school award, every moment of growth reminded me:

Life didn’t end.

Yes, it changed. But it didn’t end.

And that gave me permission to keep building a life — for them and for me.

It wasn’t always like this though…

At First, I Wanted to Hide My Grief

In the beginning, I wanted to protect them from my pain.

I wanted to hide the tears in my eyes.

I wanted to close the door when the grief overwhelmed me, so they wouldn’t see the broken pieces of me.

I thought if they saw me hurting, it would scare them.

I thought if they saw me crying, it would make them feel unsafe.

But what I’ve learned is this:

It’s okay for them to see the broken parts of me.

Because when they see my brokenness, they also get to see me putting the pieces back together.

When they see me cry, they also get to see me wipe my tears and stand back up.

When they see my pain, they also get to see my healing.

And in that, they’re learning something powerful:

That grief doesn’t destroy us — it shapes us.

That healing isn’t about pretending nothing hurts — it’s about moving forward even though it hurts.

The Hardest Part of Mothering Through Grief

There were moments I felt guilty for not being the “fun” mom anymore.

There were moments I felt guilty for crying in front of them.

There were moments I felt guilty for laughing, for smiling, for having even a second that didn’t feel sad.

Grief and guilt love to dance together…so let it.

But I learned that it’s okay for our kids to see our humanity.

It’s okay for them to see us sad, as long as they also see us keep going.

It’s okay for them to see us cry, as long as they also see us stand back up.

Because through it all, I was teaching them something powerful:

We can survive heartbreak.

We can carry sadness and joy at the same time.

We can keep loving, even after loss.

A Message to Other Widowed Moms

If you’re reading this as a grieving mother, please hear me:

You don’t have to be perfect.

You don’t have to have all the answers.

You don’t have to smile every day.

You just have to show up.

And even on the days when showing up looks like frozen pizza for dinner and one more episode of cartoons…

You’re still showing up.

You’re still loving them.

You’re still surviving.

And little by little, they’re helping you heal — even if they don’t realize it.

We’re walking this road together, mama.

One small step at a time.

If you’re supporting grieving children or navigating grief as a family, I’ve found resources like The Dougy Center to be incredibly helpful. They offer free tools, guides, and support for kids, teens, and families dealing with loss.

With Love,

La 💙

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