The Grief Cycle of Pregnancy

I didn't know that honoring grief was a part of being pregnant

There were dreams about this before there was a positive test.

In one, he was pregnant, and he was busy explaining to everyone that even though his body wasn’t made for a baby, he would be able to give birth through his anus. Everyone found him incredulous, but he knew that he had a miracle.

In another, I was in labor, drenched in sweat and bright lights, surrounded by clinical staff in white coats and blue scrubs. An obstetrician determined that I wasn’t dilating fast enough and ushered me to an emergency cesarian. I was too tired to fight. But I knew that the baby would be born with just a bit more patience. Sometime later, laying flat on a surgical table, a baby was raised above a curtain that obscured the view of my lower body. They were placed on my chest. I sobbed in shame. My cries got louder. I woke up in tears, my partner turning over to hug me.

These tears continued through the first few weeks of pregnancy. My partner’s dream, initially a source of an inside joke between us, was now a source of resentment from me. “It’s not fair that you don’t have to put your career on hold for this child,” my breath was bitter with jealous, a corner of my pillow soaked in tears.

I cried almost everyday. Sometimes out of sheer hormonal fluctuations (like when he suggested to have rice instead of noodles for dinner because it’s less processed - I wanted noodles and I lost it), sometimes out of anger and blame. Crashing into the couch out of exhaustion everyday, I was mad at my body for no longer being compatible with my ambition. I believed that being a parent would flatten me to a singular existence of living for another life - that my life as I know it would end at the same time this child was born. Yet, even with so much resistance, somewhere deep in my body knew that this child was supposed to be born, that this child and I are here to do important work together. But for a short while, I thought, let me just indulge in this tantrum.

I realized that the different complaints I had about being pregnant had a shared root of resisting grief. In a world where a new life is unanimously celebrated, my grief felt dirty and shameful. I felt pressured to put up a smile every time someone congratulated me about the news. I was looking for stories of other reluctant pregnant people who looked like me, but it was hard to find. Most pregnant content featured a yt woman in a renovated home decorating her nursery in shades of beige and stocking their postpartum cart with nipple balm and Honest diapers. There was also an abundance of polarizing and fear-based videos with titles like "55 ways your child can suffocate in sleep” and “Why delayed cord clamping is dangerous or lifesaving”. Yet, knowing that my new roommate shared the same feelings with me, I thought my disgruntlement was rude and unfair to the new life growing in my belly. Once again, the only way out of this misery is likely through. I had to acknowledge the death I was experiencing in order to welcome this new life.

My cat was eager to test out the baby gear

So I sat down with my journal, and started writing an obituary. One that mourned my broken dreams and lost aspiration. One that confessed my original vision for my future which did not include raising a child. One that described short term plans that would be cancelled because of the timing of postpartum. One that held onto a certain comfort in the body and now experiencing a complete organ relocation. I wrote pages after pages of lament. Read it out loud. Cried for a while. Took a nap. I went to bed trusting the tears would declutter some emotional space, and patiently waited for a new vision to emerge.

After this, I was empty of hopes and dreams for a week or two. I felt like a vessel, a baby, ready for a newfound hopefulness for my life as a parent. I thought I was done feeling sad. And then another wave hit. This time, it was about my identity as a gender nonconforming person. I will tell you more about it in another post.

What do you think of parenthood? Are you a parent? Do you plan to be one? Please tell me 🫃🏻