We at RLN are compulsive readers, especially books on reproductive loss and grief. A large part of this is because we want to refer to rich, Bible-based books that will give you tools to help comfort others during seasons of grief. This week, I found a gem of a book I just had to share.
If you are looking for a book offering encouragement for a friend or client who has experienced a miscarriage, Abbey Wedgeworth’s book Held is a beautiful choice. Having experienced the sorrow of miscarriage, Wedgeworth offers small glimpses into her own story and those of others, encouraging sufferers that they are not alone. However, the most helpful aspect of the book is how Wedgeworth gently guides the sufferer to the endless grace of God through the gospel message.
Wedgeworth uses Psalm 139 to produce a Word-saturated, accessible, and thoughtful gift. Held offers a brief reflection for the day, followed by additional passages to read, a reflection prompt, and an opportunity to respond through journaling. The book’s simple, short, and insightful structure makes it a hopeful and relevant gift or resource for giving to a hurting friend. If you’re looking for an opportunity to learn more about Wedgeworth, she discusses her book on The Good Book Company podcast here.
Recently, I met with a friend who shared the loss of her granddaughter, who died at 20 weeks in utero. As we sat in our local sandwich shop, we cried together over the loss of the baby, the grief she shared with her daughter and son-in-law, and the dreams she and her husband had of being grandparents. The sun shining through the restaurant windows on that clear winter afternoon seemed to taunt us as it cast happy rays on the faces of people enjoying their day. For a time, we sat in the shadows.
I am often amazed that I work in this grief-care space, teaching others how to help people suffering after a reproductive loss. I frequently introduce myself as one who has “said all the wrong things” to hurting people. Embarrassed yet hoping to offer encouragement, I blurted untrue and unhelpful sentiments. As I have wrestled with my weakness about saying the wrong thing in situations, two specific truths come to mind that can help our grieving friends with the hope the Lord has offered through his Word.
First, we are reminded that the Lord draws near to those who are hurting. He is already there at the restaurant, coffee shop, or family gathering. The ministry of comfort involves the Holy Spirit (Acts 9:31), God, the Father (2 Cor 1:3,4), and Christ, the Son (2 Cor 1:5; Phil 2:1), who is abundantly qualified to comfort man. Dane Ortlund writes, “Our pain never outstrips what he himself shares in. We are never alone. That sorrow that feels so isolating, so unique, was endured by him in the past and is now shouldered by him in the present.” We can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that God is already there, near to those in need. His presence has already begun the work at hand.
Second, God has called us to care for His sheep, which means that when they suffer loss, we need to be there for them by making ourselves available in humility and gentleness (Eph. 4:2). In the past, perhaps you have not been a student of your words or deeds in this area. But God is kind to reveal this to us when we ask Him to be the the person who offers the comfort and wisdom with which Christ comforts us. We can console each other through a gentle hand on the shoulder, a silent embrace, or shared tears. Other times, meaningful words are shared. In every case, it means taking our eyes off ourselves and looking outward to help others. It means, in the words of Benjamin Warfield, “Not that we should live one life, but a thousand lives—binding ourselves to a thousand souls by the filaments of so loving a sympathy that their lives become ours.”
Hearing our friend’s stories are a precious gift. Our conversation continually can point to Jesus as the Wonderful Counselor who brings the ultimate comfort to the suffering soul. With that knowledge, we can rest assured.
My colleague, Tanya, and I travel quite a bit for work as we speak at seminars, attend conferences, and provide training. On any given flight, we are asked where and what we do, and I can tell you, it’s not always sexy for others to learn that we are reproductive grief and loss educators. Some people will tell us their precious and sacred stories, and others will not look us in the eye for the rest of the journey. On one such flight, Tanya sat beside a beautiful young woman who asked what the purpose of our trip was. Tanya quietly mentioned our travel plans, then sat back to see where the conversation would lead. Soon, the woman looked up at the air vent, hoping to find the meaning of these words there. She hesitatingly asked, “Miscarriage?” Tanya breathed out, “Yes.” After a long pause, the woman asked, “Abortion?” Again, Tanya answered, “Yes.” Finally, the woman looked up, searching for words in the sky beyond the plane, and asked, “Hysterectomy?”
Yes.
The woman went on to share with Tanya how she had to have a complete hysterectomy at a young age and was now grieving the children she would never bear.
