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It Wasn’t What I Expected: Grieving the Birth You Didn’t Have

  • Writer: Karen Law
    Karen Law
  • 8 hours ago
  • 3 min read

You imagined something different. Maybe you thought you'd feel strong, connected, or calm. Maybe you hoped for a particular moment: a first cuddle, a birth without intervention, a partner by your side.


And when it didn’t happen that way, something in you changed.


Whether your birth was traumatic, unexpectedly medicalised, or simply not what you’d hoped for, the grief can be quiet and heavy. It may not be visible to others. But it’s real.


This kind of grief isn’t about wishing your baby wasn’t here. It’s about mourning what you needed and didn’t get.


Grief in the Shadows

A woman gently holds a baby in a dimly lit room, conveying a thoughtful mood. Soft light highlights her hair and the baby's head.

Grieving the birth you didn’t have is often hidden. Others might say,


"But your baby’s fine. That’s all that matters,"

or,

"At least nothing went seriously wrong."


But your body still remembers what it hoped for. Your nervous system still holds the shock, the adrenaline, or the pain of things moving too fast or spiralling out of control. And your heart still longs for what might have been: a calm birth, a moment of pride, a feeling of choice or agency.


It’s not just about what happened, or the eventual birth mode. It’s about how supported you felt by your healthcare providers, your partner, and those around you. It’s about whether you were part of the decision-making process. It’s about whether you still felt safe as plans changed or alternatives were suggested.


This grief doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It means you’re human.


Signs You Might Be Grieving the Birth You Didn’t Have


Even if you wouldn’t describe your birth as traumatic, you might notice:

  • Feeling numb or detached when you think about the birth

  • A deep sadness or heaviness you can’t quite explain

  • Difficulty hearing other people’s birth stories, especially if they sound positive or empowering

  • Guilt about "not doing it right" or not feeling how you expected to feel

  • Feeling let down by your body, care team, or yourself

  • Anxiety about future births

  • A sense of disappointment that lingers, even when others think you should be “over it”


Naming the Loss is Part of the Healing


Person writing in a notebook on a beige couch. They're wearing a gray shirt and jeans. An orange patterned pillow is visible.

Acknowledging that something painful happened, that something important was missing, is often the first step toward healing. You might not be able to rewrite the birth, but you can honour your experience. You can let go of shame. You can give yourself the compassion you needed at the time.


In my work, I hold space for people to explore this kind of grief without judgement or pressure. Whether your story is full of obvious trauma or quiet heartbreak, you are allowed to feel what you feel.


You are allowed to grieve a birth that was hard, even if others think it "could have been worse."


You Don’t Have to Carry This Alone


You might be wondering, What now? Healing starts when you’re met with safety, presence, and permission to feel.


I offer gentle, trauma-informed support to help you:

  • Honour your story, even if no one else understands it

  • Set down the guilt, the shame, or the self-blame

  • Reconnect with your body, your intuition, and your sense of safety

  • Feel more grounded, calm, and whole. One breath at a time


I work in a way that’s flexible, compassionate, and tailored to you. There are no waiting lists, no pressure to retell everything, and no expectation to heal on anyone else’s schedule but your own.


You don’t have to explain everything. You don’t have to relive it. You just have to arrive, as you are.


Final Thoughts


You don’t have to pretend it was OK. You don’t have to push your feelings down to be a good parent. You can grieve, and you can heal.


If you’re holding pain from a birth that didn’t go the way you hoped, I see you. And I’d be honoured to walk with you as you make peace with what happened, and find your way back to yourself.



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