When the Miracle You Prayed For Doesn’t Come

I came across a post from a woman who had lost her child. One of her questions pierced through me:

“What do you do when the miracle you prayed for doesn’t come? When the God you trusted doesn’t answer the way you hoped? When His will means your baby dies?”

Those words hit me deeply. They brought me back to how I felt when I gave birth to my son, David. Just like the woman in that post, I also gave birth—and my son was taken from me 22 hours later. What made it even more painful was that it happened on our first wedding anniversary.

The Day I Met and Lost My Son

I still remember everything vividly. After giving birth, I waited for them to place David in my arms, as they usually do once they confirm a baby’s vital signs. Instead, they told me he was having trouble breathing and needed immediate checks. I wasn’t afraid—not yet. I thought, It happens. Some babies just need oxygen. He’ll be fine in a few hours. But two hours passed. Then four. They told us he had been moved to the NICU. They asked if we wanted to see him before I moved to my room from the delivery. I said yes, without hesitation, I didn’t understand how serious it was.

But when I walked into the NICU, I saw not one—but countless tubes attached to my baby’s tiny body. My whole body collapsed inside me. Everything about my pregnancy has been healthy. My delivery went smoothly. So why was my baby lying there like that?

The Prayer That Turned Into Grief

The next day, the doctors told us they weren’t sure he would make it. They were doing their best. I had prayed the entire night before—and prayed even harder after that conversation. When they told us his condition was worsening, I asked if I could at least hold him.

And as I was holding him, I prayed like I had never prayed before: “Jesus, Jesus, save our son! Please—miracle, come!” I didn’t care about the people around us. We were desperate. I was desperate. We begged. We hoped. We believed in His miracles.

And then… his heart stopped beating. I don’t know if there is anything more shattering than that moment. I asked God, “Why? Why us? Why David? Why my son?”

When His Ways Break Yours

In worship we often sing, “We want Your ways, O Lord.” But what happens when His ways tear apart yours. When His way means your prayer goes unanswered. When His way means your baby dies. When His way means going home to an empty crib. When His way means facing Christmas without your precious one. When His way means the dreams and hopes you had for your child are gone—unexpectedly, painfully, forever.

Where Faith Begins

And yet, in that same moment of unbearable grief, I felt His presence like never before. A peace—a peace that transcends understanding—covered me. Strength came when I had none. Breath returned when I thought I couldn’t breathe. God carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. 

That was when I understood what faith truly is. Faith rooted in deep trust—without proof. Not faith because we received the miracle we wanted, but faith that God’s ways are higher than ours. That He is not finished writing my story. That His promises remain true even when my heart is broken. Faith that He will comfort me. Faith that He will carry me.  Faith that even this life—and even this grief—is part of HIS-story.

Now I fully understand what it means to “carry your cross daily”—to choose God even in pain. To choose God when living hurts. To choose God over bitterness, over questions, over fear.

This Christmas, let’s remember that Jesus came down from heaven, to save us. He is our Immanuel. We are closer to God.