Reproductive loss is any experience of grief in a person’s life related to their reproductive health, decisions, fertility, the outcomes of a pregnancy, or the creation or care of their family[1]. It can involve the pain of miscarriage, the agony of stillbirth, perinatal and infant loss, and the complex emotions tied to infertility, assisted reproduction, and abortion. It also extends to adoption, children born with congenital disabilities, and any loss affecting a person’s reproductive well-being.
Reproductive loss is a widespread and often unspoken part of life. Miscarriage alone accounts for a quarter of all pregnancies, resulting in about two million losses yearly in the United States. Yet, it differs from other forms of grief in that parents who have experienced reproductive loss may have limited tangible memories of their baby. Their loss is silent, and they often grieve without the support or recognition they need to heal. Additionally, when individuals form deep connections with their unborn or newborn children and experience any loss, grief inevitably follows.
Knowing that many people struggle with reproductive loss is half the battle of becoming a source of understanding and empathy for them. Because it is a private (or scary) topic, we seldom delve into these particular and painfully common tragedies. Thus, distressed women and men are not receiving the biblical guidance they desperately need. Instead, struggling with their pain in isolation, they often seek comfort and answers online, where much of the content they stumble upon focuses on the emotional dimensions of losing a child rather than applying the truths of God’s Word to their grief. While they find empathy in the articles they read, the profound hope embedded in the gospel of Jesus Christ is missing.
With just a little bit of information on this topic, we can listen to these stories with empathy and offer the hope and comfort afforded us in Christ Jesus.
Tricia Lewis, Co-Founder Reproductive Loss Network
[1] Flores and Lewis, 2023; Earle et al., 2008; Price, 2008; Roth, 2018
Last week a friend stopped by for a visit, saw my plants, and offered some advice. The need was evident. One of my succulents sits with its overgrown stalk resting on the kitchen window, like a child smooshing its face into the glass. Across the counter sits a different plant, droopy and over-watered, looking as if trying to reach something to hold on to, only to give up. She told me the size of the pots is the problem, affecting their healthy growth. One has too much room, and the other is cramped. I had no idea!
Doing research, I found on SimplifyPlants’ website that “different species of plants have different care requirements, and each of them acts differently in a particular situation.” For example, when the pot’s size is too small, the nutrients present in the soil will be absorbed quickly by the plant, and the roots may become root-bound. On the other hand, if you put a plant in a pot too big, the plant will not be able to absorb appropriate nutrients. In addition, the soil may hold too much water, leading to root rot and other pest problems in the plants. So, I learned that I have to be intentional in my pot selection for each plant, giving it the appropriate soil, water, and fertilizer it requires.
Thinking about plants reminds me of how God made us uniquely in his image, planting us strategically for growth, pruning, and harvesting (Jeremiah 17:7-8). God knows when we need a smaller space for our roots to grow deep, and he knows when we are ready for a larger area of expansion. He also gives us “fertilizer” through his Word (2 Timothy 3:16-17) and his church, where we encourage and support one another (1 Thessalonians 5:11).
Unfortunately, we often want to control where we are planted, our speed of growth, and the fruit we bring. Other times, we may not want to grow but remain where we are, tired and weary from the process. It’s often in grief that we feel the struggle the most. When we endure suffering, we may feel we’ve been ripped from our pot and question if we’ll ever grow again. We are challenged in our faith to trust the master gardener (John 15:1-27), who we are to abide in, through all seasons of life. He is the one who causes us to grow and prunes us when needed. He gives us Jesus, our living water and nourishment, promising through him we won’t hunger or thirst again (John 4:10, 6:35)
Let’s encourage one another not to struggle out of our pots. As it is for us and those we help, God knows where we belong, even when it feels foreign, dull, or barren. Let’s remind ourselves and them to soak in the living water of Jesus and allow him to fertilize our soil. Be intentional in the community around you, supporting, encouraging, and tending to one another. And with patience and perseverance, we look forward to the Kingdom of God…
…yet when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and forms large branches; so that THE BIRDS OF THE AIR can NEST UNDER ITS SHADE. – Mark 4:32
Tanya Flores, Reproductive Loss Network
This submission is from a dear friend who expresses the grief of her reproductive loss journey through poetry.
It lingers in the shadows.
It remains just under the surface.
Present on every major occasion,
holiday and transition.
If we are not careful
we can miss it all together.
Like a transformer it shape shifts, heaviness, frustration,
jealousy, sadness, anger, irritation….
