May 4, 2010
Brokenhearted Love: Give It, Live It.
I’ve gotten a lot of emails from people about grief in the last two and a half years. Some I’ve been able to answer personally, some I haven’t. There’s really no formula for how I decide which ones to answer and which ones not to. It’s more of an in-the-moment thing, where I have 15 minutes and can pour my soul into a response to a complete stranger.
Many of the emails come from people who know someone who just lost a baby–someone from church, a family member, a close friend. That’s probably because the people who just lost the baby are not even sure what’s happening and are completely and utterly in shock. The people on the outside have their heads on straight enough, relatively speaking, to put an email together and ask for help, or even just commiseration.
The one thing I’ve found myself writing to these people over and over again is this: Give brokenhearted love. Ask God to give you a broken heart. That will go further with your friend than any meal or house-cleaning ever could. Granted, I think meals and house-cleaning are immensely important to offer, and some people will be particularly gifted in giving those things. But if you want to go deeper into the loss with your friend, you’re going to have to be heartbroken.
For one thing, grief is really isolating. Especially when it’s a baby who is stillborn, people can sometimes think things like, “Oh, well the baby never lived outside the womb. It’s not like they knew that baby or anything.” And when you come home without a baby, there’s very little evidence that that child ever existed. So when you’re going through the hell of grief, it can feel like you were the only one who lost that baby, and that everyone else’s life has just moved on.
And in some sense, that’s true. Most people are not marking the days and weeks the same way as you are. But there will be a few who will.
And I suppose that’s who I’m writing for, the people who remember.
In our culture, people don’t like to talk about death. And dead babies??? Forget it. That’s because it’s horrifying. I’ll never forget how terrified I was to look at Felicity for the first time. And she was my child.
But brokenhearted love will choose to take on the horror and bear it with you.
In the first few weeks after we lost Felicity, a stranger who I didn’t know (but who went to our church) was signed up to bring me a meal. I kind of had my brave face on to answer the door, get through the interaction, get the food, exchange a few pleasantries back and forth, and get back to my existence.
But there was something very different about this person. As she handed me the food, she was sobbing. I’m not exaggerating here–tears flowing down her face. I was completely disarmed. I remember eventually she asked me if she could see Felicity’s room, if we had it set up. And before I knew it, I was climbing the stairs with this complete stranger, taking her into one of the most sacred spaces in my home.
It felt kind of crazy, but it felt safe. Because she was heartbroken. Just like me, heartbroken.
And even just last week, I had someone tell me that she stopped at Felicity’s grave. And she told me, through her tears, what she was thinking and feeling about that. It’s been two and a half years. She’s never told me anything like that before. And so we stood in her back yard and cried real tears together.
This is the bravery of brokenhearted love.
People who are grieving need to know that they’re not alone. They need to know that their loss is somehow your loss too. Tell them that you visited the cemetery–not for brownie points, but because you want to remember with them. Tell them that you cried in the bathtub the other day. Tell them that when you hear a certain song it takes the breath out of your lungs.
I’ll warn you: you might cry when you tell them these things. HALLELUJAH! You have NO idea what that will mean to someone who’s grieving. Let it FLOW! What are we holding it together for anyway? So our mascara doesn’t run? So we won’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable? There’s a reason that lump forms in your throat. It’s because you’re holding something in that wants to come out!
So if you’re wondering what you can give your grieving friend, I know it sounds totally cliche, but…give them your heart. Lay it bare. Entering into their pain and sharing your experience of the loss will be profoundly comforting.
I’ve made it through the last two years and seven months because of brokenhearted love. It’s been a gift to me, from those who were willing to give it.
I didn’t lose a baby, I lost a 19 year old son. My firstborn. My only son. And you are right. I can’t tell you how touched I am when people send me a card on his birthday, or when they send a card on the anniversary of his death (over 8 years ago), or when they just say they thought of him the other day…or if they ask what he was like at a certain age – or just mention his name. It seems like most people are very uncomfortable even saying his name, like they are afraid it will bring back memories. What they don’t understand is that I think about him every single day.
