Practical Presence
On more than one occasion over the last couple years and some change, I've been asked what practical ways people can show they love and care when friends and loved ones experience a miscarriage, stillbirth, or preterm labor. While my heart is God's heart on this—that no woman shall miscarry, no woman shall be barren (Exodus 23:26)—we're living in a sin-affected world, so unfortunately they do happen, and more often than you may think. So, I wanted to write this to be a reference for those who have asked what they can do because we have been so open about our experience.
I've titled this "Practical Presence", but it's a double meaning—both practical presence and practical presents (gifts). It's important to know that being present is a present that is practical and necessary. Every woman, every parent who experiences miscarriage is different so what they need in their time of loss will vary from person to person. But what is important always is presence. For some, that may mean your physically being in their presence, available and listening if they want to talk. For others, maybe you live far away so being physically present isn’t possible, and you’re able to be present emotionally, checking in, sending meals, etc. Support like a good bra is so important! It is okay to ask how they need to be supported—from sports bra support to underwire, full-coverage, 4 hooks kinda support. There is no one-size-fits-all in how to support your friend's loss.
I know you aren't looking for the answer to your what do I do to be just ask, so I also want to include some practical ideas for you, some "practical presents", if you will. Some of these will be from my experience and what was helpful and supportive to me. Some of these are from other women and how they felt best supported. Nevertheless, thank you for your heart to not let your friend suffer in silence and alone. Thank you for wanting to be practically present. Thank you for wanting her pain not to be overlooked and for validating her pain of losing her unborn child. It means more than you know.
1. Listen.
So many times in our lives when trauma or tragedy or loss happens, we feel so deeply compelled to say just the right words... and if we can't think of just the right ones, at least say something that sounds good or helpful to us. We mean well. We've got the best intentions. But friends, it's better to be more intentional with your presence than making sure you say just the right words. The truth is, when we try to come up with just those right words, we often make ourselves the standard of measurement by what we gauge will be helpful. And often times—because we are individuals, created individually, with individual experiences, hearts, needs, and desires—those things that would be helpful for you won't match up with what your friend is needing... and that's okay. But listen, friends, even if you're sitting with your friend who's enduring the loss of her child listening to silence and tears, she's not alone. Your being okay to just listen means more than your ability to say just the right words. Listening and being silent are not always the same thing.
2. Prayer.
Prayer is so very important. However, because prayers are words... don't go off-roading with your prayers, filling them with the words you wanted to say in the silence while you were listening. It's okay for your prayers to be simple and short. If you don't know what to pray, pray for the things you need most in times of sorrow... comfort, Father's presence, provision for all needs. They don't have to be wildly specific.
"I was so upset and angry and didn't want to talk to God... so it was nice having friends pray the words that I wasn't able to pray."
Pray for them for the grieving process and that it points them to Jesus and not away. That Holy Spirit, the Comforter, shows up and meets them in the deep, dark places. That’s where He met me. Loss led to grief and grief became an invitation.
3. Flowers + Cards.
When you seek to encourage, encourage but don't advise. Don't say "It's okay, you'll have other babies", or "Good thing you have other children at home" or to the mom and dad who have been trying to conceive, "When you stop trying that's when it'll happen... that's what happened with so-and-so". Those words are not helpful. Like at all. The loss of a child at any stage is heartbreaking. You'd never say to someone who has lost a parent "at least you still have a parent". Starting any sentence with "at least" minimizes the painful reality of their loss. Please, please give flowers and cards not painful words. When we lost Zadok our mailbox was flooded with love. Flowers meant the world to me. People give flowers to those who have lost loved ones, so flowers validated his existence outside of Mason and me. And cards came non-stop. Apologies and warmest sympathies and prayers. Feeling seen is a beautiful thing in such a place.
4. Meal Trains.
I had a friend set up a meal train which was so so helpful. There’s something debilitating about deep grief… the weight of the heart seems it’s zapping your energy to move or, for some, numbs the purpose in moving. Removing the brain and legwork from eating was such a gift. If no one sets up a meal train, send a simple text saying "Hey, I'm picking up dinner from this place, what do you want?" My body was going through all the natural drops in hormones and postpartum but without a child to make it easier or smoother, so we also had friends who invited us out of the house for dinner at their place. Food is a necessity. As is support and community. I believe community and food are a match made in the heart of Heaven, both for mourning and rejoicing.
5. Housework + Practical Favors.
I remember having friends who offered to do our laundry, wash our dishes, take care of our dog, clean our house. The flowers meant the world to me, but that also made it devastating when the flowers died too, so one of my friends offered to come over and take care of all my dead, smelly, moldy flowers for me. If they have other children, offer to pick them up from school, take them for a little adventure, ask how their children are doing so you know parameters for conversation—the children may not know and it's not yours to tell them.
“And maybe even people stepping up to mow grass, or fix things around the house. Especially if there was some type of surgery involved that I had to be down in recovery for, his priority was me and taking care of us, so maybe someone to take on some of his "responsibilities" since he was having to cover mine.”
6. Acknowledgement.
Acknowledge that they lost a baby. Break the silence. Be a safe place to share, a safe place for your friend to cry and grieve and feel. It's okay to say "I'm sorry for your loss". It hurts to not have the loss of a life acknowledged. Mourn with them. Romans 12:15 says to "weep with those who weep".
7. Care Packages.
In the flood of mail we received, among them was a Hope Box from Hannah's Hope (Photo 1 below). I also received a Hope Box from I Am Fruitful (Photo 2 below). Both are specifically for those enduring a miscarriage. You can also make your own care package—I had a friend deliver one the day we got home from the hospital, with a candle, a journal, bath bombs, tea, and a few other items with a thoughtful handwritten card (Photo 3 below).
