To the Parent Carrying a Grief you Never Talk About

I know you love your child more than life itself. And I know that love is the very reason this grief feels so confusing, because how can you grieve something when the person you love is right here in your arms?

But you’re not grieving them. You’re grieving the version of parenthood you thought you were promised. The effortless playdates, the milestones that were meant to come and go without fear, the birthday parties, the sleep filled nights,
the simple comfort of knowing you could keep them safe.

You’re grieving a version of yourself, the parent you imagined you’d be, the parent who didn’t have to fight, who wasn’t exhausted, who wasn’t learning a brand-new language of behaviours, meltdowns, appointments, acronyms, and endless systems. The parent who didn’t live life permanently on high-alert.

You’re grieving the dreams you had for your family. The ones no one asks about anymore. The ones people assume you simply “got over.” But you didn’t. You just loved your child so much you learned to make space for both love and loss at the same time.

And if no one has ever told you this: Your grief is real, your grief is allowed, and your grief does not mean you love your child any less.

You are allowed to feel sad for what you thought life would look like, you are allowed to feel angry, or tired, or jealous of parents who get to live without fear, you are allowed to break, even on the days you appear strong.

One day, you’ll look at your child and realise your life didn’t fall apart, it’s just changed shape, and inside that new shape is a kind of love that most people will never get to understand.

With love,
Someone who understands 💛