When Teachers Experience Significant Trauma

I wrote this as part of my healing journey and struggled with whether or not to post it but upon reflecting realized that part of what got me through the worst year of my life was the bravery of other women who shared their story. So, to anyone needing to hear you will make it through a tremendous loss, whether its stillbirth, infant loss, child loss or the loss of a friend or loved one....  please know it will be okay. You will smile again. You will feel joy again. One day soon, you will find a way to live with grief alongside all of the joys life still will bring.

Trigger Warning - This post is about the year I experienced two stillbirths (one due to random chance and the next because of medical neglect after a car accident.)  In between those devastating losses, my dear friend and colleague passed away after experiencing a rare seizure. I am sharing my store because so often as a teacher, no room is given to grieve. No attention is given to the essential need for teachers to be supported with taking care of themselves and their mental health.  I survived this year because I knew I was working for an administrator who advocated for teachers to embrace self care. At my school, mental health days are encouraged and my principal insists we all take care of ourselves first, so that we can then be our best while taking care of our students. Our school boasts phenomenal growth scores and our students' academic success is incredible. If you ask me, the secret to our success is the incredible support we give each other, and the freedom we are given to take care of ourselves whenever needed.

​Anyway, here's my story.

​The 2018 school year came to an abrupt halt with the stillbirth of my son. I was shocked and numb. I couldn’t wrap my head around how the universe could be so cruel.  I floated through the summer with a deep feeling of emptiness agonizing over whether or not I could teach again. Would I be able to connect with my students? Would I care? How could I care when my world was ripped apart for absolutely no reason, no cause, just a random cruel, “lightning strike,” of an event that no doctor could give any explanation for.

Somehow I forged on, June turned into July and July - like an unstoppable freight train slammed me back into my position as a 4th grade teacher. I walked into my classroom in August praying I could still be that teacher- the one who changes students for the better- inspires them to be their best- and all of those things teachers do that I no longer felt I had in me. How could you be that teacher after experiencing the death of a child?

The first two weeks back to school were a struggle. My class was a mix of intense behavior and academic needs that demanded a level of attention that was exhausting with or without devastating life circumstances. Any other year this wouldn’t have phased me much, but this year I believed I couldn’t. I cried regularly lamenting about how hard my class was- how hard my life was really. For the first time in my 14 year career, I left as soon as the bell rang every day, often doing everything I could to avoid my coworkers.

And then one late August day, two weeks into the school year, I attempted the now normal rush out the door when my friend and fellow 4th grade teacher stopped me. I rolled my eyes knowing she was most likely wanting to talk all things 4th grade and she probably wanted to spend the next hour meticulously planning our next week. I just wasn't there for it. I wanted to go home. I wanted to continue to mourn the death of my son... I did not want to be present at school and lesson planning was the absolute last of my concerns.

But instead of asking me to help her plan out our future lessons, she just smiled and said, “Hey- do you have time to just talk? But like... not about school?"

And so we did, for over an hour until I realized I was late to pick up my daughter. We spent time laughing and giggling. We talked about her brother, and my sister, and how strange their 23 year old selves were. And then we moved on to plotting to hook them up- because that would be funny- but also perfect.  We laughed and talked about all things not 4th grade and it felt so good. I left thankful, feeling warm and relieved that yes- despite the life shattering events of my summer, I could still laugh and smile and enjoy life.

I woke up the next day and went to work with a smile I thought I had forgotten. I set down my purse and almost immediately got a panicked call from the front office. “Can you open Kristin’s door? She’s not here and no one can get a hold of her. She's not answering her door.”

That last part hit me hard. She's not answering her door? Like her classroom door? Well of course she isn't you just told me she isn't here yet.... And then my heart sank, knowing then something must be gravely wrong but hoping and praying to hear she had some type of emergency. She isn't answering her door... at home. Perhaps she had to rush her dog to the emergency room- I tried to convince myself- and left her phone at home which would explain why she hadn't sent me a text about it. Or she slept in and didn't set an alarm, which made absolutely no sense but was a better explanation than what reality was about to slap us all with...

