Earlier this year, your daddy and I had a dream of meeting you. I thought you were the most beautiful little girl—brown hair and the most sparkly, beautiful brown eyes. I saw the picture of our embrace, and my heart wanted to run.

“I don’t want to miss the opportunity to be with her,” I said with streaming tears down my face, weeping and blubbering that single sentence over and over again. My husband held me close and reminded me I would be with her again one day.

There would be no more goodbyes. No more tears. No more pain. Losing an early pregnancy sometimes isn’t seen as a true loss. It gets brushed off, but those who have lost a baby at any stage—know a baby was a baby no matter how small.

It stunk. People said things I couldn’t believe would be spoken to me. And in the fear of subsequent pregnancies, I desperately had to cling to the truth . . . Jesus loves this baby more than I do.

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I didn’t always see the plan. Some days I still don’t see it. I was angry. I struggled with jealousy. Fear of losing again. Disgust at being brushed off. Depressed that society said she didn’t count. Confused why I had to mourn in quiet places. Upset that I was pushed back into normal life when mine was still spinning.

It’s been six years next week. I’ll never forget. I’ve always wondered why it was allowed to happen, even with the hard truth of knowing the Lord has turned something horrible in my life to bless other women for their good. I’ve walked with five women since then, and I will always know them by name.

Because of Jesus, I can love through loss. Because of Jesus, I can come alongside them and hug them, saying I understand—because unfortunately, I really do. Because of Jesus, I can be a safe place for them to cry because they need it.

Because of Jesus, I choose to acknowledge their motherhood in an empty home because the silence is deafening. Because of Jesus, I can comfort the wounds of hurtful words with Christ’s promises and love because sticks and stones never hurt as much as thoughtless ignorance.

Because of Jesus, I share the hope and peace that we will one day no longer have to say goodbye again because Jesus is how I got through it Because of Jesus, I gladly bring a coffee, their favorite treat, or mail a care package because they need joy brought to their despair. Because of Jesus, I tell them it’s okay to not be okay. That grief is a strange thing, and their babies mattered. They still matter. Precious babies whom we love deeply.

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Today, we remember those babies and mommas who never got to live out a life together here, but who have the hope of the happiest homecoming in Heaven. The first hug of Heaven will be a reminder of Jesus’ sacrifice that we no longer have to say goodbye.

Because of Jesus, your friend is praying a special blessing over her fellow momma friends today. We are all remembering and comforting those of us who are members together in a club we never wanted to join. Jesus loves you. I love you. I still see you. I pray for you.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NIV)

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:4, NIV)

Originally published on the author’s blog