By Chloe Miller 
Trigger warning: child loss
“The light shines in the darkness and cannot be overcome.” Just days after the loss of my baby boy, Ezra James, this was all I could think about. God kept bringing me back to the truth that even though life can be dark, He’s still faithful.
Trust me, I wish this made the loss of our son bearable, but it didn’t. We were almost in the third trimester when my husband and I went to a routine appointment. At 25 weeks pregnant, I was planning on continuing a healthy pregnancy. I wasn’t planning on going into labor, picking out a funeral home, or leaving the hospital with an empty womb and an empty heart. After receiving the news at the doctor’s office, I didn’t know how to take one more step. Thankfully, God showed up.
The Lord blessed us with people who rallied around us as we navigated the loss of our son. Two of our friends dropped everything to be with us each step of the way. People from our church brought meals to the hospital and our home for weeks afterward. Our families hurried from out of town to be by our side.
God provided a beautiful nursing staff that kindly catered to our needs. Three out of our four nurses were believers and praised and cried with us through every moment. They covered us with prayers and served my husband and me graciously. A funeral home heard our news and empathized with our pain. They didn’t want us to think for a second about the costs of a funeral for our child. At no cost, they cremated Ezra and gave us a lovely urn for his ashes.
The light shined in the darkness; the darkness had not overcome it. I was living proof of that truth. It was such an encouragement to see the Lord show up in our darkest moments. But can I be honest? Even though God showed up for us in our time of need, I was still angry.
I was so conflicted. I knew God was good, that He’s faithful to His Word. I saw God personally show up for me, but I had never been so mad at Him in my entire life. God did what only He could do, but not in the way I wanted Him to do it. Why couldn’t He show up by not letting Ezra die?
I felt so guilty for those feelings. I felt like I was a bad Christian for being mad at God. Like it was unfair of me to be angry at Him for things I didn’t understand. Was God disappointed in me for having such big emotions about the loss of my baby? Maybe it was faithless of me to be so upset and disappointed. Maybe God wasn’t concerned about how I was handling the loss, if He was, wouldn’t He have intervened and stopped it from happening in the first place?
That’s how life was for a while. I kept God at arm’s length while grieving the loss of my baby. Then one day at church, I just broke down. I told God I was angry at Him, but I didn’t want to be. In that moment, God impressed on my heart that He loved me and wanted to help heal my broken heart.
Not everything went back to normal after that, but it was somewhere to start. Step by step, no matter how small those steps were, I made the decision to let God help me minimize the distance I had put between us. I slowly got back into worshipping, reading my Bible, and praying. With every step I took, God met me where I was and continued to heal my heart.
Friend, don’t feel guilty for how you process the loss of your baby. Maybe you’re mad at God, but I can promise you, God’s not mad at you. He’s big enough to handle your feelings, whether that’s anger, fear, disappointment, or even the grip of depression. God’s not surprised, and He’s not scared of your feelings. He’s the one who made you and all the feelings you’re experiencing.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that for everything there is a season. In this season, create space to feel so you can heal. But if I could encourage you, don’t stop there. Invite God into what you’re feeling, allow Him to meet you where you’re at. When you do, He’ll not only validate your feelings, but He’ll also help you take steps to heal.
Dear God, I thank You that as I experience the weight of my feelings, You can help me feel them in a way that will help me heal. Help me come to You and take one step at a time.
by Breanna Thompson 
by Megan Swanek 