8. Remember.
While everyone goes on with their lives, others often forget and move on. The mom and dad, however, have not. I had 4 friends/co-workers who showed up at my house on Zadok's due date (December 12th) with gifts and a picture they had painted for me. Geez, was that a big deal! Set a calendar reminder in your phone for their due date the next year, but remember the weeks and months after, the upcoming milestones. Check-in with them. Remember on holidays, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. Remember on Mother's Day and Father's Day. Mommas and daddies who have lost a baby won't forget just as much as you won't forget your loved ones who have passed, so don't be afraid to remember their babies out loud rather than not say anything out of fear of them remembering and being sad. Zadok was born on Monday, July 2. For me, Monday was the hardest day of the week til Father started redeeming Mondays for me; every month on the 2nd, his due date, and holidays were the toughest. It’s natural for people to move on, but it’s also painful when people expect you to have moved on so quickly after losing a child when it’s societally appropriate to grieve friends, parents, older kids, etc. for much longer. This is complicated grief where they are grieving their baby they've only known through a heartbeat that says they're alive and real, felt movement, and/or the short moments of breathing before passing, along with their dreams and plans for them and what life was going to look like.
If they choose to have a memorial or funeral and they've invited you, be there. Consider it an honor to be invited into such a vulnerable space. Blankets, jewelry, artwork, ornaments, etc. are beautiful gestures for them to remember.
9. Understanding Loss is Loss.
Don't belittle another's pain by the amount of time mom carried baby in her body. A loss at 25 weeks is painful. A loss at 8 weeks gestation is also painful. Please, friends, don't let "at least you were only ____ far along" come from your mouth. Loss is loss. They aren't all the same. The journey to pregnancy isn't the same, whether it was 6 months trying or 6 years. Understand your friend has lost a child and, with them, dreams, expectations, and possibly hope.
10. Distractions are Okay.
But distraction and forgetting are not the same thing. There were times I needed to be alone to sit with my heart and my Lord. But other times I needed to get away for a moment... float or be dragged towards the shore, if you will. Grief is a wild ocean where you can't always feel the ground. With distractions, know that if you take a trip to Target and walk by baby stuff the distraction is only so strong, ya feel me?! And that's okay. Tears are a beautiful gift... even if crying makes your nose stuffy and lips swell like mine. I'm thankful for the prayers my tears pray and the seeds they water.
11. Patience.
Patience in their grieving. Patience with their response time to texts and calls. Patience with their time to talk about it. Patience with them getting to a new normal, not just back to normal. Just patience. What a beautiful gift. One of the most beautiful acts of patience and time I experienced was from my boss and co-workers at the time. I was off work for 2 weeks and they really wouldn't let me come back any sooner... and I sure tried! I didn't know how much patience I needed with myself.
12. Check on Dad.
While it was my body going through physical changes acting as constant reminders, not as many people checked on Mason that checked on me. So check on the dad. Ask how he’s doing… even give him space and permission to breathe and feel. It’s no less devastating; he’s lost a child too, though his reminder is the woman who’s grieving with her postpartum body reminding her.
“…for my husband, just acknowledging that it was his loss too.”
“[My husband] just appreciated us being prayed over and for people to text and check in on him.”
“[My husband]… just really appreciated people taking care of me!”
“[My husband] had a couple friends acknowledge that the baby in my belly is our 3rd son, not our second. He was very touched by that.”
13. Pregnancy after Loss.
Having a child after miscarrying or losing a baby does not erase the loss. The new baby isn't a placeholder for the baby they lost.
“Pregnancy after loss is so hard. Checking off each milestone is huge. It's a fight to not lose joy in the Pregnancy. Speaking God's truth over yourself.”
“I wish I would have been honest about how I was truly feeling but after struggling with infertility. I didn't think I deserved to feel any of that so I kept it all to myself. That was really hard.”
This was primarily written from a perspective of losing a child while pregnant, but I believe it very much also applies to failed adoptions and infant loss. Grief will look different for every person, including each mom and dad individually. What I/we needed may not be what they need, and yet we often didn't know what we needed beyond our son coming back, to wake up and find it was a horrible nightmare. So be present, friends. Ask specific questions. If they've named their baby, call the baby by their name. Be gentle but not afraid.
Most of you know I was a part of an organization and faith-based fertility support group called Moms in the Making (MITM) from March 2018 to January 2022. In writing this particular blog, I reached out to a group of leaders I served with and asked if there was anything they would like to contribute. Many of them have never been pregnant, many have experienced loss, and many have since had full-term pregnancies or have become parents via foster care and adoption. Their experiences are vast. Some had what and who they needed, and some would do things differently or wish they had different. They are who I’ve quoted both throughout this post and below. Nevertheless, I wanted to show you our experiences are all different and your friend going through this type of loss will likely desire the same things, similar things, and different things. This “adventuring on” may seem a bit somber, and I think that’s okay. These are some of the places that are shadowy in the valleys, feeling far from the sun. These are the storms on our journeys that bring rainbows. And as you adventure on there or you join your friend on that leg of their adventure, Jesus joins us there too. Thank you for desiring to love well.
“Repeatedly check in. Ask if there is anything they can do. Grab coffee, go to the store, buy them dinner. Pray over them and send them a voice memo of it.”
“I really found it encouraging when people reached out just to tell me they were praying for us. A few people sent me cards, or special little remembrance gifts that are very special to me.”
“Being willing to listen/talk about it with me, even if it made them uncomfortable. Personally I didn't even mind intrusive questions, just because I felt like at least someone was trying to understand better what I was going through.”
“I know everyone is different, and some people don't want to share, but for me being an external processor, being completely shut off from the world after our first loss (before I found MITM) did so much more harm than good.”
“Everyone avoided me like the plague because they didn't want to upset me, but instead it just isolated me and made me feel like no one cared.”