Facing the Loss of a Child

Parenting brings with it a unique set of fears, but some fears loom larger than the rest. One of these ominous fears is that of losing a child. While most of the time this horrible thought lurks in the shadows, some families have faced devastating news: their son or daughter is dead.

It feels backwards and unusual, because it is. Death in this world is unnatural to begin with, but we have come to expect a predictable order for death. The elderly die; sick people die; children do not die. Adult children bury their parents; parents do not bury their young children. But when parents lay their young child to rest, their whole world comes crashing down.

No one wants this, no one asks for this, and no one chooses this. But in God’s providence this is my family’s story. In the spring of 2023, we were expecting our fourth child after a couple of miscarriages. We felt so much hope and excitement that the pain of the last couple of years would be healed with this baby’s birth.

Then, late one night at 35 weeks, my wife experienced excruciating pain; she was in some kind of premature labor. We called an ambulance, rushed her to the hospital, and the doctor planned on delivering the baby when we arrived. The problem was, they couldn’t find a heartbeat. Not the first nurse who checked us in, not the doctor, not the second doctor. He was gone. They delivered a stillborn boy in the wee hours of the morning. We named him Zion, and we buried him a week later.

Nothing prepares you to hear the doctor say, “We can’t find a heartbeat; I’m so sorry.” Nothing prepares you to arrange a funeral for your child. Nothing prepares you to take down the crib instead of laying him or her in it.

What is a father to do in times like these? While no two people will respond the same way, and while there is far more to say about this tender topic,¹ if you have lost a child, here are three beacons of light that I found comforting and helpful in the immediate aftermath of losing my son. These beacons can give you some light in the early days of grieving the loss of a child.

1. Your child is with the Lord.

Knowing where your child is doesn’t remove the pain, but it does provide immense comfort. This was one of the first questions I wrestled with. I wanted to be certain of what the Bible taught so that what I hoped was true wasn’t mere sentimentality, but biblically-grounded truth.

The Bible does not have a direct statement that says, ‘Children who die go to Heaven.’ However, the Bible’s inferences teach that children who die are instantly with the Lord. John MacArthur’s book, ‘Safe in the Arms of God’, makes this case quite convincingly (as does this article from The Gospel Coalition and this article by Al Mohler and Daniel Akin).

Your child will be in heaven, and if you have trusted Jesus as your Savior, you will see your child again. If you don’t know Jesus as Savior, perhaps it is through the greatest pain in your life that you will come to experience the greatest joy. Though you are a sinner, deserving of eternal punishment in Hell, Jesus died on the cross and rose again to forgive your sins. You can receive eternal life by trusting in Jesus as your Savior (John 3:16, Romans 10:9). Knowing that you possess eternal life and that your child lives right now is medicine to the hurting soul.

2. You will feel alone, but you aren’t alone.

One of the most disorienting parts of the whole experience was the feeling of total isolation and loneliness. It was like those movie scenes where the character is in a room with other people but everything they see is blurry and the sound is garbled. That’s the way the grief felt like for months.

Though you feel this way, keep holding on to the truth of God’s presence. God is with you. He promised to be with you, to never leave you or forsake you (Heb. 13:5–6). Even if you don’t feel His presence, He is there.

It was also helpful for me to consciously count the ways people supported us. Our church family ran to us in the immediate aftermath of losing Zion. People showed up: they cleaned the house, made meals for weeks, and watched our other children occasionally. Many people told us they were praying for us. We received dozens of cards, and I kept every single one of them. These little notes are tangible reminders that we weren’t and aren’t alone.

3. God is still God.

The greatest difficulty for my wife and I was wrestling through our relationship to God. We had and have so many unanswered questions. I still don’t understand why God permitted him to die, but the Lord doesn’t ask me to understand Him, but to trust Him. My former pastor, Greg Stiekes, powerfully noted, “Understanding God is not a prerequisite for trusting God.”

Your questions may not be answered immediately or even at all. But you don’t have to understand to trust God. God is still who Scripture reveals Him to be. The temptation will be to change my view of God based on my circumstances, rather than correctly interpreting my circumstances through the character of God.

As the doctors took my wife for the emergency delivery, I sat in a waiting room, alone with my thoughts. The reality hadn’t quite sunk in yet, and the emotions had not burst out yet. And yet, a calm sense of resolve washed over me. The Holy Spirit reminded me that God’s goodness had to be my anchor. No matter what the coming months would hold, I knew that I couldn’t surrender the belief that God was good. Believing this didn’t make things less painful or difficult or emotional; it did give me a rock to cling to as the world spun all around me. It didn’t answer my heart-rending questions; but it did give me the right foundation to ask those questions.²

My friend, God is still good. God is still loving. God is still wise. God is still sovereign. I can’t explain how all of these truths fit together, but there is a mystery in faith that acknowledges that God’s majesty is too big for my finite mind to fully grasp.

Instead of dwelling on the things you don’t understand about your situation or about God, cling to one truth about God. Our God is so great that a single truth about him, a single verse from Scripture, or a single promise He extends to you is sufficient to carry you through the storm. Ask God for one anchor to sink deep in your heart and hold fast to through the waves of grief.

Conclusion

Words can’t capture the paradox of how the grief stabs your heart so painfully while at the same time your soul feels so numb. Emotions will be rung out, and you will probably feel like a child trapped in a rip current, with wave upon wave of grief crashing over you.

In days like this, when it takes a Herculean effort just to get through the day, look to Jesus. He is the Author and Finisher of our faith (Heb. 12:1–2), our Champion who has navigated unspeakable suffering and triumphed over it. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and that light shines in the face of Jesus Christ. He feels your weaknesses and knows your griefs. He will sustain you with just enough grace to make it through one day at a time.