[...] Piper calls on us to give broken-hearted love to those who grieve. We don’t have to have answers. We don’t have to always help. Just [...]
We find it relatively easy to rejoice with those who rejoice ~ but weeping with those who weep is just as beautiful, but so much harder. I’ve been on both the receiving and giving end of that, by God’s gracious providence. Thank you for these practical examples on living out Romans 12:15.
Thank you for this post. Thank you for being so honest and authentic about your heartache. I lost my mom this winter and am still trying to figure out how this grieving thing works. I agree with you the people in my life who have entered into my mourning have meant the world to me. Thank you so much with sharing your life.
This was an awesome post! I lost my dad two months ago, my grandpa almost two years ago, and my mom sixteen years ago (I was only ten then) and I could relate to so much of what you wrote. Grief is a terribly lonely place and having people there with you through all of that helps immensely. Sometimes I feel like I can’t talk about how I’m feeling because I feel like people don’t want to hear it, like I’m just supposed to put on a happy face and pretend like everything’s okay and it’s so sad that our culture is like that. I know death is a normal part of life, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve felt so isolated in my grief at times and just wanted someone to understand what I was going through, but it seems like there are few people out there willing to put themselves out there for someone like that. Those few who do are true blessings in the life of a grieving person.
Thanks for writing this – it’s so true and helpful.
Thank you for permission. I have always been the one to hold back with the desire to not stir up anything that doesn’t want to be stirred in the grieving person. My thinking was maybe they don’t want to be reminded of the pain(duh, they think about it all the time). I think I’ve totally missed it. Thank you for this insight.
of course this brings tears. i’m glad you wrote this post.
I was sent to your blog by a friend a few months after the stillbirth of my sweet Ella this past October. I have never commented because most of the posts I read here are older. However, I just wanted to say I appreciate you writing this one. I was nodding along in agreement with much of what you say here. It has been so touching for me to hear people say they miss her, or that they are thinking about her. And I am usually very happy to talk about her with anyone who asks. Yes, there are times where I do not want to share what is on my heart or the most personal of experiences with strangers, but more often than not – I just want to shout her name out loud for everyone to hear. So they can know her and her life, and her importance in this world. I know that most people will forget – but I won’t. And I am thankful for those who will remember with me. – good post -
Molly, this post took the breath out of my lungs! Thank you for sharing you thoughts and emotions in such a real and open way. I totally agree with you. My closest friends now are those who not only shared my grief after our miscarriage, but shared their own grief with me. I was just amazed at what the Lord brought out of that time. Thank you for helping me remember that today. Much love!
What a beautiful post. When I suffered a miscarriage a couple of years ago, one of the most meaningful things was when my sister-in-law told me she had cried for me in the shower that morning. It meant so much that someone else was feeling my sadness with me in such a real way, especially since my miscarriage happened SUPER early on and I felt a little guilty for being so distraught over it, when it felt like others had lost babies much later in pregnancy or even after birth. Her crying for me told me that it was OK to be sad…that this was a tiny little PERSON we lost…that I didn’t need to feel stupid or silly for grieving. Anyway. Thanks for sharing that.
(p.s. for the record — I didn’t know who you were or that you had a blog at the time, but I very specifically remember sitting on my couch, holding Will & just crying for you when I first heard about Felicity. I just wanted to tell you that.)
Thank you for sharing your story….I too lost my baby early and have been feeling guilty for all the tears and not being able to tell people what is going on I never told anyone I was pregnant I was savoring with just my husband and myself. We are taking a family vacation and we were going to tell everyone then…..now I feel alone more than ever. Thanks again for letting me know its ok.
Molly this is a beautifully written post that says SO much! When someone I love hurts, I feel their pain right along side them. Definitely not in the same way as them, but my heart breaks right with them. I’ve never told them this though as I don’t want to make them feel badly. I don’t want to ruin a “good day” or make them sadder than they already are. I have NEVER seen it from this point of view and I am thankful to you for showing this side to me.