But when we are still, and we allow our hearts to be known,
Out of the shadows its true form is shown
It’s not a monster at all,
when you turn on the lights
In fact, we see it’s been with us all our life.
Grief.
It is the little and the big ways
this life is not what I thought
The many and few ways
I regret the cards I got
It is the crushed expectations
And dreams of what could be
It is carrying a vision
That only I can see
Hope is a necessity
For a well lived life
But it requires a gap
That cuts like a knife
So, a suggestion if I may
To move us right along
Grief will linger still
But that doesn’t make it wrong
Grief simply exposes
what we know is true
We weren’t made for this world
(There is nothing wrong with you)
So we learn from its presence
We invite it to the table
We remember that were human
And accept that we are not able
Not able to control
this world that we live in
The brokenness around us
Or the story were given.
But there is one who is greater
And He is a the helm
Aware of every twist and turn
In the seen and unseen realm
The picture is so much bigger
Than the naked eye can bare
As the God of the universe
Meets us with tender loving care
Embracing our humanity
Both the highs and the lows
Is kinship with Jesus
At depths only He knows
For, why would a need a comforter,
a counselor and friend
if the American dream
was the goal at the end?
But a greater invitation
Has been issued in our name
A truly abundant life
Not void of grief and pain
It is in the midst the shadows
We discover that we’re not alone
Capture a greater vision
And remember—this is not our home.
At the beginning of April, I received an email from a jewelry retailer that surprised me. The subject line immediately caught my eyes: “Rather not receive Mother’s Day emails?” I opened it to read the full text, “we understand that this time of year isn’t easy for all. If you’d rather not receive Mother’s Day emails, just let us know.” Below the paragraph was a large button labeled “OPT OUT OF MOTHER’S DAY EMAILS.”
Ten days later, the popular online graphic design portal, Canva, sent out their email, “Want to opt-out of Mother’s Day emails?” Their content included a button to “Change my preferences” alongside the message “Mother’s Day is coming up and we know it can be a difficult day for some. That’s why we’re giving you the option to opt-out of Mother’s Day emails from us.”
If the secular world recognizes and offers relief for those hurting during the Mother’s Day season, shouldn’t the church respond as well? Is Mother’s Day even biblical? Or are the women who hurt expected to gird up strength and endure a socially constructed celebration?
I understand these questions can stir up emotion, especially for church leaders. Years ago, I asked a pastor to consider canceling the church’s annual May “Mother/Daughter Tea” to have a church-wide picnic instead. Or at least rebranding the event name to “Women’s Day Tea.” The reason being is Mother’s Day can be one of the hardest days of the year, and harder still to celebrate it in church. The church is to be a place focused on glorifying God (not ourselves), being devoted to the teaching of biblical doctrine, fellowship, observing the Lord’s supper, and prayer (Acts 2:42). And sometimes its events don’t feel glorifying.
So, should hurting people endure the holiday? The statistics demonstrate the vast numbers of reproductive loss. Annually, 1 in 175 pregnancies end in stillbirth, 25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, 1 out of 8 couples experience infertility, and 1 out of 4 women will have chosen abortion. Many more women and men are grieving the loss of their female family members, daughters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and other loved ones. We also need to recognize the grief of adoption placements, prenatal diagnoses, and broken dreams of family and relationships. As I type this, I wonder if Mother’s Day feels more like a day of survival for most.
The Bible doesn’t ask us to set aside special days for mothers and fathers or anyone else. But it doesn’t condemn it either. Instead, Romans 14:5-8 lays out how every day for a believer should be observed in honor of and thankfulness to the Lord. And through our hope and salvation in Christ, we look forward to the day where “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4). We can take refuge in a God who comforts us and saves us from the broken world and broken bodies.
So, should we opt out of Mother’s Day? What about Father’s Day? Or, any other day that brings anniversary grief? Let’s remind ourselves that the Lord has appointed times for weeping, laughing, mourning, and dancing (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4). And He also promises us a living hope and unfading inheritance through Christ (1 Peter 1:3-4). As believers, we should not mourn like those who have no future, but instead, keep our heads lifted to Christ (1 Thessalonians 4:13).
If you’re hurting this season, we pray for you. Whatever you choose to do to protect your heart this Mother’s Day, please don’t opt-out of Jesus; He is there. And for those who can comfort others, please reach out to the hurting and remember Christ “comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:4).
by Tanya Flores, Reproductive Loss Network
