It was a beautiful spring day, and I was in sweatpants on our back deck crying, again. That week we had been told our baby in my womb was no longer alive. Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of losing a baby after a positive first ultrasound and seeing a sweet heartbeat just a few weeks before.
It felt like the world around me was blooming with spring, while I was trapped in pain and suffering. I still took my toddler to the park and watched other moms rubbing their pregnant bellies. I carried the weight of my grief while knowing I also had a baby within my body–but not for long.
And yet, in those unbearable days of early grief, God’s people carried me.
No one could have prepared me for how miscarriage would feel–the tears I held back in public, the strength I tried to muster up to care for my family while I felt like I was falling apart. But the people in my life insisted on reminding me that even if they hadn’t experienced a loss like mine personally, they would not leave me to face it alone.
That same week, as I retreated to our back deck to cry again, I heard a familiar voice greet my husband at the front door. A few minutes later, I went inside to the smell of a home-cooked comforting meal and a sweet sympathy card from a neighbor and friend. Instead of worrying about feeding my toddler, I was able to spend that night grieving. We ate the warm meal as a family, quietly feeling supported and seen.
Soon, flowers, care packages, and gift cards found their way to our doorstep. One friend mailed me a bracelet with the word “mama” on it. Each gift reminded me of this truth: I wasn’t forgotten and my baby wasn’t either.
How God’s People Carry Each Other
The tangible gifts and support we received were meaningful and memorable. But it was often the intangible moments that revealed God’s presence through His people to our family in our grief.
One friend let me pour out all my anger, questions and pain without ever rushing to fix it with easy answers. She simply cried with me. In her presence, I felt the nearness of God.
Another friend acknowledged my baby by responding to an Easter photo of our family with: “Happy Easter to you four!” She gently reminded me she had not forgotten. Her message reminded me that God had not forgotten me.
On Mother’s Day, I received many messages acknowledging that I was a mom of two, even if one of my babies never made it earthside. Each message reminded me my baby’s life was cherished by God.
At Bible study, when someone else shared a joyful ultrasound story with their pregnancy announcement, a friend sent me a quiet text from across the room: God sees you. Her words became a powerful message I would repeat back to myself when I faced painful reminders of my own loss.
Each person who showed up for our family consistently brought healing through their words and actions. I felt reminded that I was carried by God every time I received a tangible or intangible gift from one of His people.
For most of us, grief is a strange and unpredictable experience. We don’t always know what we want or what we need—but here are some possible ways to support a friend who is grieving. Most importantly, remember you don’t have to fix their pain or have all the perfect things to say. Sometimes, the most Christlike thing is to simply continue to show up and share in their sadness.
Acknowledge the loss. If they have lost a baby, ask about the name, the memories or any special moments. Be willing to say they are a mother or father.
Bring tangible care. Drop off a meal, flowers or a small gift. Offer to help with older children. These things all communicate that you are not forgotten by your community or by God.
Be present. Sit with them, even if it’s in silence. Offer tissues, a cozy night in, a prayer, or a listening ear. Don’t shy away from their grief and show them that God doesn’t shy away from it either.
Give Permission. Help them to understand their grief is not too much by allowing them to cry, to feel angry, or to not be “okay.”
Speak gentle truths. Often, the simplest truths can be the ones we need to be reminded of most. Share reminders like “God sees you” or “I’m praying for you” without trying to overexplain.
Grief can feel messy and inconvenient. But I’ve learned that while unimaginable suffering is inevitable in this life, the loneliness of grief doesn’t have to be. As the body of Christ we are called to “carry each other’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2). When we show up for grieving friends in both tangible and intangible ways, we become living reminders of God’s compassion and presence in our lives.
Although I’ll always remember losing our baby as one of the hardest things I’ve had to walk through, I’ll also always remember that I didn’t walk through it alone. Grief can feel impossible to get through when we’re in it—but I learned the hope of healing comes when grief is shared and we carry it together.