I dreaded church that Sunday. Though my church at the time didn’t overdo Mother’s Day like many do, I knew it would still be painful. Only a year prior, I felt the inkling that I was pregnant. Two pink lines confirmed my guess. But the baby we had celebrated then was gone, along with our second baby. All that remained was one sonogram, a few pregnancy tests, and the heaviness of empty arms.
A friend caught me in the aisle of the sanctuary and handed me flowers. “You are a mom,” she said. It was unexpected; it was a balm. She saw my pain and acknowledged my motherhood—a rare gift. In many churches, women sit silently with their chests weighed down by grief rather than a baby in a carrier. They wonder, Am I even allowed to call myself a mom? I’ve never changed diapers or stayed up with a sick kid. I only know how it feels to carry a child in my body. Does that even count?
Miscarriage is a harrowing grief. Mother’s Day can feel isolating, leaving women longing not just for their baby, but for someone—anyone—to affirm their motherhood and in doing so, the value of their child.
Your Baby Bears God’s Image
Our culture praises abortion and undervalues the lives of babies in the womb. This, of course, bleeds into views on miscarriage. I once overheard two women in Target chatting about their friend who had miscarried. One said to the other, “I just don’t get why she’s so sad.” My heart wrenched within me. Heartbreakingly, Christians are also influenced by wrong thinking about unborn babies. We hear it when someone says, “You’ll have another baby.” We notice it in every “At least you can get pregnant,” or “At least it was early.” Each of these comments diminishes the life of our baby and invalidates our grief.
But value is not found in how many days someone lives, but in the God who created them in his image. He formed the inward parts of our babies and knitted them together in our womb (Ps. 139:13). His “eyes saw [their] unformed substance; in [his] book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for [them], when as yet there was none of them.” (v. 16).
Every baby in the womb is not only made by a holy God, but also crafted in his own image, and, therefore, has intrinsic value that can never be stripped away (Gen. 9:6). God planned every day of your baby’s life—no matter how short. Regardless of what others say, God has given inherent value to the child you miss, and he has determined your motherhood by creating life within your body.
You Will Always Be Your Baby’s Mother
Research shows that a baby’s DNA transfers during pregnancy to the blood of the mother. They have discovered that these fetal cells often integrate into the mother’s organs and tissues. God created our bodies to hold evidence of our baby’s life. You may feel forgotten in your sorrow, but God will never forget you or your baby.
God has made you a mom. From the moment life was conceived in your body, this has been true. Nothing can change it. You received the honor of carrying your baby in your womb for all of their days on earth. God chose you for that beautiful work until he took them into his own arms in heaven. Isaiah 40:11 says, “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.” He is carrying you, too.
Carried By God
I know life without your baby hurts deeply. Even now, I can easily recall the vacant nursery, the unused onesie, the sight of a round belly, the passing due dates, and the emptiness of Mother’s Day. You feel like a mother; your arms ache to hold your baby. You’ve received the gift of a child but didn’t get to live out your motherhood further than the womb. Hear me when I say, you are a mother. You carried your baby, and now God will carry you through grief (Isa. 63:9). He will sustain your faith (Ps. 55:22). Just as Jesus wept after being moved by the grief of his friends at Lazarus’ tomb, he is moved by your grief too (John 11:33–35). He weeps with you over the loss of your baby.
Our Good Shepherd carries us in his arms (Isa. 40:11). He gently leads us through the happiness and the sorrow of motherhood, including miscarriage. From the moment two pink lines form on a test to when we hear the ultrasound tech quietly say, “I’m so sorry. There’s no heartbeat,” he goes before us. We are not alone in the Valley of the Shadow of Death (Ps. 23:4). You are not alone; you are carried by God.
Footnotes
Gavin S Dawe, Xiao Wei Tan, and Zhi-Cheng Xiao, “Cell Migration From Baby to Mother,” March 1, 2007, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC2633676/.
