For those with trigger warnings, this post is about pregnancy loss.

In 2007, while serving as a Director of Children’s Ministry, I was pregnant with my third child. At 22 weeks, our baby died in utero, and I had to go through labor and delivery knowing I would not be bringing him home. My arms ached. It was one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life. His due date was July 7, 2007, and we named him Tobias Thomas, after my dad. Though his life was brief, he was deeply loved, prayed for, and forever remains part of our family.

About a year later, another family in the same congregation experienced the devastating loss of their third baby during pregnancy. A pastor met with them, prayed with them, and offered pastoral care. Later, he remarked that he didn’t really see the point because the baby was “just a cluster of cells.”

His words stopped me. I gently reminded him that I had experienced the same kind of loss only a year earlier. To me, Tobias was never “just a cluster of cells.” He was my son—a gift from God. He had a name, a place in our family, and was deeply loved and cherished. Most importantly, he was not only my child, but also a beloved child of God.

That experience profoundly shaped my understanding of grief and pastoral care. When people mourn the loss of a pregnancy or infant, they are not grieving an idea or a possibility; they are grieving a relationship. Compassion begins by honoring that love, speaking the child’s name when possible, and recognizing that every life, no matter how brief, has immeasurable worth in the eyes of God.

Now I find myself walking alongside another family who has experienced the heartbreaking loss of their third baby in utero. I don’t know the details of what happened, and they don’t matter. What matters is that they are grieving the loss of their child. As their pastor, I am determined to offer them something very different from what was once said to me. I will never tell them their baby was “just a cluster of cells.” Instead, I will hold sacred space for their grief, speak words of hope, pray with them, bless their child’s life, and accompany them as we release their baby’s cremated remains into the river. (Yes, this is legal where I live.)

This is my first time leading a memorial service like this, and while I wish no family ever needed such a service, I consider it a holy privilege to honor this child’s life, entrust them into God’s loving care, and remind this family that their baby was, and always will be, deeply loved as a precious child of theirs and a beloved child of God.

Here is the order of service:

Gathering: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today we gather with both sorrow and hope. We come to entrust this precious child, known completely by God, loved completely by God and into God’s eternal care. Though this little life was far shorter than we dreamed, the love shared will never be forgotten. 

The Bible reminds us:

From Isaiah 49:16 – God said, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”

and

From Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

Reflection: Some lives are measured not by years, but by love. This baby was loved before birth, prayed for, hoped for, and already held in the hearts of family. While we grieve what might have been, we also trust the God who creates every life and whose love is stronger than death.

Just as rivers continue their journey, God’s grace carries us forward. We release these earthly remains today, but we do not release our love. That love remains with us, and we trust that this child rests forever in the embrace of Christ.

Prayer

Gracious God, You are the giver of life and the keeper of every soul. Today we place this beloved child into your loving hands. Hold this little one in the joy of your presence.

Bring comfort to those who mourn. When tears come, remind them that Jesus also wept. When questions remain unanswered, surround them with your peace that passes all understanding. Give them strength to carry both grief and hope, trusting that nothing, not even death, can separate us from your love in Christ Jesus.

Amen.

The Release: (As the ashes are gently released into the flowing water.) 

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend this child to you. As these ashes become part of the waters of creation, we remember that all life comes from you and returns to you. May this flowing river remind us that your mercy is ever new, your love never ends, and your promises never fail. Go in peace, precious Samuel. You are forever known, forever loved, and forever held by God.

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.

Save us from the time of trial
and deliver us from evil.

For the kingdom, the power,
and the glory are yours,
now and forever. Amen.

Blessing 

By Pastor Meta Herrick Carlson:

This blessing unravels without guidance or permission. It tumbles and ribbons into the heartbreak and cramps of this traumatic loss, into the corners of aching, the places that already and fiercely miss holding new life.

This blessing needs no slumber. I will keep you company in the quiet sorrow of light, when you wonder whether you ever will sleep to dream again. It will keep watch if you drift off, and help hold everything terrible.

This blessing will whisper when you are ready that you are a good parent, and this little one has been blessed for a lifetime of weeks wrapped in your care, which will be real and alive and for you both forever.

_______________________________

So May the God who created you,
the Christ who welcomes little children,
and the Holy Spirit, the Comforter,
surround you with peace today and always.

May you leave this place knowing that this child’s life matters, his love endures, and God’s promises are forever.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.