At noon my principal called a staff meeting. She called it over the school speakers with a sense of calm that reassured me that I was right in my hopes- something was wrong but it was going to be okay. It had to be okay. And I prayed that it was until I walked into a room full of sobbing teachers who went silent as I walked in- all eyes on me- not wanting my world to be rocked again by another loss.

​She had died, randomly, for no real reason, at the age of 33.
 
I was gutted. How could this world be this cruel? How was I supposed to move forward. How was her class supposed to move forward?

A district crisis team swooped in and took over our classrooms. The group of teachers closest to her sat in the meeting room, staring at our lunches in complete disbelief. The rest of the day was a haze. At some point I left- maybe after lunch? Maybe before school let out. I don't recall. I remember seeing a parent of a child who was in her class the year before. I remember sharing a hug and some tears and then somehow I was home.

The next day I found out I was pregnant again.

Pregnancy after loss is unreal. The anxiety is beyond words because you have experienced the worst case scenario. You know there is no "safe" time as people insist is true after 12 weeks. I made it to 12 weeks, and then 16, and then 20. Everything was perfect. The baby was healthy, I was healthy, the high risk doctor released me from his care. I went to work every day trying desperately to shove the anxiety aside and focus on my class.

And then it happened. A driver in a rush to work hit me on the drivers side. I was 24 weeks pregnant and once again prayed that it would be okay. But once again it wasn't and for the third time in less than six months my world came crashing down. Nine months after the loss of my first son and 6 months after the death of my dear friend, I delivered another stillborn baby boy.

That was my June to February.

There is absolutely no way I should have survived that year. But I did... 

I would love to say it was due to my inner super hero strength. And I guess sure- somewhere I have a hidden badass women that can live through actual hell. I mean I lived through a year that could prove that. But it wasn't all me. A huge part of my survival was because of the support I had throughout.

When my son Liam died, I didn't want to tell anyone and so didn't for a long time; It was summer after all so no one would notice that I suddenly wasn't pregnant` anymore. I told Kristin though. And I told her what my doctors had said. "Going back to work is going to be awful. No one will understand. People will say horrible things even if they think they mean well. It will be awful to the point you just need to prepare to write the first weeks off. Just pretend they never happened."

I contemplated taking sick days so I could skip the staff back to school day retreat. I wanted desperately to not show up... but I did. And I was greeted with nothing but open arms and care.

When I was warned that people would avoid me, they did not. When I was warned that people would say the wrong thing they said, "I know this isn't the best time but I need you to know that while I have no idea what pain you are going through, I am here for you. There are no words, and I know that, but I am here for you."

My staff seemed to defy all odds. They were kind, caring, compassionate. They knew my son's name and acknowledged his loss. They truly cared- and I felt that. I still didn't want to be at work- I didn't want to be anywhere. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But my people- the people I worked with still met me daily with kindness. I was warned they wouldn't. But they did.

When Kristin passed away our school community was rocked.  As a staff, we were left with managing our own grief but also caring for our students. We were offered time off- people were in place to cover our classrooms lesson plan free. But we all came back to work the very next day.

We wanted- and I needed- to be there. Kristin was the type of teacher who put her students first above all else. I had this inner need to honor her by being there for them. So I was. together with my other teammate- whom I had just met two weeks prior to Kristin's death- we made plans, we checked in, we wrote newsletters to parents in her class... we rallied to make sure her class was taken care of.

But the offer still stood. Any time, for any reason, any staff member could and should take time off for themselves.

I am going to say that again. We were encouraged to take time off for ourselves. No questions asked. For no reason other than the entire district acknowledged mental health was more important than a sub day.

Knowing the offer was sincere- I pushed on. Why put all of that on your plate when you are already mourning the death of your child? It was self care at the time. Action was what I needed to do. But I wouldn't have been able to do it with the support of my staff.