You eloquently expressed in ways I have not been able to my deep gratitude for faithful friends who loved me like this through my own loss. Thank you.
I think everyone in.the.world needs to read your blog.
This is SOOO true. SO true. Fifteen years ago I lost a close friend in a car accident. Not just my friend, but her husband and daughter too. They were enroute from her parent’s home to their own home (a 700 mile trip) and the accident happened to be just 50 miles east of where I live. On the one year anniversary of the accident, I took a vacation day from work, drove to the accident site with my Bible and cried – and prayed for my friend’s family, particularly her parents, who I knew only slightly. I wrote them a note while I sat there and told them where I was – and why. They called me when they got it, and we cried on the phone together and shared stories. I never imagined how much it would mean to them, but as I read your post, I remembered it. Broken hearted love.
Thank you for this. I have a friend whose husband is very ill and you have given me the courage to give her my broken heart.
Yes! This is truly walking with our friends and family through the ups and downs of life. Giving your heart and broken-hearted love.
I have so appreciated your writing and honesty through your loss of Felicity. I have learned so much about how to love others. Thank you.
Just before our baby was stillborn, at a routine ultrasound, I had a friend with me. This would be the day we found out our little boy had died.
The US tech was new, inexperienced and scanned me for 20 minutes talking about how she couldn’t get him to move into a better position, had me use the bathroom (twice), drink some OJ…all kinds of stuff. My friend was in the room with me, and she, and I, and the tech were having a good time chatting. I know it must look ignorant, but I had no idea anything was wrong
She finally said she was going to get her supervisor to see if she could help. The supervisor took one look, told them to call the doctor, everything began moving fast…when the doctor came in, he was blunt, “There’s no good way to tell you this, but your baby is dead.”
Something that strikes me to this day, is that the thing I remember about that moment, was hearing *my friend* burst into sobs simultaneously. Right with me. The shock, the sadness…I will never forget how that news hit her as it hit me. I love her for that moment.
Good message today, Molly…spot on. Since that day in the fall of 2007, I have since decided I’d rather look foolish and share in the grief and suffering of those who experience loss, than stand at a comfortable distance. It’s too lonely there in the center of the grief and it helps to have a friend.
Thanks for sharing this Molly. So often I have been brokenhearted over those who experience the loss of a child. But sometimes, I think, “Is it weird to be grieving so for someone I haven’t even met?” I guess it isn’t :) and I pray I will be less hesitant to show my pain and grief for them the next time I meet someone who is experiencing or has experienced a loss.
sniff….
Thank you. I think I will foward this to a few people…:-)
You don’t know me. I found you through a friend’s blog. But, reading this blog came at a perfect time for me. MY friend’s father just passed in a freak softball accident a week ago. I have been grieving the loss of him for myself, and for her. It is so tragic to lose someone without preparing for it. So, thank you for these words. ANd, I am sorry for your loss.
One of the hardest things for me in losing my dad is when people who knew him and were there at the funeral, ask how long he has been gone and when I answer, they respond, “Wow, it’s been that long!” When you think about the person you lost EVERY, SINGLE day, it all of the sudden doesn’t seem like time goes by so fast anymore.
Great post…in the nearly 14 years since I lost Madison, I have never had anyone be this kind of friend to me. I have grieved alone, and it’s been hard. I try really hard to practice this kind of love with others though…thanks for posting this Molly!
Kathryn
You are no longer alone you have all of us that are on this sight….Im weeping as I read each one of our stories. Thank you for your courge
Thank you for putting into words that which I could not. I lost my baby at an early gestational age one month ago. Last night women with whom I teach a Bible study prayed with me and cried with me. I didn’t realize until I was driving home how desperately I needed those shared tears; in their genuine expression of sharing a piece of my burden they acknowledged my child.
i’m so sorry for your loss molly. until 5 minutes ago i’d not heard of your or felicity but i have a dear friend who’s cooper was stillborn. his service was this morning. my other friend showed your blog today. so poignant – so poetic – so filled with inspiration and amazing council. thank you – i will love my friend with my broken heart. i will not hide behind strength. thank you for giving me the the confidence to do so. you are blessing so many and i pray you are blessed tenfold in return.
