When Grief Makes You Go Quiet
December has a way of making grief louder. Or maybe it just makes everything else louder, and your grief feels even more out of place than usual. Everyone seems to be moving on with their lives. They’re hanging stockings, making plans, and doing their best to live something that looks “merry,” while you’re still sitting in the same ache.
I remember the silence that lived inside me after losing my daughter. I didn’t know how to answer simple questions anymore. Someone would text, “How are you today?” and I’d stare at the words because I didn’t know where to begin. Nothing had changed. My baby was still gone. My heart still ached. Thoughts of her and what my life “should” have looked like filled my days. Even when I wanted to be honest with my well-meaning loved ones, the words felt stuck in my throat and never made their way to my phone.
I lost my baby in August, and I remember feeling, when December arrived, that I was supposed to be “better” by then. After all, it had been four months. Maybe you feel that pressure too—the pressure to hold yourself together, to be festive, to find some version of joy because the season seems to demand it. But grief doesn’t care what month it is. It doesn’t adjust itself around the holidays or anyone’s expectations. It takes time to walk through, and those early days are just hard. Sometimes it makes you go quiet. Not because you don’t care or because you’re pushing people away, but because the ache is too deep to explain.
As I think about grief and the quiet, and the long-lasting broken heart, here is the truth I keep coming back to: God doesn’t need your words in order to draw near. Scripture tells us that “the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). Even in silence, you are held. Even in the quiet, you are seen. Even when you cannot find your voice, God hears you fully and perfectly. The world may expect brightness and energy this time of year, but Jesus doesn’t.
I also know how complicated it feels when people check in. You want to be honest, but the weight of your grief makes it hard to say much at all. If you find yourself frozen, here are a few simple ways to respond when you want to acknowledge their care without opening every painful corner of your heart: “Thank you for checking in. Today is heavy. I don’t have many words, but it means a lot that you reached out.” Or, “Thank you for seeing me. I’m taking things moment by moment.” It doesn’t have to be perfect or profound. You don’t owe anyone a full explanation of where you are. You’re simply letting someone love you in the small ways you can manage, and that is enough.
God is not disappointed in your quiet places. He is not frustrated with your slow replies or sitting in the tension of wanting connection while feeling too tired to reach for it. He doesn’t need emotional clarity to stay close. He is with you in the text you can’t answer. He is with you in the silence that feels too heavy to break. He is with you in the longing for the life you wish you were living.
Emmanuel, God with us, means you are never abandoned in the quiet. If this December feels too loud, too bright, too heavy, or too lonely, you are allowed to be exactly where you are. And even there, you are not alone.
Because He lives, I hope,
Jennie
- Jennie
Hope Mom to Paige Marie
Jennie is the Executive Director for Hope Mommies. She and her husband Brian live in Oregon and have four children together— Trenton, Paige who has been in Heaven with Jesus since 2010, Mason, and Cora. If you were to knock on her front door today, you’d find her in something comfortable drinking a hot cup of tea, while trying to figure out how to balance all the things that make up a life. She enjoys spending time in God’s word, fresh flowers, board games with her kids, cooking, and evening walks in her neighborhood. She adores being a new creation in Christ and prays she reflects Him well on this earth.
Hillie Moot
December 3, 2025 (12:57 pm)
I’ve just lost my sister whom I’ve just found through DNA. I brought her to NZ from Holland six months later she’s gone. I cannot get over her. Life is becoming too hard en ven though I know I have an incredible husband and children
It is so so hard
Constance Ray
December 4, 2025 (1:46 pm)
We are so deeply sorry for the heartbreaking loss of your sister. To have found her, brought her close, and then lose her so quickly is a grief with so many layers. It makes sense that life feels heavy right now, even with people around you who care. Deep loss can shake the heart in ways words can’t fully express.
While Hope Mommies specifically serves women who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, please know that your grief matters just as much. Losing a sibling leaves an ache that is real and significant, and God sees every bit of the pain you are carrying. You are not weak for struggling — you are grieving someone precious.
We pray that the Lord meets you gently in this season, bringing comfort where the ache feels unbearable and hope where the sorrow feels too deep. May you find space to mourn, people to hold your story with tenderness, and rest in the One who promises to be near to the brokenhearted.
With love,
The Hope Mommies Team
Because He lives, we hope.
Karen
December 3, 2025 (6:55 pm)
I lost my first born son in August this year. My youngest son and I was with him right to his very last brey. It’s been four months today. The pain inside of me is unbelievable. Dealing with this I’m not. On the outside people think I’m handling it and wearing it well. But on the inside the chaos and grief is unbearable.
Constance Ray
December 4, 2025 (1:43 pm)
We are so deeply sorry for the heartbreaking loss of your precious firstborn son. Four months is still so close to the shock and ache of goodbye — especially when you held his hand through his final breath. No mother should have to witness that, and the pain you’re carrying is real, heavy, and holy.
It makes sense that your grief feels chaotic beneath the surface. So often we learn how to function on the outside while our hearts are still shattered on the inside. You are not alone in feeling that tension, and you are not “failing” for struggling — you are grieving a beloved child. Love that deep always leaves a deep ache.
With compassion,
The Hope Mommies Team
Because He lives, we hope.
Tracie Benefield
December 3, 2025 (10:29 pm)
My husband always tells me to just stop crying its okay. But like i tell him it will never be okay again
Constance Ray
December 4, 2025 (1:34 pm)
Tracie-
Thank you for sharing a piece of your heart with us. We are so deeply sorry for your loss and the pain you are carrying. If your loss was through miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, please know that we would be honored to walk alongside you and support you within this community.
We also want to acknowledge that grief, in any form, is real and heavy, and your pain matters. We pray that in the midst of sorrow, you feel the nearness of Christ — the One who sees, who holds, and who promises to make all things new.
With love and hope,
The Hope Mommies Team
Because He lives, we hope.
Greta SanNicolas
December 4, 2025 (5:18 am)
This is so comforting to me. Thank you 🙏♥️
Colleen Shank
December 4, 2025 (6:45 am)
Jennie…thank you. I had been caregiving for my elderly Dad for years and on 11/22/25 he finished his race, well done faithful one. Thank you for putting some beautiful language to answer ‘how are you’!
Constance Ray
December 4, 2025 (1:37 pm)
Thank you for sharing your heart with us, and we are so sorry for the deep loss of your father. Caring for someone you love is sacred and costly work, and what a gift that he finished his race and is now with Jesus — faithful and home. Even though our ministry specifically serves moms who have experienced pregnancy or infant loss, we recognize that grief in any form is tender, holy ground, and your pain is real and seen.
We’re grateful that Jennie’s words offered you language and comfort in this season. We pray that the Lord continues to meet you gently as you walk through the days ahead — with His peace, His presence, and the hope of the resurrection.
With love and compassion,
The Hope Mommies Team
Because He lives, we hope.
Linda Taylor
December 4, 2025 (8:47 am)
Thank you
Carol
December 15, 2025 (8:30 pm)
Thank you. I had 2 sons and my youngest died from brain cancer. I still think of him almost every day.
He was a great son. He helped me every day.
He had over 200 people at his funeral. I don’t see my oldest son much or talk on the phone. He lives 90 miles away. Sad for me. I’m alone & cry alot.
Carol N.