Forever 29. Every bereaved parent reading this knows exactly what that means.
April 13th is my daughter, Becca’s, birthday. She would have turned 41 this week. She died at age 29, so knowing she would be in her 40’s now makes it seem like she has been gone for much longer than eleven years. Wow! How is that even possible? I have a hard time wrapping my head around it or imagining Becca that old.
I should have already called her to make plans. “What are you doing for your birthday? Do you want me to make something, and you and your family come over here for supper?” I should have already gone shopping for the ingredients of her favorite cake – chocolate filled angel food.
It doesn’t help that the further away we get from our child being gone, it seems the fewer people want to continue celebrating with us, which really hurts. Far too many people question why we still want to find a way to acknowledge our child’s birthday when they are no longer here with us. The reason is pretty simple. It is because we gave birth to a human being which is a big deal! (Or we adopted a child who became like our own flesh and blood, and their birthday is the day they came into the world as our special chosen gift.) Just because he or she is no longer on this earth does not erase that fact, or our memory of it, nor does it take away our instantly fierce and intense love for the little bundle of joy that came into our lives that day.
The day our children entered the world was a special gift from God, and it should be celebrated, even if no one wants to join in. You may want to do the same thing every year, such as bake their favorite cake. 
If no one wants to share it with you, take it to a homeless shelter and let them know it is in honor of your child’s birthday. (The people there know what it is like to be going through a rough time. They will appreciate your thoughtfulness and probably want to hear you share about your son or daughter.)
You may want to do something different each year, depending on the circumstances. Right now, that is easy for me, since we live in the Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home), which means we are literally in a different place each year. One year I got my guitar out and wrote a song, honoring the day our children came into this world and into our lives. (It is called I Remember Well, which has since been recorded. You can find it on most listening apps such as Spotify, Pandora, iHeart radio, etc. or click here to listen.)
This year, we will have the blessing of spending it with Becca’s twenty-year-old daughter who now lives in Tennessee. I am making Becca’s favorite chocolate-filled angel food cake and we will remember and celebrate Becca together, which I am looking forward to, in a very bittersweet way for sure.
Happy Birthday, Becca! I celebrate the day you entered this world, with all the emotions that now come with it, but most of all with the same deep love I had, and will always have, for you.
How do you feel about your child’s birthday? Some of you may not want to celebrate his or her birthday because it is just too painful to not have them here. I understand that, but I want to gently remind you that your child’s life is still worth celebrating. Please ask the Holy Spirit to help you still see the blessing of this very special day when it comes.
It doesn’t mean you won’t cry, or not feel your heart breaking. It just means you are acknowledging the gift given to you, and showing how thankful you are that you got to be your child’s mom or dad, no matter how short that time was.
And you don’t have to wait for his or her birthday. You can take time right now to celebrate in your heart and thank God for the gift of the day your child came into this world.
As a final note: I love to help pareavors celebrate their children’s birthdays and do so by announcing your children on my Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast the week of his or her birthday. If you would like me to share your child who is no longer here with our thousands of listeners, click here and submit the needed information.
Since this is the birthday week of Laura’s daughter, Becca, Their Birthday is So Hard! is also this week’s topic on the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast.
Along with talking about how difficult their birthdays can be, Laura shares some encouragement in this area, as well as various ideas on how to celebrate our child’s birthday, even while deeply missing them. You will also get to hear Laura sing the entire song that she wrote, “I Remember Well” which plays in the background of each week’s birthday segment. Listen to it here, or find the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.
Today’s blog was taken from Laura’s book being released later this month called Reflections of Hope: Daily Reflections for Bereaved Parents. If you would like to know more, click here.
Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents
Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.
If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.
If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.
- Check out the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope weekly podcast
- Subscribe to Laura’s YouTube channel.
- If you are a bereaved parent, we encourage you to connect with us on our private Facebook page or our public Facebook page.
- If you are not a bereaved parent but want to support those who are, or want to follow us as we give hope to these precious parents, please connect with us at Friends of GPS Hope on Facebook.
I have recently had several moms tell me that they didn’t think they ever would or could get past the darkness, but now two years, or three years, or five years after their child’s death, something is stirring inside them that they want to start feeling alive again. I see this as a sign that the “winter” of grief is coming to a close, and the new growth of spring is on its way.
press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring. Hosea 6:3 (NLT)
We see this specifically when David and Bathsheba lost their infant son. The Bible tells us that David went in to comfort Bathsheba his wife. He lay down with her and they had sexual relations (2 Samuel 12:24).
Isn’t it amazing to know that one reason God gave us the gift of sexual intimacy is so we can comfort each other? It is like having our own personal En Gedi in our scorching and dry wilderness of grief!
know Him, because who does that? Who sees all the darkness inside me that I try to hide from others, and still chooses me? That is a kind of love I want and need to be part of; to know and to be known. I want to know God in the same deep, intimate way that He knows me.
Life here is hard. To be human means to go through suffering. It is pretty amazing that Jesus came here as a human, and faced a depth of suffering greater than any of us ever will. But God is with us, even when we cannot see or feel His presence. Jesus knows what that is like, because He felt the same way in His place of darkness.
He knows you fully and completely and wants to be with you – every part of you; the great, the good, the bad and the downright ugly parts of you. And you have the opportunity to know Him in the depths of suffering that few others can, which means we also get to know Him deeply in His glorious resurrection power (Philippians 3:10).
Every morning when we wake up, at some point the realization hits us that our child is no longer here and will not be part of our day. It can feel like they died all over again.
If someone has an amputation, first they must heal, both physically and emotionally, from having that body part cut off; and the emotional healing takes much longer than the physical.
who have lost a child, anything under five years is considered fresh grief. So, I am not surprised when a bereaved parent does not believe they will ever have a life worth living again. I know I didn’t believe it.