Yes, yes, yes. You said it all, sweet Molly. Thank you for this.
*Yes*, Molly! ( Thanks for your HALLELUJAH!)
A broken heart shows we get it, and “it” can be a whole lot of things.
I tend to have delayed emotional reactions, or have a disconnect in mourning over and with.
A broken heart, tears, are things to pray God would give me. When he has given, I’ve been very thankful.
And like you said, it’s not for brownie points that we share. A balm to shared grief is company in it.
God bless the woman who came crying to your door! I’m glad you could trust and receive the woman’s openness. Sometimes that’s a hard choice, too–to receive someone else’s desire to mourn with you.
Amen, Molly, Amen. I couldn’t have said it better myself!
Hi Molly
As always you have put it so right. It warms my heart when I go to the crematorium and see that someone has been and left flowers and not even needed to tell me. That feels special. We recently had the one year anniversary of Poppy’s death, at 7 hours old she managed to touch many many hearts, and it is those broken hearts that have kept ME going. A lady came with flowers that I barely knew, but she remembered, that touched me like nothing else. I know she will not be forgotten. I have JUST found out I am pregnant again, and yes…I dare to hope, because what else can we do. I am so happy but so scared, and just getting through one day at a time. So I am with you, 100%. Thanks Molly for making us feel normal x
Molly, Thanks for this post. I have lost 2 babies in the last 15 months and I’m expecting again. I have felt so alone this year because no one else around me was going through this pain. In fact, ALL of my friends got pregnant and had babies (even multiples) around me. They even formed a “moms group” that naturally excluded me. I wanted so bad for someone to say “I am with you in this place right now.” In fact, I’ve often thought about how I can help educate those who don’t hurt love those who are hurting. And I’ve always been on comforted end of the spectrum.
Just last night I received horrible news that a friend of mine, expecting within a week of me lost her baby. She lives hundreds of miles away and I all I wanted to do was go drive to her and hug her. I laid in bed thinking about my losses knowing that her pain helped me see my pain with more purpose and I know her pain will serve a greater purpose when she can say to the next hurting woman, “I’ve been there.”
I am not on the comforter end and I have a whole new perspective on how to love someone going through this unspeakable pain. Thanks for your words. I will share this on my own blog as a reminder to those who don’t understand the pain, but want to love someone anyway.
Molly, thank you so much. You have “educated” me so well over the past couple of years on how to share grief with friends, but this post is just what I needed today! My daughter has a very sever heart defect, and as we have been dealing with this for two years we have naturally been immersed in a world full of babies and children with heart defects. Our daughter is doing great, but so many of our friends have lost their babies and young children to the same defect. This past year a friend from church lost her daughter at a day old, and other friends lost their son after a long 8-month stay in the hospital. He never got to leave. And I think about them almost every day, and I cry for them and I pray for them. On Easter Sunday, they were all I could think about as we sang (and I wept) in church.
But I have held back in calling and emailing and sending notes, because I have felt like the fact that my daughter is still alive would cause them more pain. And even as I write that, I see how silly it is. So THANK YOU for writing, and freeing me to love them with my broken heart, and to let them know that I have not forgotten their children, or their birthday, or they day they died. I will let them know today.
And I want you to know that although we have never met, I also think of you and your sweet Felicity often, and I have cried for you, too.
Blessings to you, Molly!
I often worry that I would ruin a good moment. I wonder if the person I want to love has put so much energy into being happy at that moment, that if I cry with them, they will wish I had smiled along. Is this a valid concern at all?
Thanks again for your post. I linked back to it from my blog yesterday, so several of my friends read it. And then last night I was able to share with my Bible study how I feel in need right now. This past week has been incredibly hard for me as mother’s day is quickly approaching and it will be the first one without my mom. As I was sharing last night weeping in front of my closest friends, 4 or 5 friends (a couple of them who had read your post) were weeping alongside with me. It was amazing to experience the brokenhearted love because I find myself desiring that above all.
