There comes a moment in grief that feels especially lonely.
It’s not always in the very beginning, when the shock is fresh and the world seems to stop spinning. Often, it comes later. Weeks, months, or even years after your loss, when life around you has moved forward, but your heart still feels tender, raw, and deeply aware of what is missing.
The check-in messages slow.
The casseroles stop coming.
The calendar fills again.
And somehow, you’re expected to be okay.
But grief doesn’t follow timelines. And love doesn’t expire.
When support fades but the ache remains
After stillbirth or infant loss, there is often an unspoken shift. In the early days, people are gentle. They speak in hushed tones. They give you space to cry.
Then, slowly, the world resumes its rhythm.
And you may find yourself wondering:
Why does it still hurt this much?
Why do I feel like everyone else has moved on except me?
If this is where you are, let this be a gentle reminder: there is nothing wrong with you.
Grief doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you loved deeply. It means your child mattered — and still does.
The long middle of grief
There is a part of grief no one prepares you for...the long middle.
It’s the season where your loss is no longer new, but it is still very real. Where your baby’s name may not be spoken as often, but they are never far from your thoughts. Where life continues; birthdays, school drop-offs, grocery trips, and yet you carry both love and loss with you everywhere you go.
This is where many grieving mothers feel the most alone.
You may smile in public while aching in private. You may function, care for others, and show up all while quietly missing the child you should still be holding.
And that quiet grief deserves just as much compassion as the early days.
You are allowed to still miss them
There is no deadline for grief.
You are allowed to still miss your baby.
You are allowed to feel waves of sorrow years later.
You are allowed to hold joy and grief in the same breath.
Healing does not mean forgetting.
Moving forward does not mean leaving them behind.
Your love did not end when their life did.
When faith feels fragile
For many mothers, this season can also bring spiritual questions. You may believe in God and still feel distant. You may trust Him and still wrestle with unanswered questions.
Both can exist at the same time.
Faith after loss is often quieter, simpler, and more honest. Sometimes it looks like whispered prayers. Sometimes it looks like clinging to Scripture when words fail. And sometimes it looks like simply showing up, even when you don’t understand.
God is not intimidated by your grief. He is near to the brokenhearted, especially in the long middle, when the world seems to have forgotten.
You don’t have to carry this alone
If you found your way here, let this be your reminder that you are not forgotten and you are not alone.
The Caislee Rylin Foundation exists to walk alongside families navigating life after stillbirth and infant loss not just in the beginning, but in every season that follows.
If today is heavy, we invite you to receive a few gentle offerings created with grieving hearts in mind:
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A free Scripture card, offering words of truth and comfort for the days you need something steady to hold onto
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A playlist that carried our family through the darkest season and continues to meet us in the quiet
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Additional free resources designed to support you wherever you are on this journey
There is no rush. No pressure. Just a soft place to land.
A gentle closing
If the world has moved on, but your grief hasn’t, you are not behind.
You are loving.
You are remembering.
And you are carrying something sacred.
Your child’s life matters. Your grief matters. And you deserve support for as long as you need it.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
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