We hussled for two weeks making sub plans and caring for her class until we found a solid replacement. Two weeks of subs, two weeks of sub plans. And then we found the most perfectly compassionate person to step in to what had to have been the hardest role ever.

And after her first day, I did take time off.

I went to California with my family for a week. We went to Disneyland, and the beach, and thoroughly enjoyed our time together. And I did not feel one ounce of guilt about taking a week off in September because I needed it.

I came back refreshed, ready to conquer all that is a needy class of 4th graders.

​And I felt somewhat like myself again. I felt like I could inspire and encourage my class like I did in the past. I felt like I could make it through this year- new and very scary pregnancy and all.

I did not tell anyone about my second pregnancy until the day of the car accident. People had suspected, of course, I was 24 weeks pregnant and quite large. But after a traumatic loss no one was going to ask.

I was told by doctor every thing was fine- and we all wanted to believe it. And when I did tell my coworkers- my friends- once again I was met with nothing but love and support and I absolutely hated myself for not telling them sooner.

On February 2nd, I walked into the emergency room worried about lack of movement. A sweet nurse attempted to find a heartbeat with no luck. I laughed and suggested it was probably because I had an anterior placenta, she laughed and agreed and then went to fetch a doctor... Two minutes later I heard the worst news a mother could hear- for the second time in nine months- there was no heart beat.

After making the dreaded call to family and finding care for my daughter for the night I settling in to a hospital room. At this point I did something very few other professions would do.   I sent a text to my teammates, and then an email rambling about sub plans that probably made no sense because who cares about sub plans at a time like that?  I am going to stop for a second and repeat this. I sat in a hospital bed, waiting to be induced to deliver my stillborn son and in this moment... I got onto my phone, logged on to my work email and started to write sub plans.

Only a professional working in the field of education would stop in the horror of their reality to work.... not many professionals in this position, while sitting sobbing in a hospital bed hooked up to an iv would take a moment to send sub plans.

I got quick replies- from several people- that it was taken care of. I didn't have anything to worry about anything in regards to school. They took care of it. Because that's what my staff does. We take care of each other.

My principal insisted I take as much time off as I need. I considered taking the rest of the year off but I didn't want to. I ended up taking a few weeks off but I knew I was going back to a place cared for and supported me. I knew, if needed, I could tap out at any moment and take whatever time I needed. Knowing that was a fact, gave me the strength to move on.

I will not even get into what the rest of our year was. It was a lot of pain and heart ache for a lot of people on our staff. But more than all of that, it was a group of people who showed up for each other, time after time, tragedy after tragedy. We showed up. We put ourselves first- we made sure we were all honoring the self care we needed and because of this we had the strength to be there for our students.

One day this meant the principal, councilor and specials teachers showing up at the doors of each 4th grade teacher and giving us the rest of the day off. Together we went to lunch and a movie. We laughed and admittedly cried but most importantly... we were able to stop and take a deep breath together knowing that our work lives were being taken care of so we could take care of ourselves.

That type of care- the type of showing up my staff exhibited not just for me, but for each other throughout the year as we each faced our own personal battles was inspiring. I poured that energy, that love and that care into my class. The class I cried about in the beginning of the year. The class I didn't believe I had the strength to be there for.

​But despite everything, I was able to be the me I always knew, the me that could inspire kids to succeed because others were there inspiring me.

In education, data talks. hate iReady with a passion. But at the end of this unimaginably awful year, my class showed 280% growth. Because we all showed up. When state testing results roled in, my class grew to 85% proficient or above.

​I am sure there are a million and one research papers citing evidence that makes a school successful. I am here to tell you- the success of a school depends on the staff. We showed up for each other- we took care of each other- we made sure that each and every one of us knew that if needed- their students would be taken care of too so that each and every one of us could take care of ourselves when needed.

And that is why despite living through actual hell, I was able to coach my students to grow beyond expectations. I knew if I needed to, I could take time for myself and my students would still be taken care of, because I could lean on a group of amazing men and women who showed up for me, for each other, and for the students in our school.

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