Hi Molly,
thank you for sharing your thoughts… my heart SO GREATLY resonated with you. We lost our first born grandson Jay Benjamin in July 2008 and experienced alot of what you have posted. Actually the thought about us never having known him, was spoken too. I was on a pastoral staff at the time, and the leadership “over” me said and did things that were so hard and almost 22 months later (and I have since resigned) we are still trying to truly forgive and extend grace. When Jay’s little brother was born last year before Christmas 2009, someone (who IS a counsellor) met me and asked me “so is your grief over now that Everett is born?” Never have we experienced such great joy (Everett’s birth) and great sorrow (remembering Jay’s silent birth) existing at the same time…
That being said, we have experienced amazing support/love of friends, some whom also go past the little cemetary… and our broken hearts are healing.
Thanks again for sharing. I appreciate your honesty and openness.
Thanks for writing this, friend. Thank you for reminding me to *tell* you the times that I cry over Felicity. The past couple years I have found myself grieving her death so much in private, but not telling you as often as I should. What good does it do for you if I cry over her in my car or doing the dishes, but never open my mouth and let you into *my* pain over your daughter. I’m going to do better at this. It’s really important to me that I do.
I love you.
Dear Molly,
You are a gifted writer. This post was beautiful and moved me to tears also – for you and for myself. You pointed out that “grief is really isolating”. I have certainly felt this and find it one of the most frustrating aspects of grief, particularly as time goes on (almost 2 years later). I still desperately (not so much as in the first few weeks) want people to FEEL what it was like to have Matthew die in my arms one hour after his birth. Not to focus on the one hour he was alive and express how fortunate we were to get that hour, which we were, but I want them to feel what it was like to have my baby dying over that hour (which he was). He never cried, he never breathed properly (apart from a few gasps), he never opened his eyes, or heard our voices. It wasn’t like one hour of “normal” life then suddenly death. He was born to die (he had anencephaly). I’m sure most people around me don’t get that at all. There are so few people who will cry with you (I can think of maybe 4 who have). I agree that it is a huge blessing. Just last week I was talking about Matthew’s funeral to my new women’s bible study group (many hadn’t been there) as an example of Christian fellowship, and how I would never forget the way people from our church came together for us that day, in big ways (catering, welcoming people to the church, videoing the ceremony etc) and small (just showing up). Anyway, as I was describing this, the leader of our group (who I don’t know particularly well) teared up as she listened. I was quite shocked, and I so wished I could “have a moment” with her but the timing wasn’t right for me. Now that you’ve written that post, I understand why her response amazed me so much. It is special. And as for mascara, I stopped wearing it the day I got Matthew’s diagnosis. I want to be able to cry whenever the need arises!
Thanks so much for your writing and openess.
Thank you for this Molly. My husband is a pastor of a church plant in downtown atlanta.
He just preached a sermon on Grief. We started a series on Psalms.. Orientation, disorientation, and reorientation.. Aren’t the Psalms so easily all three of those things?
So as he was sharing our story of losing our 3rd daughter at 31 weeks throughout the sermon.. he eventually came to a part about those that have really responded to our grief and why it was impacting. I think you nailed what was on the tip of my tongue. I have been humbled and blessed by those that are brokenhearted with me. They allow me to “grieve with ease”. The hard part is that it has come in stages with friendships here and there.. But when it comes, it really feels like the arms of Christ in the midst of heart ache.
Thank you for sharing.
