Grief Doesn’t Ask Permission
Grief isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s the ache that shows up at the grocery store, in the calendar reminder that never got deleted, or in the empty space where a baby should have been. It’s in the moments no one prepares you for, the ordinary ones that suddenly feel unbearable. This blog is meant to give language to those moments and to remind you that you are not failing God just because you still feel them.
One day after losing Baby Goodwin, our first son, I was leaving the grocery store, loading bags into my car. As I shut the trunk, I heard laughter behind me. It was a mother packing her newborn baby and her two other small children into the car. Without warning, my heart sank. Instantly, I wished it were me, strapping my baby into his car seat, adjusting the mirror, hearing his little sounds fill the car.
I desperately wanted to be pregnant again.
In that moment, sadness washed over me, followed quickly by anger. Angry at my body all over again. How could my body fail me like this? I couldn’t help but wrestle with the thoughts that so many women silently carry. The Bible tells us to be fruitful. We’re taught that if we are faithful, we won’t have to endure things like miscarriage. So why me? Why was this my story?
It amazed me how seeing or hearing the smallest thing could trigger emotions I thought I had already worked through, or at least come to terms with. Grief doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t follow a timeline. It resurfaces when you least expect it, reminding you of what was lost and what was supposed to be.
In that moment, I had to make a choice. I had to lean into God and trust the process, even when it didn’t make sense, even when it hurt.
Looking back now, as I watch my three children grow up, I can honestly say that I appreciate what I went through, not because it was easy, and not because it didn’t break me at times, but because it shaped the mother I am today. I cherish my time with my children deeply. I don’t take the moments for granted. I appreciate the everyday things.
That doesn’t mean they don’t get on my nerves sometimes, because they absolutely do. Even when they’re being annoying or disrespectful, I still love on them fiercely. I’m filled with gratitude. I give my all to my children because I remember the state I was in when I lost our three angel babies. I know what it feels like to long for what I now hold.
My daughter’s, Marae, 5th Birthday Party
To the women who are currently walking through pregnancy loss or infant loss, I see you. I’m praying for you. Please be strong, even when you feel like you can’t be. Your angels are watching over you.
Share this post with someone who may feel unseen or who has experienced pregnancy or infant loss. Pour into them. Support them. We need to stick together.
And if you feel led to give—especially if you don’t know how else to support, please consider donating to The Goodwin Family Project: Hopeful Heart Initiative. Your support helps families facing pregnancy and infant loss with burial and cremation costs that no one ever prepares you for. You can help a mother lay her baby to rest with dignity, not in a hospital’s community crematory vault, but in a way that honors her child’s life.
We help bring peace to mothers and families by providing funds so they can bury or cremate their precious baby and receive an urn; something tangible to hold onto, a way to keep their baby close forever.
Thank you so much to everyone who has subscribed to my blog. And if you haven’t yet, it’s never too late. 🤍
With Love,
Morgan Goodwin
