Created for eternity
Most people know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. From athletes donning pink gear to landmarks lit in soft rose hues, the message is hard to miss – and rightly so. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. While the journey is often harrowing, advances in early detection and treatment have given hope and healing to millions.
But October is also another kind of awareness month – one that is far less visible and rarely spoken of, even in the church.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month – a time to remember and honor babies who died far too soon. This includes losses from miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, ectopic pregnancy, and other causes. This observance was first proclaimed in 1988 by President Ronald Reagan, who recognized that for far too many parents, this heartbreak goes unspoken and unacknowledged. “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses their partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them,” he said. “This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience.”
As a young priest, I encountered one of these tragedies early in my ministry. A young couple in our parish lost their nearly full-term baby just weeks before Christmas. Everywhere you turn at Christmas, it is baby Jesus. I still remember the hollow ache that hung in the air, the grief that could not be comforted.
Since then, I’ve walked with many families through the valley of this particular shadow. Every time, the sorrow is real. The loss is real. And yet, so often, their grief is met with silence – or worse, with well-meaning but deeply painful clichés: “At least it was early,” “You can try again,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Too often, grieving parents are left to mourn quietly, alone.
Last year, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month became deeply personal. Just hours after I had posted a message of support for grieving parents, I received the call no grandparent ever wants. My own granddaughter Charlotte Suzanne, almost full term, had died unexpectedly. One moment, we were joyfully anticipating her birth, and the next, we were weeping in an empty nursery she would never see.
There are no words for that kind of pain. There is no theological explanation that can ease it. And yet, in the depths of such sorrow, God meets us – not with answers, but with presence. I am grateful for the tender words so many of you offered and the cards you sent, the stories you shared of your own losses and your walk back into hope. As a church family, we are called to mourn with those who mourn, to bear one another’s burdens, to sit and by that presence say, “You are not alone,” and I am thankful for the ways you ministered to me.
If you are reading this and have experienced this loss, please know this: your grief matters. Your child matters. Whether their life was measured in weeks or months or moments – they were, and are, deeply loved. By you. And by God.
If you have never experienced this kind of loss, but know someone who has, I encourage you not to turn away. Don’t be afraid of saying the wrong thing. A simple, heartfelt “I’m so sorry. I’m here.” means more than you know.
As Christians, we believe that God does not create for weeks or months or even years – God creates for eternity. The little ones we remember this month, though they spent only a short time on earth, are part of God’s eternal story. They are not forgotten. They are not lost. They are held in the arms of a loving Father, where every tear is wiped away.
We, too, are part of that eternal story. We spend only a brief moment of eternity in this world: our hope is not here. It is in the promise of resurrection, reunion, and the deep, abiding love of a God who knows our grief – and redeems it.
So, this October, wear pink in solidarity with those fighting breast cancer – and light a candle (especially on October 15), send a note, say a prayer, or simply hold space for those walking the quiet, lonely road of pregnancy and infant loss. Because in the heart of God, no one is forgotten. And in the body of Christ, no grief is borne alone.
With love,
Nancy+