I’m Speaking to Every Grieving Parent Who Feels Lost Right Now

The path to and through parenthood is often depicted as a series of snapshots of rejoicing and anticipation. And rightfully so, children are a blessing, and becoming a parent is a dream for many people.

Sometimes, however, those snapshots create cruel disillusionment for people whose dreams haven’t come to fruition just yet or for those who have and lost a child at any age.

My personal experience is with pregnancy loss, specifically, which I can attest is an indescribable level of soul-crushing trauma. It is important to remember that there are many different types of parental loss, and they all hurt in their own unique way.

Back to my personal experience. Laymen, of course, refer to this as a miscarriage. The medical profession has a much harsher term for it that, in my humble opinion, adds to the anguish—spontaneous abortion.

These are terribly lonely experiences that test our hope and push the very heart of our resilience to its breaking point.

Even though it’s hard to imagine and maybe hard to feel in moments like these, God is in that trench with us and wants us to seek Him out.

Silent Sorrow

The burden of infertility, miscarriage, and infant/child death is not a new concept to humanity; it is one pathos written into the human narrative. Ancient literature presents us with women whose existence was first given meaning by their childlessness, with women who waited for decades for the offspring promised to them, and with women who mourned each year for a child they ached for deeply.

Their stories validate that the pain of an unrealized yearning for a child is a genuine, intensely emotional human feeling that must be acknowledged. Think about Eve, when Abel died (Genesis 4:25 NIV), Sarah waiting for Isaac (Genesis 21 NIV), or Hannah promising God, she’d dedicate her baby back to Him as she prayed fervently for Samuel (1 Samuel 1:11 NIV).

I cannot begin to discuss the experience of women who go through pregnancy loss before having a child, or have suffered the devastating loss of a baby or child. My own experience was after the birth of our firstborn. My husband and I wanted to have three children. We began trying to add to our family when our oldest was 18 months old.

We had three miscarriages and a year of trying to get pregnant without success. Our firstborn was 6 years old when I became pregnant with our rainbow baby and almost 8 years old when our youngest arrived. But, still, the sorrow of those lost babies’ lives in my soul to this very day.

Our boys are now 15, 9, and 7 years old, and I can still close my eyes, remember the dates of the losses, and see the face of our baby on the ultrasound of our third miscarriage. They had a heartbeat and were developing as they should, until they weren’t. The pain was full body, mind, and soul, not just for me, but for my husband, too.

From the thrilling prospect of a positive test, I can vouch that all three miscarriages were a shattering blow that stripped away my confidence as a woman. I often asked myself, “What’s wrong with me?” What did I do wrong?”

The specter of “trying again” felt virtually paralyzing. And the year of inexplicable infertility left a sense of hopelessness in the pit of my stomach.

I remember having a very real conversation with God, accepting that maybe my dream of three was not His plan for some reason. I remember expressing to Him my gratitude for our 5-year-old and saying I accepted God’s will for our lives.

About a week later, our 5-year-old asked for a baby brother. Then, just ahead of Christmas, I found out I was indeed pregnant.

Seeking Strength

When life delivers hurt instead of promise, one cannot help but ask about the future or the good that shall follow. It is here in this “desolate land,” however, that personal resilience can pay off in new and surprising forms.

The narrative of those who have survived loss and hardship is a rich paradigm of lament and release, declaring that even in losing all, we can choose to thank and hold fast to the good.

There is no better biblical example than Job. After losing everything, he declared, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised” (Job 1:21 NIV).

Job’s story is not a case of passive compliance, but an act of revolution in choosing to serve life and hope in the midst of loss.

In my most vulnerable moments, grasping the memory of our losses, I clung to the realization that there is healing for the brokenhearted. I found Psalm 34:18 (NIV) particularly comforting. It says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

I came to see that maintaining presence is not tied to a timely answer to prayer or a gloriously expanding plan, for that matter. It was a painful, incremental process of realizing my value as a person, wife, and mother of one, as well as leaning into my savior for comfort and healing.

The Promise of the “Rainbow Baby” and Lasting Hope

The child who comes after a period of great loss and expectation is frequently referred to as a “rainbow baby”—a symbol of color and promise following the storm that is tied back to the story of Noah in Genesis and God’s covenant to him following the great flood (Genesis 9:12-17 NIV). Our sweet middle child is named Noah for this very reason.

I carried my rainbow baby to full term and prayed the entire time. That does not mean that I was free from anxiety. It was intense, but God, my husband, and a very kind OBGYN saw me through it.

God’s Presence and Hope

Holding that baby in my arms didn’t wipe away the grief that preceded him, but it was a living testament to hope’s strength and the resilience of life. The joy was great, but it was always held in balance with the heavy awareness of the sorrow that paved the way to him.

I’m speaking to every grieving parent who feels lost right now. Friend, there are no words for the loss and sorrow you feel. No two losses are the same, but they all scar our very being to the core. God knows this.

Psalm 34:18 (NIV) says that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Matthew 5:4 (NIV) reminds us that “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”