An Open Letter From A Grieving Mama

An open letter from a grieving mama,

I don’t know how to verbalize a lot of the things I’m feeling. There’s a part of me missing.

A perfect little person.

Maybe I carried them a few weeks, maybe a few months, maybe I had just seen that faint positive before they were gone a few days later.

Maybe I sat in a silent ultrasound room.

Maybe I never even got to see them.

But they are part of me, and they always will be.

Their DNA is a part of mine and I will carry them with them long after I no longer carry them in my womb.

I just wanted to keep them safe, to love them, and I feel like my body failed me.

Maybe if I wouldn’t have had that extra cup of coffee that day, maybe if I had eaten better, maybe if I had drank more water, maybe if I hadn’t lifted my toddler that day…maybe my baby would still be here. Was it my fault?

Please don’t forget my baby.

If I named them, ask about them by name. If I didn’t, give me the opportunity to talk about them anyway. One of my biggest fears is that everyone will forget.

There is no funeral for a baby lost like this.

So will anyone care?

Will anyone remember them?

When their due date comes and goes, will anyone remember? When the day I lost them comes, and I’m broken all over again, will anyone remember?

Will anyone care about them?

Please don’t forget. Please make this baby just as important as any other. I need someone to tell me that this baby mattered to them.

Grief is heavy.

And I grieve this baby more deeply than I could’ve ever imagined I would.

I’m told it’s common.

To lose a baby in the womb.

The doctor told me that I could always try again.

But even if I do have a rainbow baby one day, it won’t replace this one. I’ll still carry this baby until I finally meet it face to face.

I’m broken, and I don’t know how to heal.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

Everyone’s lives went back to normal, mine is shattered, and I’m so aware of who is missing.

I want to trust the Lord.

But I want to scream at everyone who throws around those overused cliches. I’m trying to trust him, to believe that he will not forget me.

I want to bless his name, even though I’m having to battle anger. I want to praise him, but I don’t know how to praise him for this…but Lord, I will try.

Please don’t avoid me, even though you don’t know what to say to me. Please treat me like any other new mother, because I am a mother, a mother who never got to hold her baby. A mother with empty arms.

All my baby ever knew was the sound of my heart beat from the inside. I hope they know how much they were loved and wanted. I hope they know how much I miss them.

When their eyes opened, all they saw was Jesus. Safe, free from pain and fear, surrounded by love. And I can’t wait to meet them.

Ever since the day I lost them, I lost a part of me.

I may not ever be the same as I once was, but I pray that somehow, some way, the Lord will use this for his glory.

Love,

Mama to a baby fully known only by the Lord

How to support someone you love who has lost a baby:

•they are still a new mother, take them a meal.

•they are still experiencing postpartum, but with empty arms, give them extra grace as they navigate unknown territory.

•make a note of special dates, due dates and anniversaries so that you will remember when they come around…knowing that someone else remembers and cares is a comfort beyond words.

•ask them if they gave their baby a name, so that you can call the baby by name in conversation.

•offer to talk about the baby, not every mother will grieve this way, but sometimes they LONG to talk about it and the things they are feeling.

•one of the most precious things I own is a necklace for ALL of my children. A piece of jewelry often gives them something physical to cling to.

•reach out from time to time just to check in, grief comes and goes with waves. It’s like learning to live with an amputation…some days you function well. Other days, you ache for what is missing. Either way, you’re always aware of what is gone…some days the ache is just a little less obvious.

•Pray for and with them. Sit with them in their pain.

•Just be there🤍 They need you🤍