Letter to the Grieving Mom Years After Her Baby Died

May 10

Marisa Baese

Dear grieving mom,

Mother’s Day is filled with love and laughter, flowers and home-made gifts. All too often, however, this special day is also heavy with grief and heartache, when those who make us mothers are no longer by our side. I look back at my first Mothers’ Day in 2017, as I was officially welcomed into motherhood just a week prior. A picture of proof that shows that first celebration of “all things mother,” holding a healthy newborn in my arms with my own mother standing behind me. Little did I know how completely different the very next year would be.

Mother’s Day 2018 was filled with loss, pain, and a deep sadness for me. Friday, May 11th was the 20-week ultrasound for our surprisingly soon second babe, where the shock of learning a likely bleak outcome still stings today. Just 48 hours after hearing of an incomplete heart and chromosomal abnormality, I felt like a fraud on the day that celebrates being a mother. How could I enjoy this title after feeling like I had just lost the very thing that turns you into a mom?

Cue the all-too-familiar feelings of both/and. I struggled, torn between enjoying a healthy one year old in my arms while knowing the baby in my belly may not make it into my arms. An empty, forced smile and aching heart, I look back at pictures of myself, a ghost of a reflection staring at me.

Dear grieving mom,

I am so sorry for your hurting. Even though our pains may be different, our feet are on a similar path. But take heart, for our titles of being a mother are not defined by the number of diapers changed, bottles fed, baths poured, outfits washed, or boo-boos kissed. Being a mother means loving your child, and that action does not disappear even if your child dies.

My Mother’s Day 2018 was blurry and numb, still reeling from stepping onto an unknown and dark path. I looked over my shoulder at all I knew to be true about being a mom, and waved goodbye. Whatever the future brought for our second child, I would never stop being their mother. Being a mother means sending part of your heart out into the world, and sometimes, sadly, sending that part up to Heaven.

On good days, I am somewhat thankful for my daughter’s early arrival to eternal paradise. Our goal as mothers is to love and care for our children, keeping them safe from all harm. We cannot fully do that while we are here on Earth. On bad days, I ache and cry, beg and plead for peace. I sob and cling to her memory, playing our 48 days together over and over in my mind. I hold our son close and thank God for Him.

I feel split between being a “real mom” and a bereaved, mourning, broken mom, but my love is the same for both of my kids – endless. We may not mother our children in Heaven the same way we do in-person, but our hearts can’t tell the difference. They swell at their thought, break at their hurt, beat fast at their success. Removing the visual definition and requirement of being a mom brings about a peace and comfort, confirming/validating our title. I am blessed to think of my children nearly every moment of every day, as I am sure you think of yours. There is no rule book that says your children must be in your arms to celebrate Mother’s Day, though of course we wish they’d always be.

This Mother’s Day, no matter your stage in motherhood, take a moment to let the overwhelming love for your children be enough. Let your thoughts be flooded with them and smile.

Tears often fall because a mother’s love is powerful. “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” 1 Corinthians 13:7.

Dear grieving mom,

I extend my heart to you. Mine is broken, battered, and bruised, because of love, but also full of hope. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalm 34:18. Let your hurting heart be enough in the coming weeks, for that is proof of your love which can never be lessened.

Love, a mom who understands

MEET THE AUTHOR: MARISA BAESE

My husband and I welcomed our daughter, Anabel, into our lives on August 15th, 2018. She was born with a severe heart defect, HLHS, which we learned about at our 20 week ultrasound - the remaining half of my pregnancy was full of uncertainty and we prayed for guidance and kept the hope in being able to meet her. Meet her we did, Anabel stayed with us for 48 days, and while she never left the NICU, her story reached across the states through prayer and sharing. She has given us the best kind of love we never expected.

Connect with Marissa: Instagram @thecrazybaese