Letter to the Grieving Mom Who is Having a Miscarriage

Dottie Soderstrom

Dear grieving mom,

I don’t know what moments stand out the most on your loss journey; for me, it’s the waiting that I’ll always remember—the excruciatingly long weekend my husband and I spent waiting for my hCG results.

Our loss began on a Tuesday afternoon, and I had bloodwork done on Wednesday and Friday to see if my hCG levels were rising or falling. Even though the lab results were in by Friday afternoon, due to a communication lag between the lab and our doctor’s office, we had to wait all weekend for the results to confirm what my body already knew: this baby was gone. In the absence of definitive lab results, we contended all weekend for the life of our little one. We prayed and we hoped. We cried and we sang. Our friends held out hope for us as well, but I could feel that my body was different. I wanted to pray for a miracle, but deep down, I was certain my hCG levels were dropping.

I had hoped that God would do a miracle like He did for Jairus’s daughter, “as He reached down into death and gently brought the little girl back to life1,” but that wasn’t our story. The tiny tissue the size of a raspberry resting on a generic maxi pad that Friday morning told me all I needed to know. Lab results on Monday wouldn’t change that.

That weekend we spent in limbo, waiting and wondering, weeping and wishing, will stand forever as one of the most profound moments in my walk with the Lord. I leaned in so close to hear His voice, to feel His comfort, to pray for His resurrection. In that valley in death’s shadow, He met me, and I will never be the same.

This Mother’s Day may feel tender and painful, or maybe it feels like nothing at all. Wherever you are, in numbness or sadness, Jesus is near.

To the mom who no longer feels pregnant but wishes she did...

To the mom who’s waiting to hear the results...

To the mom who’s upset that her baby’s healing didn’t come...

To the mom who doesn’t feel like celebrating this year…

In all of this, there is hope for tomorrow.

Jesus understands your sorrow.

Your womb might be empty,

but so is His tomb.

Give yourself the space you need to weep;

none of your tears are lost.

He holds them all just as He holds you.

There is life after death, and there is life right now.

You will see the goodness of our Lord in this land of the living.

You have not been forgotten, and this loss is not your fault.

Don’t believe for a moment that you did anything wrong.

It’s okay to wonder why Jesus healed someone else but not your baby. God understands your jealousy, and you don’t need to hide it from Him.

It’s okay, too, if your grief doesn’t feel as raw this year; you don’t need to feel guilty for not feeling “sad enough.” Honor wherever you are on your journey without pressure to be somewhere else.

Motherhood is an opportunity to lean into the sacrificial love of Christ, to carry His death as we also carry His life. It’s a chance to hope even in the long, dark weekend and to rise again in the midst of the grief that we were sure would bury us.

I’m a few years removed from my loss, and I didn’t think this Mother’s Day season would be an emotional one for me. Yet as I’ve written this letter, so many feelings have been stirred up, a sweet reminder that this little life mattered and has left an eternal impact on my heart, even if I don’t feel like I’m actively mourning. Grief is a rollercoaster, and we don’t always get to choose when or how we’ll feel the ups and downs and twists and turns. Through it all, however, the Lord is faithful, and He is with you.

Love, a mom who understands.

Meet the Author: Dottie Soderstrom

Author Bio: Dottie Soderstrom holds a PhD in English from Auburn University. She lives in Marion, Indiana with her husband and children where they serve and minister at Indiana Wesleyan University and Kingdom Life Church. She can be found on Instagram @dotterstrom.

Connect with Author: @dotterstrom