I am blessed to have lived a life that has, so far, not been too terribly plagued with grief. That isn’t to say that I don’t know loss, I do. Overall, though, I am blessed to not know grief on an ultra personal level. Unfortunately for some mamas I know, that is not the case. For some mamas, grief has come into their homes and hung its coat up. It has made itself comfortable with its feet up on their tables, basking in the hurt it brings for them. For those mamas, my heart hurts.

Dear grieving mama, I see you.

Maybe you’re the mama mourning the loss of your marriage. You used to do everything with someone else by your side, and the weight of the world may feel exponentially heavier right now. You may not know exactly how you’re going to handle finances or the kid’s sports schedules.

Maybe you’re the mama dealing with the loss of a close family member or spouse. Your little ones don’t understand why you’re so upset, or maybe they’re older and they’re hurting too. You’re trying to hold their world together as yours is falling apart.

Maybe you’re the mama who is dealing with the earth shattering loss of your baby. Maybe you were pregnant, and now you’re feeling the ache of an empty womb. Maybe you only had one baby, for a few precious days, weeks, months, or years and now the silence is the worst sound in the world. Maybe your other children just lost a sibling, and you have no clue how to keep going for them. No matter the situation, you’re enduring the worst kind of pain in this world. I am so terribly sorry mama, and your loss is felt by every other mama out there.

Dear grieving mama, I hear you.

No matter what you’re going through, grieving mama, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to scream, yell, and even cuss a little. It’s okay to be angry. Just remember that it’s also okay to smile. It’s okay to laugh. It’s okay to enjoy the life that you are still living.

Dear grieving mama, I’m here for you.

You may feel utterly alone. Grieving mama, I hope you know that you aren’t. I may not be living your life, but my arms are always open, along with my ears, my home, and my heart. I’m praying for you, mama. I may not be able to do or say anything to take this grief away, but I am here, and you are loved. Together, grieving mama, we can mourn. Together, we can kindly (or not so kindly if you wish) pick grief up off of your couch, hand him his coat, and remind him that you are in control here.

Shelbie Farmer

I’m a full time bookkeeper, but my favorite “job” is being mama to my sons. I have a love for all things personalized, early morning cuddles, and way too many sweets. Writing is my favorite way to talk about how much I love motherhood and my hope is that the things I write will resonate with other moms.