Turning 40 After Loss: A Story of Fear, Faith, and Quiet Hope

40 years of existence. 

I was hoping for a kaboom!

A sudden shift in your existence. 

Life shouting, “Hooray! Welcome to life!” 

Because as they say, “Life begins at 40!”

I’ve heard that so many times throughout the years, and I guess I believed it. Or at least, I wanted to. I always pictured turning 40 as this powerful moment. That it would feel like a celebration. A reward. A chapter where things fall into place. At this age, we’re told we should feel wiser, more confident, more grounded. We should know who we are, own our space in the world, or embracing aging gracefully, society tells us that 40 is the time to thrive. That’s the expectation.

The Reality That Hit Me Instead

But, it’s all just that. A saying. Something to look forward to in your early years. For others, their life begins at 40. My husband’s? It ended at 40. 

So, can you imagine what I felt a year, a month, a day, before I turned 40? I wasn’t excited as others do.

I was scared. 

What if…

I joined my husband up in there? What will happen to our child?

What if something happened and I was left to be cared for? 

I was scared. 

It felt like I was walking toward a cliff, not a celebration. While other people were planning parties and talking about travel or personal goal before turning 40, I was just trying to hold it together. My mind spiraled constantly—What if I don’t make it through the year? Well, good for me, I will be with the Lord. But, what will happen to our son? He’s only in second grade. The idea of him growing up without either of us was unbearable.

I wasn’t thinking about bucket lists or new beginnings. I was just scared.

Grieving While Mothering

Grieving as a mother is… complicated. You don’t have the space to fall apart the way you sometimes want to. Your heart is broken, but your child still needs you to function. To be steady. To get up and keep the house running.

I didn’t tell many people how I was feeling. Smiled when I needed to. Showed up for work, made dinner, do house chores, be a mother. But I was carrying this weight around with me—like every day.

Some days, I’d cry on my pillow after school drop-off. Just five minutes of letting the tears come before pulling myself back together for the rest of the day. Other times, I’d cry silently while folding our clothes drowning in questions about the loss, or lie awake at night just staring at the ceiling, wondering how I was going to do this alone.

Faith in the Middle of the Fear

The morning I turned 40, I wasn’t excited. My chest felt heavy, like I was bracing for something. Anything. I needed peace…

That’s when a few verses came to mind. Not in a dramatic way, but just gently, like God was reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” – Matthew 6:34
“For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” – Jeremiah 29:11

https://biblehub.com/niv/

Reading those, I didn’t feel instantly better. It didn’t erase the pain. But it calmed me. It reminded me that even in my worst moments, God sees me. That I’m not carrying this life alone. He sees my son. And He hasn’t forgotten about either of us.

And more than anything, they reassured me: my son is not alone. Not now. Not ever.

The Surprise

And so, my day went. Without expecting anything. Just another day.

But my family has others plans, without me knowing of course. As always. I’ve been asking them not to celebrate, cook, or prepare anything. I just want to be alone. But, they love surprises. So yeah, before evening came. Someone knocked, and shouted, “Shopee delivery!”

And as I opened the door, there they all are. Holding trays and trays of food, cake, and a bunch of flowers with folded money!!! My parents, siblings-niece and nephew, cousins, aunts and uncles, too.

Here I am, dealing with my own emotions, drowning in my anxieties, but God has others plans. And, I am grateful and surprisingly happy, too!

A Different Kind of 40

So, no… it didn’t come with a bang. Turning 40 after loss didn’t feel like a celebration. It felt like fear, grief, and faith—until I found a quiet kind of hope again. The anxiety at becoming 40? It went away. Not away away. The fear is still there, but my faith in God’s promises is bigger. What came instead was a quiet moment of grace. A deep breath. A small flicker of calm in the middle of the mess.

I got a new understanding of what it means to keep going even when it hurts. I realized that sometimes starting over doesn’t feel like a new chapter—it feels like surviving one page at a time.

And maybe that’s a kind of beginning, too.

Maybe not all beginnings are loud and exciting. Maybe some are soft and slow and painful—but still sacred.

If you’re approaching 40 and it doesn’t look like what the world promised, I just want you to know you’re not the only one. There’s no rulebook for how this age is supposed to feel. If you’re grieving, or scared, or just trying to hold on… please hear this: you’re not failing. You’re just human.

Some of us are celebrating. And some of us are simply doing our best to get through the day—and both are valid.

I’m still here. My son is still smiling. And God still has a plan—even if I don’t see all of it yet.

That, for now, is enough. Not polished, not perfect, but still moving forward.