There’s no manual for this kind of loss. You wanted to be a dad. You were ready or at least willing to rise to the moment. You said, “We’ll figure it out.” You offered to be there, to take responsibility. But the decision was made without you.
And now, you carry a father’s heart with no child to give it to.
That emptiness doesn’t go away easily. Sometimes it turns into anger. Other times it shows up as numbness or isolation. You might not even realize how much it shaped your view of women, relationships, or God. You may have built walls to keep from ever feeling that kind of pain again.
But God hasn’t forgotten your story or your child. Psalm 139 reminds us, “You knit me together in my mother’s womb… all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” Your son or daughter was known by God, fully and deeply. And He sees you too, the father who never got to be one in the way you hoped.
You see, godly manhood isn’t defined by control or by outcomes. It’s defined by how you respond when life breaks you open.
Jesus showed us that. He faced betrayal, injustice, and pain but He never stopped loving, never stopped surrendering to the Father’s will. In the Garden of Gethsemane, when betrayal and denial from friends was before Him, He prayed, “Not My will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)
That’s strength. That’s godly manhood. Not silence, not bitterness but surrender.
Maybe part of your healing is releasing the “what ifs.” What if she had chosen differently? What if I had said more? What if I could’ve stopped it?
God knows those questions, and He meets you in them with compassion, not condemnation. He doesn’t minimize your pain He honors it. And He invites you to use that love, that ache, as fuel for something redemptive: to advocate for life, to mentor young men, to stand up when others stay silent, to become a protector in a world that desperately needs more of them.
You are still a father. Your child’s life still carries meaning. And the God who calls you His son will teach you how to carry that love forward not as guilt, but as purpose.
