You Lost Her Baby Too: A devotional for Grieving Grandparents
A devotional by Patti Schultz, Ed.D.
“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)
I said goodbye to every one of them before I ever got to hold them. Each time, well-meaning people filled the silence with something, anything, to make the moment feel less unbearable. Words like these: “She's in a better place” and “At least you know you can get pregnant.” And “God needed another angel.” I nodded because I didn't have the strength to do anything else, and I tucked those words away in the same box where I keep the ultrasound pictures and the tiny hospital bracelets. The words are still there and they still sting.
What I wish someone had known, what I wish I had known, is tucked into two Bible verses most people skip past. In the Bible story about Job, his friends heard what happened to him and they rushed to support him. Job’s friends sat with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights. Scripture says, “No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was” (Job 2:13 NIV). Seven days. No talking script. No Bible verse tucked into a frozen meal. Just three men sitting in the dirt beside a man who had lost everything, letting his grief be the only thing in the room.
When I experienced grief after the loss of each of my babies, I didn't need anyone to explain why. I needed someone to sit on my kitchen floor with me while the chicken noodle soup went cold on the counter.
In the Bible, the Apostle Paul writes that God comforts us in our troubles so that we can turn around and comfort someone else with the very comfort we received (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). That verse means something different to a grandparent than it does to almost anyone else in your daughter's life. You are not just a bystander to her grief. You have grief of your own, comfort of your own, scars of your own from griefs long before this one. That comfort you were given, however it came to you, however long ago, is exactly what she needs from you now.
You may not know quite what to say to your daughter, or what to do with your own grief in all of this. You lost a grandchild too—sometimes more than one—and you are watching your own child carry a weight you cannot lift for her, no matter how much you wish you could.
Here is what passing that comfort forward can look like, in the ordinary hours of an ordinary week: Let her say the name out loud, even at year six, even at year sixteen. A due date will still ache. A song on the radio will still catch her off guard in the grocery store parking lot. Let it. Skip the reasons. Skip the plan, the purpose, the silver lining. Just say, “I don't understand this either. I'm here.” God never gave Job an explanation for his profound suffering. He gave him presence instead. That is still the better gift, and it is the comfort you can hand down.
Remember with her, not just for her. Ask about the memory she keeps returning to. She has already noticed who says the name and who changes the subject. Be gentle around other grandchildren. “At least you have the others” cuts deeper than silence ever could. Show up in the small, unglamorous way: A thoughtful text message on the anniversary. Sitting on the floor when there is nothing left to say. That kind of silent support is like Job's friends, all these centuries later, still sitting in the dirt beside someone they love.
You are grieving too, in your own quiet way. That matters to God as much as your daughter's grief does. The comfort you were given somewhere along the way was never meant to end with you. Stay close, stay soft, and let her know that whatever she feels, however long it lasts, she does not have to carry it alone. Neither do you.
Let’s Pray:
Dear God,
Be near to my daughter (or daughter-in-law) in the way only You can. Help me love her well while I grieve this too. Let the comfort You have given me somewhere in my own losses become the comfort I hand to her now.
In Jesus’ name, I pray.
Amen.
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Songs of Reflection #1: “Blessings” by Laura Story (ASL cover by Meg W). Listen to it here.
Songs of Reflection #2: “Sparrows” by Jason Gray (ASL cover by Amber Shorter). Listen to it here.
Songs of Reflection #3: “Draw Me Nearer” by Meredith Andrews. Listen to it here.
Song of Reflection #4: “My Prayer for You” by Alisa Turner. Listen to it here.
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Note from Patti for you: If you or someone you love is walking through the loss of a grandchild, know that you are not walking alone. Feel free to share your own story or a memory with me at pattischultz.com. Our community is here to weep, and to hope, together.
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Author Bio:
Dr. Patti Schultz’s inspiring journey weaves a tapestry of compassion, resilience, and divine hope.
Formerly a public school principal, professor, teacher, and interpreter for the deaf, she now dedicates her life to a heartfelt ministry rooted in her personal experiences.
As a mother to three miracle boys here on Earth and a member of a heavenly soccer team, Patti’s story is one of unwavering faith and profound love. Her decade-long battle with infertility and recurrent loss fuels her deep compassion for grieving mothers, guiding them toward healing through the comforting embrace of Jesus Christ’s garment.
Patti’s gentle wisdom offers a safe haven for women navigating pain, reminding them they are never alone. Through her ministry, she seeks to envelop grieving mothers in divine comfort, encouraging hope, renewal, and the reassurance that God's love is always near, wrapping them in His compassionate hem as they walk the path to healing.
Living in northern Michigan, she cherishes precious moments with family and community, drawing strength from faith and connection.
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Connect with Patti:
Website: pattischultz.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dr.pattischultz/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Dr.Patti.Schultz
Email: dr.patti.schultz@gmail.com
