Grieving Together: Spend Intentional Time With Your Spouse
Walking through the loss of a child is extremely difficult on its own, but the difficulty can be greatly compounded when walking through that grief with another. In this series, we seek to write about the ways we can encourage and support our spouse in grief, and come together before the Lord instead of being driven apart by sorrow.
It had been just over two weeks since our little one went to be with Jesus. I was still carrying his lifeless body inside of my own. My womb was just not ready to let go of the pregnancy, and I desperately wanted the opportunity to deliver our baby naturally instead of having surgery. It was the one thing I could still do for him—or so it felt.
I had been in and out of the doctor’s office every few days, checking my hCG levels and accessing my risk of infection. And every time I received the same answer: my body still had not recognized my loss. It was a wearisome season, being reminded afresh with each new prod and poke of how sin’s curse had robbed me of this precious treasure.
My husband, Jesse, and I had been planning a quick weekend getaway for our fifth anniversary for quite awhile, and the timing of it all felt so overwhelming to me. I had no desire to go anywhere. I was afraid of what would happen if I went into labor while we were away, and my grieving heart just wanted to be tucked away in my own home. But Jesse thought that time away would be good for us, so I reluctantly agreed to keep our plans.
My mind was in a fog as we got on the road. Jesse and I hadn’t really had the chance to connect on anything recently other than coordinating our schedules around all the doctor appointments I had been going to. Our hearts were heavy, and I was certain that our time together would be completely overshadowed by the grief we bore. How could it not be? Death felt all-consuming to me in those early days.
I didn’t have much to say as we drove. Neither of us did. I was worried about the pregnancy passing while we were away and expecting a call from my doctor at any moment with the results of my last blood draw. At the same time, I could feel my insides well up with guilt at the thought of possibly enjoying myself over the weekend. My baby was gone from me. Shouldn’t I just carry on with being miserable?
I could see it in Jesse’s eyes. His concern for me. He had been looking forward to this trip for a long time, and had a list of things he wanted to see and do while we were away, but he also knew how difficult it was for me. Although we loved our baby equally, and both desperately missed him, we grieved so differently. He needed to fill his time with people and places, and I preferred solitude and silence.
I knew if I would have asked him to, he would have canceled our trip without a word. But that would have been the selfish thing for me to do. Jesse had been so intentional about carving out time for me to be alone over the past two weeks—giving me the space to process my sorrow and be alone before the Lord. I wanted to be just as intentional with him. And what he wanted more than anything in that season was time for us to be together.
When we got to our hotel, I waited in the car while Jesse ran into the lobby to get our parking pass and room keys. I waited and I prayed. I asked God to reorient my heart so that I could joyfully and completely offer my companionship to Jesse over the weekend, and I prayed that we would use this time intentionally to pour into one another. And God did exactly that.
This time away became a catalyst for healing in our hearts and in our marriage. We stayed up late sharing the thoughts and emotions that we had each been carrying in the secret places of our souls. We slept in and began our days slowly, because there was nowhere we had to be. We went for longs walks and read side by side in coffee shops. And we laughed.
Oh! How sweet it was to laugh again with my dearest friend.
God used this time away to draw our hearts closer to His as well. I experienced God’s love and compassion through the way that Jesse tenderly cared for me on our trip. I gained a deeper understanding of God’s Word as we read and discussed our devotional readings with each other over coffee in the morning. And I learned to trust the Lord in greater measure as He continually reminded me that even in the chaos and confusion, He is still good.
Dear one, is grief threatening to shake the pillars of your marriage? Find ways to spend intentional time together. Go for a walk. Read a book or a portion of Scripture together. Plan a date, or several. Snuggle up on the couch and share your hearts with one another. Get out of town for a bit to give yourself time and space to process your loss together.
Grief tries to tell you that you are alone. That no one understands the pain you feel. It carries with it the temptation to remain in isolation. If I would have listened to grief’s somber voice and shut myself away at home like I longed to do, I would have sunk further into my sorrow and missed this wonderful opportunity to be with the one person who felt this loss as deeply as I did.
Carving out time together likely won’t always be the easiest path to walk in grief, there may be moments of frustration and misunderstanding along the way. But God is for your marriage, and He will give you strength to move forward together as you continue to keep your eyes fixed on Him.
- Ashlee
Hope Mom to Simeon and Odelle
Ashlee is the Editorial Coordinator for Hope Mommies and author of I AM (Hope Mommies, 2017) and Identity (Hope Mommies, 2018). She and her husband, Jesse, live in Milwaukee with their children—five on earth and two in heaven.
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