Molly,
I am in shock. My friend lost her son 3 weeks and 3 days ago. He was still born just as precious Felicity was. I have wept and hurt in so many way that i cant begin to explain. I am told that i have so much empathy that is just a gift. That maybe its Gods way to show me and show others through me how much he loves us. But i sometimes hate it. My friend gabby set this blog to me and it felt just as though you spoke to me because i have yet to cry to my friend. she has been my back bone in our friendship and have brought me through so much pain and struggles in my life that i feel so ridiculous telling her i am hurting desperately for her and sweet christopher. I feel silly to hurt this much because i feel that i ned to be that normal friend. The friend that doesnt cry the one she can be normal with. yet i miss chris. its so so silly that miss him so much i feel so ridiculous molly. and i hurt because i want to tell her she isnt alone but i feel so dumb. I went to the cemetery to talk to God to pray that these emotions be for him and that he cannel them to do his will but i am so scared that maybe his will is for me to tell her how much i hurt but i dont want to do that. Im so scared. I want to do what God wants but this means i let down my wall and i just dont think i can. Its not fair that she has to hold it togethe so much and for so many and here i am crying for her ad for her husband and her two daughters and her little baby boy that is gone she doesnt and shouldnt have to deal with me and my crying thats just crazy. I just need help molly because i am so scared….
Maggie
Thank you for this post, Molly.
And thank you for responding to my e-mail two years ago.
Our baby girl was stillborn 3 weeks and 5 days ago, due to an “umbilical cord accident”. We were just 3 weeks away from her due date. Carrying her was one of the greatest blessings of my life, and the people that have helped me the most through this time are the ones who acknowledge our precious gift and grieve with us. God has blessed us with a very strong, caring church body, and it has been wonderful to see them pouring out the love of Christ on us during this time.
We lost a baby boy at 20 weeks in 2008 and this is one of the best post I’ve read about dealing with grief. It’s so true that brokenhearted love is what you need during such a devestating time. Thanks for sharing.
Molly, Thanks so much for this! I have always been reluctant to “weep with those who weep” because I did not want them to feel the burden of comforting me. I can see now that there is a difference and that “weeping with those who weep” isn’t about my grief but really sharing in theirs and acknowledging their grief. Thank you again and again for so eloquently “guiding” many of us through these murky waters of grieving.
We just lost our first baby April 6th. We named him Oliver and I’ve written about it a bit here: heathereigsti.blogspot.com He was the first grandbaby on both sides and we told everyone on Easter- 3 days prior. Sad.
I’m thankful for your post. It brought me to sacred tears- just when I thought I was doing better. It’s a process and I’m realizing this mor every day.
You’ve been a blessing to me and my husband. Thank you.
Once again I’m in tears reading your blog…and then I ask myself what triggers it?
In part, understanding the pain of grief, the truth of,
“And when you come home without a baby, there’s very little evidence that that child ever existed. So when you’re going through the hell of grief, it can feel like you were the only one who lost that baby, and that everyone else’s life has just move on.”
And to think there are some that remember with you (because so few do for me).
And reading about this sobbing sister bringing you a meal is wonderful. Yes, we need more people who are willing to show that kind of emotion and empathy and grief. I can feel that for someone, but I am usually the one to have that lump in my throat, holding it back. Thanks for the encouragement to not only feel broken hearted for someone, but to be willing to let it spill out too.
“what are we holding it together for anyway?” !?!?!?!? Well said.
I am so appreciative of your honesty. I am a new nurse in the Neonatal ICU. Every day I care for families in crisis and I battle between the feeling that I should be strong for them and that I should show them that I love their baby and understand (to a point) what they are going through. I am their nurse and I am there to care for their child, but also to care for them and love on them. This post helped show me that both are possible – that my empathy can provide strength and comfort for them. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.
I have a friend who lost twins at term many years ago now. One of them died in utero, the other lived a few hours. I’ll never forget her describing the junior doctor who came and sat with them as the little girl died, and simply cried with them. I, a brave junior doctor at the time, was appauled as she told me (silly me) until she, with tears in her eyes, recounted how this had been one of the most comforting moments in her horrendous tragedy. Jesus asks us to weep with those who weep. I guess he knows their hearts!
I came over from michelle’s blog everlasting arms. You speak the truth!!
My dear Molly,
After reading this I just want to say: “I love you”. I thank you for your trasparency. Thank you for opening your life to us who read it, and your heart! You might feel more distanced to me, since I don’t have a blog and I haven’t kept in touch. But you are close to me, always. Thanks for the wisdom of your words.
