To the Grieving Dad & Those Who Love Him
by Brad Witmer
Life often plays out far differently than imagined. At least for me anyway. I’ve long come to ideas in my head of how life will unfold far ahead of time, only for plans to change dramatically. And the biggest side step, knock down, and sucker punch I’ve ever taken was the day I learned my sweet daughter Levitt had passed away in her mother’s womb.
We were 40 weeks and 4 days along to meeting our little girl when it all stopped. Her heartbeat. Our lives. Our ability to think further than a moment out in front of us. Our worlds had come to that screeching halt, and we had no idea what to do other than to feel and be completely broken.
What felt like both a lifetime and mere seconds had passed as we were faced with unimaginable requests. Would we prefer our daughter be buried or cremated? Do we want a funeral service, or would we like an intimate and small gathering? If we were to cremate our daughter, what urn would we like and with what funeral home are we going? So many questions that you can’t possibly be prepared for, especially while standing in the room where you imagined the growth of your family just beginning.
As we made decisions for our daughter’s death before her life outside the womb ever began, our souls seemed to be leaving us more and more with every passing hour. Now, with more than 10 months since we met our daughter, we are at a place where we have more good days than bad, but are still completely sidelined by so many things in life – social events, meeting the little ones of our close friends and family, and even trying to remain confident in our own future family plans.
The hurt, weight, and stress that is placed on my shoulders each and every day has become so normal now that almost a year later I still find myself wondering if and when will life get easier, or at least back to what I believed was normal. Not only do I have a daughter to care for that no longer needs me as she rests with Jesus, but I have an entire life here that still needs me, too. My wife needs me, my family needs me, my pup needs me, my friends need me, and my coworkers need me. But when I feel as though I am just barely more than half of what I used to be, how do I keep up with seemingly so much demand?
Still working on that last question, but talking through things has helped tremendously. One of the first things we did when we learned our daughter’s heartbeat had stopped was getting back into counseling to help us navigate this new space we found ourselves in – to begin truly processing what had happened so that we could set ourselves up for somewhat of a simpler journey ahead than if we chose the path of simply pushing that pain down for another day. That single decision has played such an important role in being able to grieve alongside one another, even if we do so differently.
In the days and months since meeting our daughter, so much has happened – we’ve seen new babies born, sold our home, moved around cities, said goodbye to another person very dear to us, and have entered the pregnancy journey once again. We have crunched what seems like a lifetime of lessons into mere months. Yet I feel as though my daughter has taught me so much on how to love, become more empathetic, understand how to navigate the needs of other relationships, and so much more. She truly has had such a significant and positive impact on my life that I, at the time, had only imagined being sad. Levitt has given me more life than I ever anticipated.
With nearly a year of training towards getting back to life since losing my daughter, my focus has shifted from trying to be involved in anything and everything, to simplifying and working to be more present in the here and now. Allowing life to slow down has always been difficult, and seemingly discouraged, but it has done wonders for my own self-image, my relationship with my wife, and those that have been helping us through this time. This approach has allowed us the room to focus on our ability to care for ourselves in a deeper way.
For all of those reading this that are embarking on a similar journey — my encouragement is to be selfish. And what I mean by that is to take time to understand what you truly need and plug into it. Do what feels right in the here and now and take care of yourself. This journey is hard. It sucks. And so few people are truly relatable. But continuing to find meaning in life in the simple things can help resuscitate the will to take one step forward, try new things, and live a life with purpose again in honor of your child that was taken too soon.
And for those of you that know someone with a similar story to mine, my advice is to please be present. I lost the ability to reach out to others, but never did it mean that I didn’t want others reaching out to me. Feeling forgotten and invisible is one huge side effect to losing a child, and if you are able to be present in one’s life as they suffer through this loss, it will greatly help in their healing process.
Author: Brad Witmer
About Brad: Hi there, my name is Brad and my wife, Maggie, and I lost our daughter, Levitt, back in June of 2021. It's been nearly a year since we lost her and it's crazy how she changed our lives forever. This is a small look into all that change and what we've been learning along the way.
Resources for the grieving dad
Free Printable Father’s Day Card
Download, print and give to a grieving father in your life. Remind him that he is loved and not forgotten this Father’s Day.