On those moments when you can’t get out of bed.

When the pain is so sharp this new life can’t possibly be real.

When you don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

He sees you.

When you are etched with wrinkles, appearing to age overnight.

When you have no strength to parent your other children.

When you have to break the news to your surviving child that their best friend is now in Heaven.

He sees you.

When you are struggling with every breath and haven’t changed clothes in days.

When the thought of getting out of bed seems like it would take a miracle.

When the terrifying nights are so long, you are desperate for rest yet sleep never comes.

He sees you.

When you cry out to God begging for answers, pleading him to take you instead.

When your mind holds you hostage as you wonder why it had to be your child.

When you must pick out their last adorable outfit, clothing them for eternity.

He sees you.

When the chaplain sits by your side and describes to you what your precious child looks like in their casket because you’re too afraid to see.

When the mere thought of living without them makes you panic as you scream in disbelief.

When you’re angry and afraid as you realize you’ve given them their last hug.

He sees you.

When you have to face their bedroom knowing they will never be coming home.

When it’s family portrait time and you can’t possibly do it without them.

When someone asks how many children you have and you are paralyzed with words.

He sees you.

When you attend your first support group meeting and know you don’t belong.

When you see families enjoying each other and you are so overcome with jealousy you secretly despise them.

When you are grasping at straws, reaching for every book ever written, desperately searching for hope and truth of Heaven.

He sees you.

When the darkness comes and you are terrified of the night.

When the sun rises and it hurts knowing time is moving forward.

When you can’t imagine going back to church without them.

He sees you.

When the guilt becomes suffocating as you replay your last conversations begging for a do-over.

When the flashbacks are relentless.

When you lay on their grave just to feel close to them.

He sees you.

When the tears flow like endless streams.

When your words waver between past tense and present.

When you smell their shampoo or sniff their clothes, frantic to inhale their fleeting scent one more time.

He sees you.

When you’re so afraid of forgetting their voice.

When you can’t begin to eat their favorite foods because the guilt consumes you.

When no one acknowledges their birthday.

He sees you.

When the dishes pile up, the laundry overwhelms and bills don’t get paid.

When you question God’s plan.

When you accidentally laugh forgetting for just a second they are gone.

He sees you.

Hang on. One day at a time. You can do this.

He sees you.

I see you.

When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. -Isaiah 43:2

This post originally appeared on the author’s blog

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Daphne Bach Greer

Author of Barely Breathing: Ten Secrets to Surviving Loss of Your Child, Daphne is deeply rooted in faith. She is a wife and mother of five with a daughter in heaven. She is passionate about helping others find the sweeter side of grief, while finding faith, restoring life and igniting hope within. Find her at grievinggumdrops.com.