Hi Molly,
I am a new follower, but have read some of your posts when Stacey from He Will Carry Me links to them. I just wanted to say thank you so much for writing this. We lost our little girl almost 6 months ago. She was born at 34 weeks, but was about the size of a 27-weeker, and only lived for three days in the NICU. Anyway, some of the most comforting conversations that I’ve had with friends and family over the past 6 months have been hen those people express their genuine sadness and grief, or when they cry with me/us. One of my fiance’s friends from highschool, who I’ve never met, sent him a message on facebook to tell him that she and her friend stopped by Olivia’s grave and left her some tulips. At this point, I’m just rambling… i guess i just want to say how right you are, and how much I appreciate your words and your heart.
Thank you for posting this. I shared it with my Facebook friends. I lost my precious Molly Grace 6 1/2 months ago. Her heart stopped beating at 9 months. A friend told me the other day she cried herself to sleep one night thinking about Molly. I shared that comment with my husband and he started to sob. It is healing to know that people still cry over her.
Thank you! A friend’s daughter (who was 2 1/2) passed away just over two months ago, and I have felt bad when I found myself sharing with her about the times I still cry about missing her baby…thought it seemed selfish, talking about my grief rather than hers. So thank you for letting me know that this is a good thing, this sharing of my broken hearted love for my friend.
so good to come back and read comments. for a moment, i found myself getting *angry* that so many people have to deal with death. i hate death. and, yet i know this isn’t a *new* reality.
i’m so grateful for the many, many times you’ve let me share my tears over felicity’s death with you. i’ve told you many times how it made me feel crazy or almost obsessive or wrong or selfish to be crying for *your* baby and *your* loss. i wondered if something was wrong with me that i wanted to know your birth story, wanted to hear you tell me what your time with her was like. part of the problem is that words fall short. i felt so strange saying, “i’m ‘glad’ you told me this.” *glad*? or, there were times when i would want nothing more than to cry through the details of felicity’s life and death. i just wanted to hear about her, which would make me cry…
okay…now I’m rambling…
thanks again, molly, for writing this. it’s helpful. love you.
oh, and i hope you had a good mother’s day, friend.
Thank you for sharing your heart.
Dearest Molly,
This being the 54th comment, I’m not sure you’d read it, but I’d just like to say your post has touched me so much because my mom went through her 3-day-old son dying. I was only two then (and the eldest child) so until I started reading your posts about Felicity, the extent of her loss never struck me. I don’t know how she feels about him now because we never mention him, but this taught me that the best thing to do might not be to just “forget him” (like I’ve been doing all my 17 years) but to intentionally remember this brother I never knew with my mum.
I’m going to try… though I don’t know how!
love, Hannah (all the way from Singapore!)
Molly, I never lost a baby or suffered the pain of losing a loved one like you have. But, I have suffered the pain of losing a reputation, losing friends and almost losing my family when my husband, who was a pastor, was unfaithful to me. We lost everything – friends, reputation, job, respect. It was the most gut-wrenching time of my life. And, even tho it wasn’t the pain of death, it was still a deep, horrible grief. And, the people that ministered the most to me were the ones who cried with me,held me when I shook with sobs,and let me talk and talk. Their brokenhearted love was what helped my healing process and taught me how to love, brokenheartedly, with others since that awful time in my life. Thank you for bravely sharing your grief with us and helping guide us to minister better to others.
This is so true and so helpful! Thanks for putting these thoughts into words.
Molly, Thank you for this.
Molly,
Thank you so much for this post. A close friend of mine lost her 2 month old daughter to SIDS yesterday. I’ve been a frequent reader of your blog, but never suspected I would need to put this practical advice to personal use. Unfortunately, I do, and I so appreciate your willingness to lay it bear for us to learn from. This certainly makes me long for the coming of our Lord.
