Losing a baby is one of the most painful experiences we can have in this life.
We’re coming up to Good Friday and Easter, the Christian celebration of Jesus’ death and resurrection.
I know that many of my readers are walking through deep pain right now–readers who would love to have a baby to hold, but don’t either because of infertility or because of miscarriage and baby death.
As I’ve shared before, and as I’ve written about in my book How Big Is Your Umbrella, my baby boy passed away when he was 29 days old. The idea of losing a son has always had special significance to me and my husband.
For twelve years I wrote a column in our local paper and several others, and one of the most popular columns I ever wrote was a prayer for those who had lost babies (even secular papers published it!). And I thought I would run it for all of you today, since tomorrow is Good Friday and we’ll all be remembering that God also went through this pain–the pain of watching a child die.
When a child dies it feels as if the physical laws of the universe have been violated.
You needed that child far more than you need the very oxygen you breathe, and yet that child is gone, and your lungs keep working. Your very breath is a betrayal, and squeezes your chest worse than any violence ever could. So I pray that you will be able to take each breath, and that eventually simply living won’t hurt like this anymore.
And I pray that in your grief you and your spouse will be able to turn to each other. The death of a child strains a marriage in a way little else does. It’s not fair, but you face a crossroads. I pray you will walk this valley together, and that the journey will strengthen you, rather than separate you.
I pray that people will surround you with practical help, that they will hug and that they will listen. I pray that your friends won’t scatter because they feel awkward, but that they will be patient, even when the grief seems to be lasting longer than others think it should. I pray that if your grief is from a miscarriage or a stillbirth, people will still understand the depth of your pain.
I also pray that you will be able to take each day as it comes.
When a child dies, and especially a baby who did not have the chance to become part of your daily routine, on the outside it is almost as if he or she never existed. And yet, for you that child was your very heart. If you let go of the grief, it is as if you are letting go of the last thing that ties you to your baby. Remember, though, that grief is not something that disappears. Sometimes grief is overt, but other times you feel fine. I pray that you will embrace those moments when you feel peace, because there will be moments—even if it’s days, weeks, or years later—when the grief will return, unbidden, in full force. Be grateful for good days and do not feel guilty for them. Smiling is not betraying your child.
At the same time, I pray that when those good days become the norm, even if it’s years down the road, that you will not feel like you are going crazy if the grief suddenly hits you hard again.
You’re not regressing, or starting at square one. This is the way of grief, and know that it never completely disappears. If we are honest, we probably wouldn’t want it any other way. So I pray that in those moments when you can’t breathe again that you will still experience peace, and know that this intensity will again subside.
I pray that you will remember that everyday that passes is not one more day further away from your child, but instead one more day that you are closer to meeting him or her again.
And finally, I pray that one day you will be able to remember with laughter, and not just with tears.
Amen.
Like this post? You may also appreciate:
My son Christopher the day before his surgery.
Have a blessed Easter weekend, everyone. And remember–Easter is only a celebration because Good Friday came. Pain is a part of life, but the good news is that God has redeemed that pain through Jesus!
Sheila Wray Gregoire has been married for 27 years and happily married for 22! She loves traveling around North America with her hubby in their RV, giving her signature "Girl Talk" about sex and marriage. And she's written 8 books. About sex and marriage. See a theme here? Plus she knits. Even in line at the grocery store.
Shiela – I have been waiting for the right moment to tell you this: You do a great job sharing Christopher’s short life with us and giving him the opportunity to be known. I shared in your prayer this morning. Happy Easter Sheila – Happy Easter Everyone. Thank You Jesus!
Oh, thank you, Phil! He was a precious little guy.
Sheila,
Thank you for this post today. My husband and I found out that our little one no longer had a heartbeat two weeks ago today. The baby was 13 weeks. It’s been a really tough time for us, and I’ve been struggling.
Oh, I’m sorry, Lindsey. I’m so sorry. This was for you, then.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Lindsey.
Sheila, I’ve had a complicated and drawn out miscarriage over the last few weeks. This morning I finally passed the baby and it’s just been a hard day. It’s late at night here and I finally brought myself to go deal with the remains and was spending depressed moments in bed flipping through my phone and just trying not to think when I opened my blog app thinking, “There’ll be nothing here I’ll feel like reading,” and then saw your post. I feel like God sees and hears. You may have posted this just for me. Thank you:)
Oh, wow. I have tears in my eyes. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’m so sorry. I’m glad God could use me to comfort you, at least in part.
Thank you for this, Sheila. I get scared sometimes that, because I never got to see my lost baby and don’t even know what sex it was (very early miscarriage), I won’t know him/her when we meet again. Or even worse, that I’ll get to heaven (if I do) and find that s/he isn’t anywhere because of not having lived. Everyone, including my husband, thinks I should be over it by now (six years, and we had another baby who lived, thank God), but I’m not, so thank you for the acknowledgement that grief comes and goes, and goes on and on.
Oh, Rosie, I’m so sorry!
I had a really early miscarriage, too.
But i figure that God knows whether that baby was a boy or a girl, and God will introduce us one day. It may be a mystery to us but it isn’t to God. What I always wonder is whether babies age in heaven? I figure if they do then one day there may not be any babies anymore, and I think life would be boring without babies! But I guess we’re not really supposed to understand all that yet.
Thank you again. And I’m sorry for your losses too.
Our first pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage. It was really hard and sad, and I was so grateful for my church community at the time. I was surrounded by women who talked to me about their own experiences of miscarriage, a Bible study group who brought us a meal and cards. Our lead pastors, a married couple, made a short, private memorial service for me and my husband at their house. Looking back on it, it was so rare and valuable and let that early loss be real. It’s so important to talk about this grief, and I really appreciate you doing that, Sheila.
That’s beautiful about the small service. I think that’s lovely.
I also think that when we start talking about it, it’s amazing how many people have gone through something similar. Whenever I speak and I talk about Christopher, I inevitably have several women come up to me afterwards with similar stories. You’d never know it to look at us, and so when you go through a miscarriage, you don’t realize how common it is. It’s such a comfort in a way to know that we aren’t alone!
Thank you! After 3 early miscarriages in the first 2 years of marriage, and now finally making it to 11 weeks, hoping, praying, pleading that God will have mercy on this child, your prayer was such an encouraging read. Praying for all the mothers who have shared their stories here.
My grandson and granddaughter lost their baby boy at birth a week ago, we all got to see him and hold him.This is the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. I’m so worried for my granddaughter for she is so depressed. I don’t know what to say to help her.
Oh, I think that’s terrible, watching someone you love go through it and feeling so helpless! I don’t think you have to say much of anything at all, except acknowledging how much it hurts and then helping with things like getting her meals, etc. I’m sorry!