On Tenderly Holding (Not Erasing) Perinatal Grief

No matter what we eventually reclaim, we are allowed to grieve the loss of our envisioned postpartum or motherhood story.

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A few weeks ago I caught up with an old friend who I hadn’t spoken with since shortly after Juniper’s birth. We talked about our lives and our children and everything that’s happened over the past six years. I loved our conversation, but I kept replaying one well-meaning comment, wishing I’d responded differently in the moment.

“It’s so cool, everything you’ve done in the world of birth injuries… I bet now you’re really thankful for your birth injury. Because none of this would have happened without it.” (“This” being developing a childbirth injury specialty and seeing patients referred for therapy… the research studies and manuscripts… the educational webinars for providers… the Instagram account…)

I appreciated her kind words, felt humbled by and indeed grateful for the ways things have extended far beyond my own experience. And even as a little spark ignited in my chest, I replied — “Thank you so much, I’m so glad to be able to help others feel a little less alone and broken than I did.”

My response was honest, but not complete. And although social norms called for the kind of pat “thank you!” that I gave her, I wished I would have added something like —

“I’ve actually thought about that a lot. I do feel grateful that I’ve been able to use this experience in a way that feels so meaningful… seeing this extend beyond myself has felt powerfully redemptive. I’m grateful for the support I’ve received and proud of how I’ve worked to reclaim a kind of life I thought was forever gone. But I’m actually not thankful that it happened. Even still. If I could go back and undo it, I think I still would. And I think that’s as ok as coming into a place in which I’m grateful it happened.”

Of course, I can’t predict what my life would look like right now had I gotten to skip the “catastrophic birth injury” chapter of my life story. (Maybe I would have been mauled by a grizzly bear in one of those epic backcountry camp sites I’d envisioned hiking my daughter into… if that’s the alternative, I choose the birth injury chapter. ;) And if we’re really getting into it, I absolutely wouldn’t have our delightful, irreplaceable Ansel… because that particular egg and sperm would never had met, his conception delayed over a year beyond my initial “ideal spacing” by my physical recovery challenges.)

But the point here is… redemption and meaning-making don’t erase the loss, even if they coexist with the loss. It’s ok to heal AND STILL never be thankful for the thing we had to heal from.

I’ve seen other versions of this show up both on social media and in my professional work — where the existence of evidence-based treatment resources is discussed in a way that essentially dismisses the pre-treatment impact of the trauma, loss, injury, or mental health condition.