Thank you, so much for sharing, and for allowing us to cry. My husband and I have lost two babies in the last year, and your courage I pray will glorify God. You’re right when you say that few know how to comfort you when you’ve lost a child, but your advice is Biblical: “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.”-Romans 12:15. It is tempting for both those who have lost and those who know them to keep silent and go on as if nothing happened, but I know for me, that was the worst thing, because my grief was and is real and so were my children. They are in the presence of Jesus Christ as I write this, and someday they will greet their mom and dad and take us by the hand to see Jesus, to the very throne room of God! I will continue to pray for you and your family, and may we all pray for each other in our grief. And most of all may we have the strength to share our sorrows and to “weep with them that weep.” that God may be glorified even in the most terrifying sorrows! God bless you!
Molly –
I bookmarked this post when I first read it, because it was such an interesting insight that somehow had never occurred to me before. In the past, I have always struggled to stay the “strong one” when comforting grieving friends, but this gave me such a valuable new perspective. Unfortunately I had the opportunity to put it to use just days after reading the post, when my dear friend lost her young brother suddenly. The weeks since have been so difficult, but what a different experience it has been to not hold back my own tears. I think about your “brokenhearted love” so often, now. Thank you so much for sharing.
As a “surviving” Mom, your words rang so true in my heart. Thank you for allowing yourself to be so transparent and for sharing your heart. My son was 33 years old when he died seven years ago, but he was still my child. He was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age one and so we struggled to keep him alive and safe his entire life. The battle was long and I grieved everyday knowing the likelyhood was that I would outlive him. Tears are God’s way of allowing us to share our hurt when words do not suffice. The blessing is that He holds us close while we shed those tears. May God bless you and your family in the days ahead. You are already so blessed.
What a precious reminder. I need to heed these words. Amazing writing, profound thought. I am blessed by you. Thank you.
I am rejoicing today for the birth of your twins! (On my youngest sons birthday :) extra precious to me!)
Barb H, Castle Rock, CO
Molly, I just stumbled across your blog and this post and now I’m sitting here with tears streaming down my face. About three years ago I was in the same position as the stranger who brought you a meal- standing at the door of a new family in our church who had just delivered a stillborn baby a few days earlier, casserole in hands, fighting back tears. I’d met them just once before, when she was in her last month of pregnancy and eagerly anticipating the birth.
She opened the door and I couldn’t fight the tears any longer. . . I just fell apart and we hugged and cried together for a very long time. She told me in detail about the days leading up the birth and the depths of grief that had followed.
I never saw her again (they moved out of state shortly after) but I think about her all the time. I’ve often felt badly about how that meeting went down . . . my emotions got the best of me and I figured that wasn’t what she needed. But maybe it was after all. Thanks for sharing, and congratulations on your beautiful new twins.
THank you, so MUCH!!! You’ve know idea how much this post has helped me. A year later I am still refering to this blog and the term “brokenhearted love” which helped me name what I feel for my mama friends who have lost, and helped me seperate my grief for them from their grief. Feel free to check out my blog post today where I linked to this post so others may know about brokenhearted love. http://shineliketheson-mymotherhoodtrail.blogspot.com/2010/10/1-year-ago-today-october-15-babyloss.html
I just discovered this beautiful post! It is so true! When I lost my baby, 41 years ago, I felt alone in my suffering except for the beautiful nurses who showed such wonderful compassion. One came into my room and gave me a relaxing back rub I have come to believe was accompanied with heartfelt prayer. I was 19 and did most of my grieving inside myself. A couple of years later, I came to know the One who grieves with us like none other and gives us the ability to have that “brokenheartedness” toward others. The shortest verst in the Bible says that “Jesus wept.” He wept when his friend Lazarus died. Not because Lazarus died because Jesus raised him from the dead, but as a result of the pain the friends and family were experiencing. Tomorrow I will attend a celebration of life for the 22 year old grandson of a dear friend and I feel the pain as it he were my own. Your post is beautiful.
[...] You should check out Molly’s post “Brokenhearted Love: Give It, Live It.” [...]
[...] don’t shy away from this scary and awful thing, but invite me to share. Because they are brokenhearted with me. Because what should have been a nightmare is a beautiful love story of community and grace and [...]