The Unexpected Grief of Motherhood
Motherhood is full of little losses no one warns you about. Some are immediate and expected, while others creep in slowly, catching you off guard.
I never expected grief to be such a familiar feeling throughout motherhood. And maybe it’s because my journey has been anything but typical. There’s grief for me even in that statement—the immense loss of innocence, of not knowing the challenges of motherhood.
And let me pause to say when I say grief, it’s not just the grief of loss in the traditional sense, though that’s part of my story, too. Yes, my journey to motherhood has *actual grief* of losing my third trimester, having an extended NICU stay, and the tragedy of multiple pregnancy losses. But there’s more to grief in motherhood than these moments. It’s also the grief of the expectations I had envisioned for my entire life: the idealized timeline, the story of who I thought I’d be as a mother, and the simple joys I thought would come without hardship.
You grieve the person you were before kids…
The freedom to define yourself outside of caregiving, the quiet moments that used to be yours. I remember those first days after bringing my baby home. There were no long showers, no time to sip coffee in silence, no feeling of being fully rested. No time for me. I’d always imagined reveling in the newborn stage—instead, I felt disoriented, raw, and uncertain.
And it doesn’t end at the baby stage.
You grieve the stages they leave behind.
The tiny newborn snuggles that once felt endless are suddenly gone, replaced by the wiggles of a curious toddler. The hardest part is the fact that we can’t go back to those moments… they really are once in a lifetime, but we are often too busy or tired to fully appreciate them. So, at the same time, there’s immense gratitude for the hugs that now come with “I love you,” the milestones that make you beam with pride, and the independence they’re discovering every day.
You grieve the simplicity of life before kids.
Yet their presence brings unparalleled meaning and purpose to each day. I can’t imagine my day-to-day life without my son. The moments I am with him are the ones that fill me up the most…at the same time, I miss the spontaneity of going to a yoga class on a whim. Motherhood often feels like a contradiction—missing what once was while finding fulfillment in what is. There are days when I long for the time when my schedule was my own, but then I catch my child’s laughter or feel their hand reaching for mine, and I’m reminded of why I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
And then there’s the grief for yourself.
The version of you that no longer exists. Before becoming a mom, I had an identity that felt whole and like myself. Afterward, it felt like I was piecing together fragments of someone new who, in my story, has gone through so much pain and trauma and still wants to show up as my best self for my son. But how can I be the same person when I’ve lived so many lives since he was born?
That’s when I pause and realize that while the lives I’ve lived since he was born have brought me the most brutal pains, it’s also brought me a more profound sense of gratitude. With every loss, there’s an abundance of small joys that carry you forward. Gratitude for the belly laughs that brighten the most challenging days, the tiny hands that instinctively reach for yours, and the love that stretches you in ways you never imagined possible. Gratitude for the strength you find within yourself—a strength born from those very losses, from the moments you thought you couldn’t keep going but did anyway.
Grief and gratitude somehow coexist, shaping you into the mom you’re becoming. It’s messy. It’s emotional. And yes, it’s beautiful. Grief doesn’t define your story; it is an integral part. Each loss, each shift in expectation, brings with it the opportunity to grow into a version of yourself you didn’t know was possible. And it can be a little scary to leave that part of you behind and embrace this new you, but it’s also part of your story now and part of your journey into the mom you are.
So, if you’re a mom who feels this duality—this messy combination of sorrow and joy—know you’re not alone. The losses you feel are real and deserve space in your story. But so does the gratitude, the love, and the hope that carry you through. Together, they create motherhood's intricate, imperfect, and beautiful mosaic.
