Letter to the Grieving Mom, 6 Months After Her Baby Died

Crystal Midlik

Dear grieving mom,

I see your pain. I see every smile you use to cover how you truly feel. I understand deep in my heart the incredible weight you carry.

I remember the months following my daughter’s death, when support started to fade, and I watched my friends and family return to their lives. The Earth kept turning. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, vacations. It all kept going, and I felt trapped and frozen. Time marched on, but I could barely move. It was as if all stood still in my small corner of the world, the moment my daughter died.

Six months after was one of the darkest times for me. Reality set in that my daughter would never grow up. I would never make new memories with her. And expectations from others were high.

I “should” be fine by now.

I “should” be returning to the “old” me.

But, Mama, we know the truth. There is no returning to our lives before. There is only after.

I hope you know that you are strong, even in the moments when you feel as if you might crumble. You are bravely taking steps forward each day, without knowing what’s ahead or how to navigate this life. You are getting out of bed, when all you want to do is hide under the covers. You are giving what love you can to others, even while your heart feels broken beyond repair. This persistence is a triumph.

I also hope you know that there is no road map for grief, especially when loss is out of order. To have a child die defies nature. It defies logic. There is no “should” for a Mama who has to say goodbye to her baby. My wish for you is time and space to grieve as needed. I pray for a circle of people who are not afraid of grief, but instead encourage it and sit in that dark space with you. There is no avoiding the deep pain. The only way is through. Find people who will sit with you and listen as you tell the limited stories you have about your baby. Most importantly - find people who won’t try to fix or change you.

Be kind to yourself and find ways to honor your feelings and be gentle with your heart. Write letters to your baby. Take walks in the forest, or wade into the sand and surf. Scream into the ocean as the waves roar back. Talk with a therapist or counselor, in a safe space without judgment or expectation. Read books or devotionals about grief to help you feel less alone. Paint. Draw. Color. Create. Whatever brings you small moments of joy.

Because, Mama, you will find joy again. It was difficult for me to believe, but I clung to this truth from others who experienced this loss. Joy will start out small. It might even shock you at first. It might cause feelings of guilt when it first resurfaces. But joy is how we keep going. Joy and grief can walk hand and hand. We can laugh in one moment and cry in the next. Sometimes we laugh and cry together! But joy will find its way to you, and my wish is that you seek it out and hold on when you discover it. Trust that hope and joy are possible. It doesn’t mean your grief is over or that you love your baby any less. It just means you are human, with a broad spectrum of feelings and emotions.

No matter what others might tell you or lead you to believe, you are still a mother. You are the best mother to your precious child, and you will be for the rest of your days. This motherhood journey does not look at all like we hoped, but we are here to honor our babies, say their names, and find ways to keep living for them. One step, one hour, one day at a time.

You are a mother, and you are loved.

Love, a mom who understands

MEET THE AUTHOR: Crystal Midlik

Crystal lives in Virginia with her husband, Steve, and their two boxer pups, Crosby and Sadie. They are parents to their precious daughter in heaven, Sienna Grace. Steve and Crystal support the local organization, Weighted Angels, which provides weighted stuffed animals and support to pregnancy and infant loss families.