Tragic moments marked by grief have a way of standing still in our memories. Grief can make the world feel like it has stopped turning altogether. It is a powerful, overwhelming emotion one that touches every part of our hearts, minds, and bodies. Grief is mental suffering and distress over hardship or loss which applies to miscarriage because it is the loss of a developing human being in the womb.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with my third baby. It was two days before Thanksgiving. I felt a mixture of excitement, nervousness, joy, gratitude, and awe. Even in those earliest moments, I already loved this baby growing safely in my womb. Holding that positive pregnancy test, I felt an instant connection to this new life.

But that joy quickly became mingled with fear and uncertainty. My first prenatal labs showed low HCG levels, and I was told we would need to monitor them closely. In the days that followed, I went through multiple blood draws, waiting and hoping with each result.

Then came the first ultrasound. At what should have been eight weeks, I expected to see a tiny heartbeat signs of life flickering on the screen. Instead, there was only a gestational sac. No baby. No heartbeat. I was told it might simply be too early and to return in two weeks.

Those two weeks felt incredibly long. Deep down, I sensed something wasn’t right. When I returned for the second ultrasound, my fears were confirmed. The screen was still empty, no growth, no heartbeat, no fetal pole. Though the words were gentle, I understood what was being said. I quietly left, got into my car, and broke down. In that moment, it felt like time froze. My heart knew: this was a miscarriage.

What followed was a long and painful season. I remained physically pregnant for weeks, yet emotionally grieving the loss. There was no immediate closure. My body did not miscarry naturally, and I eventually needed medical intervention. I felt unprepared mentally, physically, and spiritually for the depth of the pain.

Grief in miscarriage is raw and disorienting. It can leave you feeling vulnerable, anxious, deeply sad, and alone. It raises questions that don’t always have clear answers. I found myself asking “Why?” over and over in prayer. Why this pain? Why this loss?

I didn’t receive a clear answer to that question. But over time, my prayers began to change. Instead of only asking why, I began to say, “Lord, I don’t understand but I trust that You are in control. I know we live in a broken world where suffering exists. Please help me walk through this. Help me draw closer to You. Help me use this for Your glory.”

The only way I knew how to navigate this grief was to bring it honestly before the Lord. I prayed through tears. I spent time daily in the Psalms, finding comfort in their honesty and lament. I journaled, shared my heart with others, asked for prayer, and allowed myself to truly feel the weight of the loss rather than suppress it.

Two passages of Scripture became anchors for my soul during this time.

In Matthew 11:28–30, Jesus invites us: “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest…” This is a gentle and personal invitation. We are not meant to carry grief alone. Christ welcomes us to bring our sorrow, our questions, and our exhaustion to Him. He meets us with compassion and offers rest for our souls even when circumstances remain painful.

Romans 8:28 reminds us that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him…” This does not mean that loss itself is good, nor that God delights in our pain. We live in a world affected by sin, where brokenness touches even the most sacred parts of life. But it does mean that God is still at work. He can bring purpose from pain, draw us closer to Him through suffering, and shape our hearts in ways we may not yet understand.

There is also a deep and tender comfort many hold onto in seasons like this that your baby is held safely in the arms of Jesus. Though their life on earth was brief, they are known fully by God, loved completely, and at peace in His presence. This truth can bring a quiet reassurance in the midst of overwhelming sorrow.

If you are walking through miscarriage right now, please know this: you are not alone. Your grief is real, your loss matters, and your pain is seen. Even in moments when God feels distant, He is near. Jesus Himself is no stranger to suffering He entered into it fully so that we would never have to walk through it alone.

There is no timeline for grief. There is no “right” way to feel. But there is an invitation to come, just as you are, and rest in the presence of a Savior who understands, who cares, and who holds you even in the deepest sorrow.

With compassion and truth,
Erica Kanson, Biblical Counselor