To the mom who of a baby whose body you lovingly held, you fed, rocked, and kissed—and then lowered into the ground. To the mom of a baby whose body quickly slipped away, and with no pictures to save. To the mom of a baby whose body you cradled in your hands—so petite and you couldn’t keep. To the mom of a baby whose limp frame you cradled near—so few minutes of your life spent here.

Death laying over those we love is not a welcomed sight. I despised the way it looked on my daughter, the motionless, lifeless character it took within my body, and the limpness it caused in my arms that held her empty frame after being born sleeping.

With those memories, I also consider that before God began the act of creating the cosmos, the earth, and mankind, He knew that in doing so He would also be coming to die.

Grieving the loss of a child has a way of creating an urgent desire for solid, biblical answers for any theological questions that arise in the heart—what has God truly said in His Word about why this kind of pain exists in the world?

The baby you greatly miss is not here. I know, I feel it too for mine. She was not here when we were hanging ornaments, and not here when wrapping last-minute presents in glowing Christmas light. They are not here with joy on their faces to receive gifts in celebration of the only Savior of this world. They are not here. And there is a felt void at every step through this time of year. We cannot fix it or change it. It is.

. . .  A call came. An unexpected call.

. . .  A call that seemed to come too soon.

. . .  A call no parent or grandparent anticipates.

. . .  A call, where on the other end of the line was the distraught voice of my youngest daughter, filled with pain and disbelief, as she cried, “Mom, there is no heartbeat.”

On this earth, you and I who are believers in Christ, are sojourners, strangers, exiles, resident aliens, and pilgrims. Do you feel like you do not belong here? I do. Our permanent address and citizenship is in heaven. Still, we will see later in 1 Peter 1:8-9 that being residents of heaven does not mean that the experience of joy is only reserved for that future place. But for now, we can take heart that if we long to follow our babies to the place of their and our citizenship, we are right to do so. For this is not only a longing of our hearts, but a part of who we are because of Christ. Those who have gone ahead of us remind us of our future home.

My first daughter’s third birthday is coming next month. One day before that is what many of us in the infant loss community call her “heaven day,” the day she met Christ. This third heaven day and birthday are the first when I will have another child in my arms. My arms are so full of my second child, but simultaneously so empty for my first that my heart pulls to try to close the gap between my first and me. If human love were as formidable as gravity unrelenting, I would pull them equally to myself. 

Recently, Lord Willing?" by Jessica Kelley came to the attention of women in our Hope Mommies private community. We are so thankful our community is a place for discussion and sharing of our ideas and journeys. Our shared Hope Mommies community has been founded upon a set of beliefs about the character and ways of God. So, when appropriate, we want to carefully provide a review for you of material introduced to our community that we consider outside of the scope of the Biblical beliefs this organization was founded upon. We extend to the author our own tears and sorrow over the loss of her dear son and are saddened by the trauma that she, her son, and her family experienced as he departed from this world. Thank you for understanding our efforts here to be desirous of sacrificing neither our calling to provide a theological review of this book for our precious community nor our extension, here, of our heartfelt sorrow to the author.

When my first daughter went to be with the Lord, one friend wrote to me, “There are no words.” There are no words to describe, quantify, or eliminate the pain of child loss—it was a depletion of my person in nearly every possible manner.

One of the first sentences out of our doctor's mouth when coming back into the hospital room to consult with us after we learned that our daughter no longer had a heartbeat was that we now had our own “angel” looking over us. We knew his comment was intended to give a measure of comfort, yet, we also knew it was not literally true.

The biblical facts of human sin help us understand why the cross is necessary—and further, they help us understand why the cross is the greatest act of love mankind could ever know. And this love gives endless comfort in the darkest of days. This post is primarily focused on the biblical concept of human sin. The next post is primarily focused on the salvation of Christ.

Have you tasted anything sweet in your soul after loss? Has there been anything since your baby went to heaven that has bolstered you beyond words? Maybe you have had a taste of heaven like never before because you now have a child there. Or maybe you have found a taste of fellowship like never before through connecting with other mothers who have stories of faith through loss. I hope that you have had the opportunity to taste something sweet.