Let Her Be

Posted by on Aug 8, 2017 in Update | 2 Comments

A member at our church lost their dear little baby yesterday. When I heard the news I wrote this down:

A bereaved mother is called strong, even though she feels like anything but strong. One day she will pick herself up and keep going, but for now let her cry.

Let her be.

Her heart is shattered into more pieces than you can count. Years will pass and she will still hurt.

Let her be.

She will no longer hold her precious baby in her arms, but only in her heart. Nobody else in the world will know her pain. She alone carries this pain.

Let her be.

She is in anguish – physically and emotionally. Her arms ache from the emptiness. Her throat hurts from screaming. Her heart feels like it has been shattered.

Let her be.

Her dreams will be haunted. She will not sleep. She will do nothing but cry and sleep. Food will taste like ash in her mouth

. Let her be. I repeat, let her be.

For she will cry and scream for the child that once was here and now is gone. Yes, there are words of comfort that can be offered,  but just let her be.

Let her cry.

Bring her food. Bring her tissues. The best thing you can do for her is say her child’s name and let her be. One day she will pick her self up and function again, don’t rush her.

Let her be.

She is now a bereaved mother and she will never be the same.

So, let her be.

 It is amazing that we have all the words in the world, yet none them even come close to describing the pain a parent feels when they lose their child.  The pain is unmeasurable and incomparable. Perhaps that’s why friends and family just don’t know what to do. We are at a complete loss when a child dies. If I can give any words of advise in my 3 years down this grief journey it is:

Let the parents talk, cry, or scream – whatever they need to do.

Love them.

Don’t try to offer words of encouragement (this includes any religious cliches)

Don’t try to compare your loss to theirs.

If your sentence starts with ‘at least’ – don’t say it.

Bring them food, groceries or an act of service.

Say their child’s name.

I wish I could end this post on an upbeat note, but given life and its cruelty I just can’t. So, I end with this, hold your babies tight, give them extra kisses. For there is a mother who will never get to hold or kiss their baby again.


  1. Carol Gay Plumb
    August 8, 2017

    What a beautiful tribute to Phoenix. We love you.
    Losing a granddaughter was so awful. What you have gone through is unimaginable to us.
    Thank you for sharing this. The Lord will use it to help people who are going through what you have and people who in trying to be nice make things infinitely worse.

  2. Amy
    August 8, 2017

    Things You Can Do If You Are A Friend

    My first friend… I helped her manage her milk coming in. She chose to pump for 6 weeks and donate to another baby. She desperately wanted to hold my baby, so I let her.

    The second time a close friend had me at her birth. I was her doula. The midwife was so rattled she did not remember how to do CPR so I took over until the EMS arrived. Then I sat with her for two weeks. I slept at her house, took care of her kids and took care of her and the daddy. I helped arrange the funeral and took her shopping for the baby’s funeral dress and her own; my man and I went at midnight to buy clothes for her children and husband to wear. I picked up the Remembrance box from ths hospital. I arranged for her house to be cleaned while she was gone, and for security at the house during the services. I assigned meal train coordinators, who thoughtfully coordinated meals for MY family, too, since I was gone. And months later, I would rush to her side whenever she called.

    Some time, ask Luke if he can share his POV. I know the daddies have separate but equal pain. Gabe shaved his head, he needed to see his pain physically represented.


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