The preacher of Ecclesiastes tells us: “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart” (7:2). The living should take this to heart—which includes children, not just adults. Often, when we go to a house of mourning, we leave our children at the door. But if “a sad face is good for the heart” (7:3), then why are we withholding this good thing from them?

“No one will ever read this book!” I said to my husband, Jonny. I had just finished reading a draft of his new kids’ book, The Moon Is Always Round. It centers on conversations he had with our 3-year-old son, Ben, after Ben’s baby sister, Leila, was stillborn at full-term in March 2016. Unsurprisingly, I’d cried through almost the whole book. So naturally I thought, What parent is going to read this to their children? What mom or dad is going to reach over to the bookshelf and think, “Ah yes, here’s the perfect bedtime story to send my child off to sleep”?

Four years ago, Jonny and I wouldn’t have chosen to read this book to our son, either. We certainly wouldn’t have chosen for its story to become a reality in Ben’s world. He had enjoyed a happy childhood; we never imagined he’d have to experience the horrors of death so early in his life, and so near. We never guessed that the first sibling he’d hold would be his lifeless little sister. We hoped Ben would enjoy a long, carefree childhood before this groaning world groaned so loudly he couldn’t ignore it. But instead, death came early—unexpected—and cruelly smashed our hope into pieces.

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