When Jonny and Jackie Gibson were told that their much longed-for daughter had died in the womb at 39 weeks, their world was turned upside down. Stillbirth is a trauma that many couples have experienced, and Jackie has told their story as a way of helping those who have been entrusted with this same peculiar grief. You Are Still a Mother is beautifully written and takes the reader into the inner world of this grieving couple. In less than 100 pages, we are led into the sadness of their loss, walked through the mystery of divine providence, and then guided into the glories of resurrection hope. Given the brevity of the work, it achieves a remarkable amount both theologically and pastorally.

The opening chapter is the heart-wrenching account of the Gibsons’ experience of finding out that their unborn daughter Leila was dead. Jackie describes the initial anxiety she felt when she stopped feeling the movement in her womb that provides the reassurance pregnant mothers desire. Then came the trip to the hospital. As readers we know what is coming, so our hearts get increasingly heavy as Jackie describes a series of delays because of faulty scanning machines, and the telling signs that something is wrong—a nurse whose communication changes as they watch the ultrasound screen, and the silent drawing of a privacy curtain. Then come the six words that changed the Gibsons’ lives: ‘I’m sorry. There is no heartbeat’ (p. 3).

This devastating and soul-crushing blow was then followed by the news that the agony was to be prolonged, as Jackie is told that she needs to return home to wait for labour to start naturally. Three dark days later the Gibsons returned to the hospital for Jackie to deliver their little girl, and we are now, finally, introduced to Leila—her dark head of hair, her chubby legs, and her family likeness. As this first, shocking, chapter ends, we are left reeling with this family in the unreality of the normal (taking their 4-year-old son to preschool) but wholly abnormal (an empty Moses basket and unused new-born essentials) lives to which they have returned.

In the rest of the book, Jackie walks the reader through her experience of grief, and what is particularly striking is the way that her theology shapes and enables that journey to take place in a positive and God-honouring way. Each chapter describes an aspect of her suffering and expresses the emotional and theological questions that inevitably arise in such situations. She then offers simple, but profound, theological answers, and by taking the reader through her own wrestling, and peppering each chapter with Scripture, Puritan quotes, and elements of hymnody, the reader is given something of a handbook of applied pastoral theology.

In chapter 2, ‘The Everlasting Arms’, we glimpse the darkness of the valley the Gibsons were in. Here Jackie addresses the ‘where is God in all this?’ question, particularly when she felt herself to be ‘plummeting into a bottomless cavern’ (p. 11). She describes how a friend sharing Deuteronomy 33:27, ‘The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms’, was the spur she needed to keep believing God was with her and holding her when her feelings threatened to overpower her faith. Chapter 3 introduces us to the ‘Man of Sorrows’ and answers the question, ‘Does God care?’ This chapter describes the comfort Jackie took from the tears of our Lord as he grieved his friend Lazarus (John 11:35), and how, as she reflected on Jesus’s suffering, she came to see that she not only had a companion in her grief who fully understood her pain, but one who was also her Saviour.

Chapter 4, ‘Written in His Book’, explores the most difficult pastoral question that comes with suffering: How can human tragedy be reconciled with the sovereignty of God? Gibson recounts how the ‘what if?’ questions threatened to paralyse her, but then takes us to Psalm 139 and with simple clarity magnifies the sovereign providence of God in all the twists and turns of life. Quoting the eighteenth-century theologian, Thomas Boston, she reminds us that in our grief we must seek ‘the doing of God in it’ (p. 22). Chapter 5, ‘Things Too Wonderful for Me’, explores the question of the goodness of God in suffering and again, with exegetical acumen and the kind of pastoral wisdom and sensitivity that her experience has grown in her, carefully walks the reader to the right conclusion. God is good (Ps 145:17) even when we don’t understand his ways, and it is right that we trust that ‘behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling face’ (p. 31).

Chapter 6, ‘Precious in His Sight’, speaks to the question of purpose. When a couple loses their baby, they often wonder about the ‘point’ of their child’s life. In response, this chapter offers a succinct theology of personhood and magnifies the value and worth of every child that is conceived. In a culture that denies the value of the unborn, Jackie’s celebration of the value of her daughter, not just to her family but to God, is a delightful reminder of the significance of even the shortest of human lives.

In chapters 7–10, Gibson speaks to the lingering questions that can trouble parents, especially mothers, when they lose a child. She covers the question of motherhood in ‘You are Still a Mother’ (ch. 7). She then, in ‘Safe in His Arms’ (ch. 8), addresses the ‘But where is my child?’ question that often emerges with the passing of time. The ‘Will I ever be happy again?’ question is addressed in ‘The Pain Will Change’ (ch. 9) and the ‘How can this be working for good?’ is the subject of ‘All Things for Good?’ (ch. 10). These chapters provide substantial theological answers to these questions, but it is theology clothed in broken-hearted sensitivity—a combination that characterises the whole book.

The final two chapters, ‘Heaven is Our Home’ (ch. 11) and ‘After Winter, Spring’ (ch. 12), turn the reader’s eyes to the precious hope of our future bodily resurrection. At this point the tears of sadness, frustration, and grief that have wrinkled the book’s pages are turned to tears of joy! Gibson’s beautiful description of how resurrection morning will be for Leila echoes how it will be for all who are in Christ: ‘Leila was laid to rest in a small English church cemetery.… She is waiting for the Last Spring to begin. On that day, in the light of the risen sun, the Gardener will appear. And he will say, “Leila, come forth”’ (p. 76). What a glorious hope!

Throughout the book, Jackie’s testimony to the Lord’s faithfulness in her pain and loss is striking. Indeed, there is no tone of bitterness or hint of resentment anywhere to be found. The effect of this is that the reader is drawn to the God of all comfort and to Christ, the man of sorrows, and reminded (in the words of Charles Spurgeon) that ‘even when we cannot trace God’s hand, we can trust God’s heart’ (cited on p. 26).

As a pastor, I have given this book to several people, some who are experiencing their own version of the same loss as the Gibsons’. But I have also given it to others who are wrestling with different struggles that need the same theological and pastoral balm that Jackie Gibson so ably dispenses. I am confident that You Are Still a Mother will provide clarity, comfort, and hope to any hurting soul.