After a trimester of bedrest, I lost my baby. The story leading up to this was intense, so I was exhausted in every way. When the doctor explained what happened, I heard his words and understood, but it felt surreal. I remember lying there, my husband sitting beside me, and thinking, “This is happening to us now. We’re going to know what it’s like to lose a child. We are never going to hold him.”

I was thankful not to be alone. My husband and I shared the loss, but we each grieved differently. He wanted to be with friends and talk. He especially wanted to be with me the night it happened. However, I desperately wanted to be alone. Since I had to spend the night in the hospital, I explained how much I needed the time.

My prayer was asking God to search and understand me, because I didn’t know how to express myself. Alone on my bed, I wept silently. At some point I put in earbuds and listened to songs that explained how I felt. They were not typical songs associated child loss, but the words reflected my grief and questions well. Occasionally I whispered, “Where are you?” Because I didn’t understand how my abdomen could have been holding life and then suddenly…nothing.  Sometimes I whispered, “I’m sorry.” Sorry I couldn’t carry the baby. Sorry for so many things beyond my control. 

Weeping, being alone, and asking hard questions that went unanswered— was how I needed to be with God. It helped me begin accepting the loss. It was a major life event that took months to process, but this night was a vital part of moving forward. It was silence, anger, heartbreak, sadness, and trust. It was raw and unfiltered time before my Creator. The way I carry this grief has changed, but it's still part of my story. When I feel it again, I honestly express myself before God however I need to at the time. I trust Him to feel everything with me. This is the most honest way I know how to be with Him in these moments. I do not want to feel the loss alone, so I put all my hope in the God-Human Jesus— who wept when He lost a loved one—and yearn for Him to hold vigil with me in this silent form of communion-prayer.