When You Don't Have Words for Your Friend Who Has Miscarried

It was only a couple of weeks after our first miscarriage. I was leaving the church bathroom on my way to pick up my son from the nursery. A fellow mom I barely knew stopped me at the door. “Hi Lara,” she said. She had that sympathetic tilt to her head that most people had when they saw me now. We exchanged the usual civilities, but when I thought she was done her bright blue eyes locked on mine. “I just wanted to say—” she bit her lip. “I just wanted to say ... I’m so sorry for your loss.” Tears were brimming in her eyes as she glanced over at her baby sound asleep in her car seat. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you cry,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “I just can’t imagine going through that. I’m so sorry.”

She gave no consoling words or advice. She didn’t spout off some nice Bible verses. And yet, this conversation is one that I treasure. It meant more to me than that mom ever thought and did more in my heart than she probably ever considered.

When someone experiences suffering or grief, especially one we haven’t experienced ourselves, our mouths often feel dry and empty. We don’t want to cause more harm, but we also hate to see a friend in pain. And so we often find ourselves standing awkwardly next to them with our mouths silently opening and closing, or our fingers dancing above the keyboard, trying to figure out what we can possibly say.

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