Trigger warning: child loss, pregnancy loss
Regardless of whether we have children or not, I believe the world is filled with more mothers than we often recognize. I see the essence of motherhood in the gentle lunch lady at my high school, the little girl who adores her baby dolls, and a college student soothing a newborn in a nursery.
I recognize the spirit of a mother in the young woman anxiously squinting at a pregnancy test, hoping for a second line. And for those women who desperately wish to carry a healthy pregnancy to term but feel like they’ve failed time and again, the light of motherhood shines through even in their darkest moments.
I’ve always felt a deep maternal yearning, and thankfully, I’ve been blessed to become a mother in the traditional sense. However, my journey has been fraught with heartache. Death and I are not strangers; I’ve faced the agony of a miscarriage and endured the heartbreak of losing my four-month-old daughter. I know the heavy burden they create.
After losing my daughter, it felt as though the world around me was moving forward, with families growing and joy abounding, while I was engulfed in profound sorrow. My grief intensified as I tried to muster a smile for the latest pregnancy announcement from friends. I was happy for them, yet my heart ached. I felt the weight of resentment and irrational fury, emotions that were hard to swallow but impossible to ignore.
A mother is defined not just by the children she holds but by her deep desires and the love she nurtures in her heart. Mothers are all around us, whether or not the world acknowledges them. Some embrace their children fully, others yearn for more, and some long for just one. This yearning creates a profound emptiness, an unwelcome ache that feels intrusive.
The nurseries we envision—whether already decorated or merely dreamt of—are not meant to remain silent. This longing is painful, transforming the love we wish to share into grief, which feels more manageable. It’s not pretty, and it doesn’t always allow for a simple “congratulations.” Instead, it can scream, “Why her and not me?” each month, accompanied by feelings of resentment towards those who seem to effortlessly receive the blessings we crave.
Please know that your feelings are valid and deserve to be acknowledged. When faced with unfulfilled dreams of family, there are no “at leasts.” There is only waiting, despair, and loneliness. I want to validate your struggle—your pain is real. Pain is pain, and it knows no hierarchy. Acknowledge your losses, even if others downplay them. It’s okay to feel furious and to opt out of celebrations like baby showers and gender reveals. Those who truly care will understand, while those who don’t may never have appreciated you as you deserve.
I won’t sugarcoat your suffering with clichés; we both know they don’t help anyone. Right now, it’s perfectly okay to grieve. However, I urge you to remember that while your grief is a valid place to visit, it shouldn’t become your permanent home. Even if your struggles are invisible to the world, I see you.
For more insight into infertility and pregnancy loss, you can explore excellent resources like WomensHealth.gov. And if you’re interested in home insemination solutions, our other blog post on intracervical insemination provides valuable information. Additionally, check out Cryobaby’s home insemination kits as a trusted authority on the topic.
In summary, navigating the emotional landscape of seeing others’ pregnancy announcements can be incredibly difficult, especially for those dealing with loss or infertility. Your feelings are legitimate, and it’s important to allow yourself to grieve while also seeking paths towards healing and hope.