This post by Salina Kelley gently addresses pregnancy and infant loss. We share it to honor those who grieve and to remind you that God is near to the brokenhearted (Ps. 34:18).
When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. People cautioned me that I may want to keep it quiet until I passed my first trimester, “just in case,” but I wanted everyone to share in my joy. Immediately after experiencing the sweet sound of my baby’s heartbeat on ultrasound, I bought the tiniest little jean and red bandana overall dress because I just knew in my heart that I was having a little cowgirl.
A few weeks later, I lay frozen in bed, my heart racing with pure panic and dread. As I felt the deep pangs of my womb, I clenched every muscle, desperately willing my body to save my baby. I lost my baby while waiting to be seen, sobbing on the bathroom floor of urgent care. I begged the doctor to make it stop, to give me any other answer than the one my heart already knew was true. Just weeks after I had seen and heard a healthy heart beating life into my sweet babe on the ultrasound, I sat, completely numb and thoroughly wrung out, staring at a dark screen, hearing nothing but the roar of silence where a heartbeat should be. And then the doctor said the harshest words I have ever heard, “I see no signs of life; there is no baby.” Those ten words gutted me. All the life, joy, love, and hope were ripped away because now, there was no baby.
How could I navigate the infinite emotions with the finality of this lost life? I spent the next week on bedrest, which was its own form of torture. Having to lie in bed all day and night with nothing but my thoughts while feeling the process of miscarriage was heartbreaking. I lay sobbing on that little dress, both hating it and wanting to cherish it forever, as the only tangible proof my baby ever existed.
My heart yearned and my arms ached for the baby I could not hold. I vacillated between huge visceral emotions to feeling completely numb. I was angry. Angry at myself for not being able to stop what happened, angry at everyone around me for going on as if the whole world wasn’t crashing around them, and angry at God for not saving my baby.
I was in my second trimester, and I saw my baby’s little heart beating. This isn’t supposed to happen! I felt ashamed, like I had somehow failed. How could I ever be a good mom if I couldn’t even bring this baby safely into this world? I allowed these lies to fill my mind with doubt and darkness.
A few years and a couple of healthy babies later, I experienced that horrible feeling I knew too well once again. I sat in a cold sweat at work completely confused, tears streaming, as this painful reality took root for a second time. This miscarriage came so early, I had not even had time to celebrate the sweet life that had started. Finding out I was pregnant by the loss of that babe wrecked my heart in a completely different way. I was forced to grieve the little heart I would never hear beat. No amount of strength or determination would stop the pains of my womb or the result of those pains.
All those emotions and feelings came rushing back like a destructive tidal wave. A well-intentioned friend told me “At least I had other babies” as if the love and longing for this child was somehow less intense. We do not have a finite amount of love that is then divided by the number of loved ones. We instead have an abundant love that magnifies with each loved one. That love is unique, and God designed for each bond entrusted to us. I was ripped apart by the mixture of mourning the emptiness I felt and the love I didn’t know what to do with. I railed at God for leaving me with empty arms again. I begged, bargained and berated God for this reality I did not want. I found myself once again engulfed in the darkness of loss.
In that darkness, I found two choices; succumb to the hurt and allow bitterness to take root or surrender it all to the Lord with the whisper of truth that He is the good Father. In surrendering, I found hope in these truths.
God is with us in the suffering
Psalm 34:17-18 says, “The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles. The Lord is near the brokenhearted; he saves those crushed in spirit.”
I appreciate that these verses show God’s nearness in the suffering. It doesn’t say we will not suffer but that He is with us in the suffering. God heard my cries, my anger, and my desperate pleas. In the moments when I had too many words, and when I had no words at all, He heard the prayers of my heart.
God, in all His grace, can handle all the emotions and tears poured out. We do not need to feel shame for pouring it all out to Him. He is near because He wants to be our Rescuer and Redeemer. He begins to heal that suffering with a fullness that only He can bring. God hears our cries and is near to us in our suffering. He reveals himself as our Comforter and Provider.
God is with us in our weakness
Isaiah 41:10 says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand.”
I love this image of my loving God holding on to me. At my weakest moments, when my knees are buckling, when my mind fights for control and my soul yearns for strength, the Lord, in all His mercy and goodness holds on to me and says, “Do not fear.”
We can let go of trying to control the grief, and we can release the hurt, knowing our Father, in His goodness, will sustain us.
God is with us in our hope
Romans 15:13 says, “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
In each story of loss, there came a point where a glimpse of hope began to flicker amidst the darkness. This hope was not necessarily hope for a child, though that was there too. It was the God of hope reminding me of His faithfulness to give me peace in my hardships. He was the same God who had seen me through all that came before and would faithfully see me through this loss as well.
God wants us to put our hope in Him with confidence that he will give us the desires of our heart. This does not always mean he answers our prayers exactly as we want them answered but, through our drawing close to Him, we begin to set our hope in His will. We find an overflowing peace and joy in His plan and purpose.
A note for those walking with someone through loss:
Job 2:13 says, “Then they sat on the ground with him seven days and nights, but no one spoke a word to him because they saw that his suffering was very intense.”
When walking through grief with others, there are two important lessons to learn from Job’s friends. The first is something they did well. The second is an opportunity for us to learn from something they did that was less than helpful.
Be Present
Job’s friends showed up for him and met him where he was, sitting on the ground in silence. Each woman walking though loss does so with a unique experience and perspective. Her journey through the grief process will be just as unique. Walking with her means creating space for her to grieve in her own way, knowing she is loved and cared for. This can also be a time to offer help—whether through bringing a meal, offering to do some tidying, or running errands. Rather than saying things like, “Let me know if I can do anything,” try saying something like, “What is one thing I can do to make today a little easier?” or something specific like, “Would it help if I brought you lunch and cleaned the kitchen so you can rest awhile?” Your presence and comfort as she processes matters. Even if she wants to be alone, knowing you are available and willing to be there is a lifeline to hope.
Be in Prayer
Above all else, praying for and with your friend through her loss should be your first priority. Job’s friends did such a great job of being present, but they followed that by giving less than helpful advice, and they failed to turn to the Lord in prayer. As your friend grieves, take the time to pray in silence over your friend, over her family, and over the words you will speak to her. She may not be ready to hear your prayers in the beginning. Allow the Spirit to lead you in when and how you offer to pray with her. Use prayerful discernment in any advice or encouragement you might share. This is not the time to say things like, “God has a purpose for this,” or “You can try again.” While these things may be true, she may not be ready to hear or even think about them.
The pain, both physical and emotional, that comes from the loss of a baby is deep and devastating. This pain never leaves but it softens as the hope of Christ in our healing grows. Having support that points back to the love and goodness of God with a quiet gentleness is beyond precious. Find hope in the Lord and cling to the truth that, no matter the darkness, joy comes in the morning.
About Salina Kelley
Salina Kelley is the administrative assistant for Lifeway Women. Within the church, she has served as an executive assistant to the head pastor, church planting leader, women’s ministry leader, and led support groups for single moms and foster families. She is a former foster parent and is a passionate advocate for the restoration of families through trauma-informed intervention and walking hand-in-hand with biological families to show them the love of Christ. Salina and her husband, David, have six awesome children ranging from toddler all the way to adult. In addition to her role as a mom and her work with Lifeway, she is currently pursuing a degree in Christian Leadership & Management: Business Management through Liberty University.
