what to say.


Last week, another friend of mine lost her baby. The son for whom she prayed and waited so long was born still at forty weeks of pregnancy. My brain tried to stop working there for a bit. What do you say to her as she waits for the induction to work, both of you knowing she will not meet a live baby on the other side? What do you say after she and her husband arrive home with an empty car seat? What on earth, Lord?

I’ve often felt useless, unable to encourage hurting moms when I myself have never experienced infertility or miscarriage or infant loss or failed adoption. I’ve grown to feel almost guilty when I receive such sad news from the women I call my own. But I’m learning something… those guilty feelings are not from the Lord. As I walk through these tragedies on the sidelines of my friends’ lives, I’m learning that it’s okay not to know what to say.

For now, I’m sorry will have to work. I’m sorry and I’m hurting with you. I’m for you, and I’m behind you. I’m believing that He is good and faithful. I’m saying it for you, holding your arms up when you cannot. And I’ll still be here to say the same things when everyone else expects you to feel better.

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5 thoughts on “what to say.”

  1. I think one of the reasons that it’s so hard to know what to say in these situations is simply because there is nothing you can say that will lesson the grief. But I also think you beautifully point out that while there is nothing we can say – there is so much we can do. We can sit in the hurt when the world moves past. We can hold her up in prayer to the one who CAN help lessen her grief. We can offer a safe place and provide tangible comfort when words ring hollow. These moments simply surpass words – thank you for reminding us of that.

  2. My nephew was born still two years ago this month, at 41 weeks. As you wrote, nothing to say, surviving becomes the goal. Stay close and be there. Prayers to you and your friend.

  3. so very well said and from the heart, rachael. brings me to my knees. love that the lord can hear our hearts as they ache for others even when we dont have the words. hold on tight to the thoughts from Above. as we gather around those who have lost sweet innocent babes, we join alongside them in prayer to bring comfort.

  4. My daughter was stillborn over the summer at 35 weeks. You don’t have to say anything – but what you did say was perfect. She needs that. She needs reminders that God is good. That Jesus is King. That you will fight for her when she can barely stand. She’ll need that for a good long while and she’s so blessed to have you there for her.

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