Words for Those Who Recently Miscarried

Walking Through Grief Together After Pregnancy Loss

These are a few thoughts for couples who have experienced a miscarriage and are still in those immediate days and weeks afterward.

My wife and I have lost two children, one daughter to a very late-term stillbirth and one son to miscarriage at about fourteen weeks. Both losses were incredibly painful, but in different ways.

Though a person is a person from the moment of conception, the experience of grief often corresponds to how much of that child’s potential has already been realized in the minds and lives of the parents. The more you have seen, anticipated, and experienced of that child, the more there is to mourn when that future is suddenly taken away. In other words, you grieve a stillbirth differently than you grieve a miscarriage, just as you grieve the death of a three-year-old differently than a stillbirth. In every case, a human life has been lost, and that alone is reason enough to weep and cry out to your God. There is no shame in acknowledging that the experience of grief is not identical in every circumstance.

This difference in grieving can be especially pronounced for fathers, particularly in the case of miscarriage. Unlike the mother, he did not have the same physical relationship with the child. The baby was inside her. Her body was changing day by day to become a home where God was knitting together a human person. For the father, much of the relationship is still anticipatory. It is real, but it is also more abstract.

As a result, his grief may not be as intense as his wife’s, and that can create its own set of temptations. He may feel guilty that he is not grieving as deeply. Or, if he is not careful, he may fail to appreciate just how profound his wife’s loss really is. She is not only mourning the death of her child but also enduring the physical and hormonal realities that accompany miscarriage. A wise husband will not compare griefs or try to measure them against each other. He will simply recognize that his wife is carrying a heavier burden in this moment and seek to bear it with her.

Remember, with each tragedy, you have to decide whether it will pull you together as a couple or pull you apart.

If you are the wife, show your husband compassion. He has lost a son or daughter too, but not in a way that usually allows him to experience the grief as intensely as you do. If you are the husband, show your wife compassion. She is bearing the brunt of this pain because of the physical nearness of the relationship and the way that relationship was already being realized inside herself. Live with one another in understanding.

One thing that can be surprisingly helpful, particularly for the mother, is seeing the child, even in his or her smallest form. It helps make concrete what already exists in your heart. This was real. There was a person inside me. I am right to be sad. I am right to grieve. Many men will instinctively shy away from this because they find it disturbing. Even so, I would encourage you to do it if you are able. It will help you understand what your wife is carrying and remind you that this wasn’t merely the loss of a pregnancy. It was the loss of your child.

I would also encourage you to bury your child. It does not have to be an elaborate funeral. When we buried our son Pascal, only our immediate family was present. I led a brief graveside liturgy. We each threw a little dirt on his casket, buried him, and planted something over his grave. I am very glad we did. He is a real person, and he continues to exist forever.

If you publicly announced the pregnancy, I think it is usually best to publicly announce the loss as well. It spares you the need to relive the tragedy through dozens of awkward conversations. Even if you never announced the pregnancy, you should still tell a few close friends and your pastors. They need to know what you are carrying so they can pray for you, care for you, and watch for signs that your grief is becoming something more dangerous, such as deep depression.

One of the most common questions people ask is, “Why did this happen?” At one level, the answer is simple. Our first parents rebelled against God, and through sin death entered the world. Every miscarriage, every stillbirth, and every funeral traces back to that awful reality. Personally, I have not found it helpful to spend much time trying to uncover God’s secret purposes in a particular loss. Those answers are rarely available to us, and they will not bring your child back. Better to fix your eyes on the hope of the resurrection, when Christ will finally put death itself to death.

There will also be a season of physical healing. That usually means abstaining from sexual intimacy for a time. Take the time your wife needs to recover, but do not unnecessarily prolong that season. The marriage bed is one of God’s good gifts for comforting husband and wife. At the same time, remember that fertility often returns quickly after a miscarriage. While you should not remain trapped in grief, I would also caution against rushing immediately into trying for another baby before you have had time to process what has happened.

For many women, one of the hardest parts of grieving is watching other women carry healthy pregnancies or hold newborn babies. It can be difficult not to resent those who have what you were so eagerly anticipating. That temptation must be faced honestly. You have suffered a genuine loss. You are right to grieve. But you must also fight to rejoice with those who rejoice. If bitterness is left unchecked, one tragedy can spread into a lifetime of resentment.

In my experience, the pain never completely disappears. It changes. The sharpness fades, and the waves of grief come less often, assuming you grieve well. Grieving well means calling things what they are and interpreting them through the lens of Scripture. You lost a child. That child was a real person, made in the image of God, with an eternal soul. Death claimed your child because death entered the world through sin. But Christ has conquered death. There is a resurrection coming when all who belong to Him will be raised and this broken world will finally be made new.

I believe I will see my children again. Why I believe that is a discussion for another time. But that hope has changed the way I think about both miscarriage and stillbirth. As painful as they are, they become another reminder that this world, as good as it can sometimes be, is not our home. They create another bond with heaven and another reason to long for the day when Christ wipes away every tear and death is no more.