Regina’s Writings: When Dying Comes Before Living

They were quiet, decent people who were new to the parish. It was New Year’s Day, and their much-wanted child was anxious to be born. But a devastating complication arose, and the baby lived for just 11 days.

While the mother was in the hospital recuperating from emergency surgery, she was desperate to talk to someone – anyone – about her grief. Not knowing what else to do, her husband contacted the parish Mothers Group and begged them to send women to visit his wife. Anyone. Please.

So the mothers came, their palms sweaty and their mouths dry, wondering what they could possibly say to a stranger whose baby was dying. The answer, of course, was nothing. But they could listen. They could walk alongside her in her grief. And they could pray.

That’s what they did.

When it was my turn to visit, I introduced myself, then listened quietly as the mother poured out her heart about the beautiful baby girl down the hall, so perfect and yet so near death. Together, we wept.

Two weeks later, the mothers attended the funeral. It took my breath away when the tiny white coffin was carried into the near-empty church. It was no bigger than an end table. Thank God the mothers were there.

Many years have passed, and the family still grieves. Nevertheless, they’ve never forgotten how the Body of Christ wrapped them in kindness during the worst days of their lives. We didn’t think of ourselves as the Body of Christ. We were just a bunch of terrified moms trying to soften the grief of two broken hearts.

The following year, another couple in the parish learned that their unborn child had a fatal heart defect and would live for only a few days. Despite pressure to terminate the pregnancy, the mother carried the pregnancy to term. It was the only time she’d ever spend with her baby.

For two long months, the Mothers Group was their link with sanity, enveloping the family in love. Moms brought meals, sent notes, and connected them with other couples who had suffered similar tragedies. And always, we prayed.

When the woman went into labor, the phone tree sprang into action. Then, in silence and with desperately heavy hearts, we kept a vigil with them as their baby died.

Over the years, these women supported families through infertility, miscarriage, and stillbirth. Broken hearts should not grieve alone.

Fortunately, the mother’s group shared celebrations as well. We nearly burst with joy when a tiny redheaded girl was adopted by a couple whose wait had seemed interminable. A woman who’d been told she would never bear children gave birth to two tiny miracles. A teenage mother was cared for beyond her wildest dreams as women provided clothing, car seats, babysitting, and friendship.

The mothers cared for one another in jubilation and tragedy. But perhaps their greatest gift was the love they offered to grieving families. And never was that love more needed than when dying came before living.