I Wish You Knew: Words Won’t Erase the Pain
Often in our grief, those closest to us do not know how to comfort and encourage us. Sometimes they stay away or don’t say anything at all because they are afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. In this series, we hope to better equip those around us to come alongside a grieving mother—to enter their hurt and offer hope and encouragement, or simply grieve with them.
“He was just too beautiful for this earth.”
What? Too beautiful for this earth? What does this even mean? Too beautiful? So God decided to take my only son? I know plenty of beautiful people who are living and thriving on this earth. What? Is she serious?
I sat in disbelief, eyes glazed over, trying to process the words that were just spoken to me. I had just buried my son, Chance Michael, who was stillborn at 20 weeks gestation. I formed a half-smile as my brain tried to form a response, but I had no words to give back. Just a tilted head and a fake smile that communicated, “If you say so.”
Yet, in my moment of disbelief I realized this person was just giving me something because she didn’t know what to say. In the name of encouragement, she was offering an explanation; one that she most likely hoped would bring hope to my soul, peace to my heart, and a smile to my face. Her heart was in the right place. She offered up words. She wanted to help erase a bit of my pain.
Dear sisters and friends of those surrounding grieving hearts, words won’t erase the pain.
When one is knee-deep in grief it is common for those coming alongside the hurting soul to offer encouragement, biblical explanations, and what one assumes to be “hope.” Those who watch a hurting heart want so badly to take away even an ounce of sorrow, so they open their lips and offer up words.
“He’s in a better place.”
“God’s plan is always best.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“At least you have your living children.”
“You can always try again.”
“I know how you feel.”
“There is a reason for everything.”
“Be strong. God is in control.”
“This was probably God’s way of protecting your family from having a child with severe challenges.”
Following a loss, it is not uncommon for a Hope Mom to hear phrases such as these. People desperately want to speak words that will erase pain, but the reality is, words cannot fix what has broken.
Words won’t erase the pain.
Several layers of grief emerge when one experiences miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, stillbirth, or infant loss.
We grieve the loss of our child.
We grieve the future and “what could have been.”
We grieve an empty womb and empty arms.
May I gently offer a few suggestions to those who long to offer words of hope and safety to another soul buried in grief?
While several of the phrases above are true and believed by those who have placed their faith in the Lord, they convey a message that faith itself should cancel out hurt and deep grief, as if believing these statements (“He’s in a better place,” or “God’s plan is always best,” or “God is in control.”) somehow make our losses less painful. Faith in God, while it keeps one from being swallowed by despair, does not necessarily help one feel less pain.
Instead, what is helpful to one who is in the wake of devastating loss, is offering words that convey a message of agreement and acknowledgement. It warms the heart of the hurting to have someone stand with them and agree that the pain is overwhelming and the situation not fair. It further warms the heart of the hurting to have someone acknowledge of the reality and magnitude of the loss.
May I offer a few alternatives to the phrases above?
The following phrases offer hope to the griever, and exemplify the message of Galatians 6:2 which encourages believers to “bear one another’s burdens” and by doing so “fulfill the law of Christ.” The words below are like a life-raft of sorts, allowing a griever to be where they are, feel what they feel, with no expectation to move on or “get over” their loss, and convey the message of safety in grief.
“I am so sorry for your loss.”
“This is so hard.”
“I cannot imagine how you feel, but I am boldly lifting you up in prayer.”
“Day or night, I am here for you.”
“I’m thinking of you today. I love you.”
“Your child will never be forgotten.”
“Your emotions, whatever they are, are real and valid.”
“I don’t know what to say, but I love you, and we will walk through this together.”
While these phrases are validating and life-giving to one in grief, one of the most powerful gifts we can give a woman experiencing pregnancy or infant loss is the gift of listening. After I lost my son I desperately wanted someone to sit next to me and listen as I retold the story of my pregnancy, his birth, and his memorial service. Those who purposefully chose to listen, instead of “fix” with their words, will always be remembered, and were vital to my healing process.
“Active listening” is so powerful. When one is actively listening, they are listening with their eyes, mind, heart, and soul, and they do not insert their own experience into the loss of the griever. When one does insert their own experience, the conversation then becomes about them, even if this is not the intention. Listening with one’s whole-self, truly active listening, gives the gift of validation to the receiver.
When loss occurs, it is common for friends and family to rally around the griever immediately, when the pain is fresh. While I was so thankful for those who instantly showed their love and support, the most meaningful gestures were those words offered weeks after I laid my son in the ground.
You see, grief has no timeline. Words of encouragement offered to me weeks after I buried my son were another life-raft that kept me afloat when I felt like drowning. The words offered weeks and months following my loss validated my grieving soul in multiple ways. These gestures sent the message that my pain had not been forgotten, my child had not been forgotten, and that there is no expected timetable for healing.
May I share an example? My son was born still on the fourth day of April. One of the most powerful gestures I received was a text message on the fourth day of every month for the first year of my loss. For an entire year, on that day, a friend would send a simple message, “I am thinking about Chance today. I can’t believe it has been five months since we said goodbye. He changed my life and I will always remember him. I love you.” What a message of genuine and consistent loving support.
Friends and family, we thank you. Thank you for entering into our hurt with your presence and words that give life and hope and comfort and encouragement. Thank you for your active role in our grief, and we extend grace for the words spoken quickly, in an effort to erase our pain. We know your hearts are pure. Thank you for listening and acknowledging the pain associated with our loss and in doing so, validating that our sorrow runs deep. Thank you for walking this road with us, for offering a safe place to land, and sharing in our burden.
- Brittnie
Hope Mom to Baby A and Chance Michael
Brittnie lives in Sugar Land, Texas and enjoys writing on her blog and other outlets, baking, lingering coffee dates, and soaking in moments with her family. She is a wife to Brandon and a mom to Clara, Camille, and Hope Mom to Baby A (Clara’s twin) and Chance. Psalm 62:1-2 is her go to verse when she needs quick encouragement. She is author of Desert Song, and you can visit with Brittnie at her personal blog, A Joy Renewed, where she shares her faith and family, and encourages her readers to claim joy despite circumstance.
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