Hannah's letter: Dear Mummy

I know this isn’t what you expected. You began dreaming of your life together when you saw those two lines on the pregnancy test. You imagined taking them home, the colour of their nursery, and a lifetime of memories. But now those dreams are shattered, replaced by the painful reality of the ​“nevers” – never bringing them home, never using the car seat, never seeing them grow up.

I’m so sorry that you’re part of this unbearable loss. I’ve been where you are, in that appointment hearing the news that changes everything. For me, the specific diagnosis didn’t matter as much as the realisation that I would live a lifetime without my baby. It left me broken, in utter despair. But I want to tell you that there is hope. It may seem impossible right now, but I promise you, it’s coming.

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Our God is a God of hope. The Bible is a story of hope and through Jesus, we can experience it even in our pain. God created your baby, lovingly and purposefully. Your baby’s life is precious, no matter its length. It takes great strength to carry them through pregnancy, birth, and beyond, and though it may feel like you’re alone, God honours those who honour Him.

I’ve found comfort in the Bible’s account of Hannah and her son Samuel. Hannah prayed for years for her baby, and when God finally blessed her, she named him Samuel, meaning ​“requested from God.” Then she did something remarkable: she gave him back to God. Though our stories are different, the essence remains the same: our babies were entrusted to us by God and then returned to Him.

Saying ​“yes” to this journey is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It meant saying ​“Yes, Lord, I’ll continue this pregnancy and surrender to Your will, knowing it means heartbreak for me. Yes, Lord, I’ll carry this baby, though I’ll end up with empty arms. Yes, Lord, I’ll trust that my baby is with You in Heaven, even when it feels unbearable here on earth.”

This is far from easy. Some days you may wonder if you’ll survive it. But through the hope and strength of Jesus, you will.

Trusting God has never felt more real to me than it does now. He is the One holding your baby when you no longer can. I have a 3-year-old daughter who sometimes stays with my parents. I trust them completely with her care. So, in the same way, I trust God with my baby boy, knowing He’s caring for him with love and safety until I can join them in Heaven.

Please cling to that trust as you walk this painful path. If you’re a believer, you have the assurance of eternal life in Heaven when your time here is done. Your baby will be waiting for you there. That doesn’t mean you won’t grieve deeply. The absence of your baby will always be felt, and the tears will still fall. But, as Paul says in 1 Thessalonians, we do not ​“grieve as others who have no hope,” because we know where our baby is, and we know we’ll see them again.

Hold fast to the promises of our faith, the ones rooted in Scripture and secured through Christ. This is how you will survive, and this is how, even after your baby is gone and the flowers stop coming, you’ll still be able to say, ​“God is good.” And because God is good, He created something beautiful within pregnancy – a profound detail that connects you to your baby forever. It’s called Fetal-Maternal Chimerism, meaning your baby’s DNA will live in your body for the rest of your life. I like to think of it as a little piece of Heaven living inside me.

Trust the One who created your baby, who will hold them until you can again. Because one day, Mummy, you’ll hold your baby once more, and you’ll never have to say goodbye again.

With prayers and love, standing with you in hope and solidarity,

Hannah